It's almost inconceivable that my right arm was ever good for anything. For a long time it has been dangling at my side with little purpose. 

But I have pictures, and if I really try I can remember long-tossing with Perch at Smalley Park, (that's throwing a baseball for those unfamiliar; playing catch from as far as you can), or muscling a 3-iron within inches of a hole-in-one on #10 at BCC (that's 230 from the black), or spending all morning on the slicer doing everything from tomatoes and mozzarella, to ham and pastrami. I remember squatting down to pick up a tray of iced-tea highballs complete with lemon wedges and full to the brim. 

I'm really not sure that I can remember. I know that I did all of those things, but I can't imagine what it felt like. 

It wasn't me doing those things. I'm only watching someone else's memories.