" So it's the laughter we will remember, whenever we remember, the way we were..." Barbara Streisand got it right. Fortunately I do tend to remember the good times.
I live in the past, going as far as keeping my High School yearbook by my side at the computer. College is what I remember mostly, surprisingly enough considering I drank my way through much of it. I've been fortunate to reconnect with several people from childhood, HS, college and my law enforcement years. My absolute favorite thing is talking about the "stories" from the past. The problem is, of course, that at our age, we don't really remember much, and the few stories that we DO remember, we ALL remember. We also forget that we told and re-told these same stories to one another with each discussion. It truly IS an vicious cycle. Songs bring back certain times and certain people; Phil Collins "In The Air Tonight"- the first CD I ever owned, and the first song I ever heard on a CD player; "Those Were The Days" (ironically titled, considering this discussion) by Mary Hopkins was played over and over again by my friend's mother as we sat in her living room playing; "This Magic Moment" by Jay Black I recorded on my red Take and Tape cassette recorder. It was memorable because I dropped my trumpet mouthpiece on a glass desktop at a perfect break in the song. I've decided that life's memories are a lot like the way they describe police work- "Ninety-nine percent boredom, and one percent sheer terror". I remember some very good things, fun things, funny instances, and deep discussions. I also remember the really bad events- we all do. What I don't remember are the in-between times; we just don't have enough brain cells to remember every instant of our past. I don't remember a single conversation of any significant length with my father. He was a great Dad, but he wasn't "that" Dad. I don't remember much with my mother, until she was dying. It seems the memories died with her, as well. Don't get me wrong- I had an idyllic childhood. Just nothing stands out. My big concern now is trying to BE memorable and DO memorable things with my granddaughters, 4 and 2, and so far, I haven't been able to. I REALLY don't want to die without being remembered by someone. What's the point of living if we can't be remembered?
So well written and thoughtful. I don't have many good memories from my childhood but I do remember playing travel agency -"The white zone is for immediate loading and unloading only. NO PARKING!" And I also remember Gronks and cougars. Fun!
I love this post, all the different ways we can travel down memory lane!
I find myself dwelling there less and less as each year passes, working hard to stay firmly in the present with my eye on where the ball is going. However, there is just nothing like a gut-splitting, all out laugh fest recalling some of the debacles of my past.
I love the bark eating story and sampling the neighborhood. Pretty sure if you were in my hood you would've been right there with me testing out the 'lick the car bumper in the middle of winter' trick. I can tell you it didn't end as well as the bark eating situation!
Parts of Memory Lane in my ZIP code are littered with landmines. Those portions I avoid. But I envision myself like Dorothy Parker in her later years, at a bar, trading old Hollywood stories for cocktails. The NDAs should be worthless by then. xo
Now is as good a time as any to share why your Substack is so FUN! You cover so much and always get to the point. The punchlines and things to think about are always worth a revisit. Becoming the keeper of your husband's memories is HILARIOUS. Your reminder of what Classic Rock radio was like "all the hits" was great. Why do we remember the hotels/motels instead of the destination? Memory is not reliable but sometimes it is durable :) The Qs 1. YES 2. 1st Airplane trip 3. Hard to believe it was the same trip!
I think about the past constantly. One of my favorite memories is of playing Forest Ranger with my sister while on backpacking trips, talking to eachother through chunky little pieces of wood (our radios). Thanks for sharing your neighborhood sampling adventure - glad you had fun and didn't eat hemlock bark!
" So it's the laughter we will remember, whenever we remember, the way we were..." Barbara Streisand got it right. Fortunately I do tend to remember the good times.
I live in the past, going as far as keeping my High School yearbook by my side at the computer. College is what I remember mostly, surprisingly enough considering I drank my way through much of it. I've been fortunate to reconnect with several people from childhood, HS, college and my law enforcement years. My absolute favorite thing is talking about the "stories" from the past. The problem is, of course, that at our age, we don't really remember much, and the few stories that we DO remember, we ALL remember. We also forget that we told and re-told these same stories to one another with each discussion. It truly IS an vicious cycle. Songs bring back certain times and certain people; Phil Collins "In The Air Tonight"- the first CD I ever owned, and the first song I ever heard on a CD player; "Those Were The Days" (ironically titled, considering this discussion) by Mary Hopkins was played over and over again by my friend's mother as we sat in her living room playing; "This Magic Moment" by Jay Black I recorded on my red Take and Tape cassette recorder. It was memorable because I dropped my trumpet mouthpiece on a glass desktop at a perfect break in the song. I've decided that life's memories are a lot like the way they describe police work- "Ninety-nine percent boredom, and one percent sheer terror". I remember some very good things, fun things, funny instances, and deep discussions. I also remember the really bad events- we all do. What I don't remember are the in-between times; we just don't have enough brain cells to remember every instant of our past. I don't remember a single conversation of any significant length with my father. He was a great Dad, but he wasn't "that" Dad. I don't remember much with my mother, until she was dying. It seems the memories died with her, as well. Don't get me wrong- I had an idyllic childhood. Just nothing stands out. My big concern now is trying to BE memorable and DO memorable things with my granddaughters, 4 and 2, and so far, I haven't been able to. I REALLY don't want to die without being remembered by someone. What's the point of living if we can't be remembered?
So well written and thoughtful. I don't have many good memories from my childhood but I do remember playing travel agency -"The white zone is for immediate loading and unloading only. NO PARKING!" And I also remember Gronks and cougars. Fun!
Memory Lane is wonderful. Such a good time growing up in the mid 1900's.
We hope our memories will lay the groundwork for our grandson's own in this tough, unpredictable world. Laughter and love...
I love this post, all the different ways we can travel down memory lane!
I find myself dwelling there less and less as each year passes, working hard to stay firmly in the present with my eye on where the ball is going. However, there is just nothing like a gut-splitting, all out laugh fest recalling some of the debacles of my past.
I love the bark eating story and sampling the neighborhood. Pretty sure if you were in my hood you would've been right there with me testing out the 'lick the car bumper in the middle of winter' trick. I can tell you it didn't end as well as the bark eating situation!
Beautifully written teas, that we all can relate to
I try to stay away from memories - basically. They are bitter and bittersweet.
Parts of Memory Lane in my ZIP code are littered with landmines. Those portions I avoid. But I envision myself like Dorothy Parker in her later years, at a bar, trading old Hollywood stories for cocktails. The NDAs should be worthless by then. xo
Now is as good a time as any to share why your Substack is so FUN! You cover so much and always get to the point. The punchlines and things to think about are always worth a revisit. Becoming the keeper of your husband's memories is HILARIOUS. Your reminder of what Classic Rock radio was like "all the hits" was great. Why do we remember the hotels/motels instead of the destination? Memory is not reliable but sometimes it is durable :) The Qs 1. YES 2. 1st Airplane trip 3. Hard to believe it was the same trip!
I think about the past constantly. One of my favorite memories is of playing Forest Ranger with my sister while on backpacking trips, talking to eachother through chunky little pieces of wood (our radios). Thanks for sharing your neighborhood sampling adventure - glad you had fun and didn't eat hemlock bark!