Beem Weeks's Blog - Posts Tagged "remembering"
Things That Trigger Memories
There are a million of them, those smells, tastes, sounds, or songs that have a way of transporting us back to a time long ago. The smell of fresh-cut grass leads me back to the early 1970s, to a time when I'd watch my dad mow the lawn and dream of a time when I'd be trusted enough to do the chore myself. Of course when that time came, I no longer had that desire to do such a job on a weekly basis. But that smell still takes me back.
Tasting fresh strawberries drops me into summertime 1983 and 1984. Dad's third wife made a mean strawberry shortcake.
During my nightly workouts with my weight-set I play CDs (Yup! I'm still kicking it old-school). Music has that amazing quality of time and era built right in. A song can come on the radio and take us straight back to the first time we heard it, the summer or winter it was released, or stir up memories of that special someone we once were convinced was the ONE.
We lived on Pine Street until I turned three years old, moved out during spring of 1970. And still I have a headful of memories from that house. Many of those reminiscences are tied to songs. Particular songs. Johnny and June Carter-Cash songs, to be specific. My dad loved that outlaw country sound--Cash, Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson.
Bob Seger was perhaps his favorite, though. Old Time Rock and Roll. To this day, Seger music has a way of pulling me into summers of the 1970s, when Live Bullet first came out, and Dad played the heck out of it all the time.
My dad passed away just last May. I miss him so much. But in that music I find him again, remembering moments I believed would last forever.
I lost my little brother two years ago. Today he became a grandfather and he's not here to meet his grandson. But there are songs he and I used to jam out to. Any Led Zeppelin album brings my brother back to me. Queensryche, Pink Floyd, Metallica; it all has meaning and memory attachment.
The other day I bought a few new CDs. Eighties metal. Cinderella--the hair band, not the fairy tale--is the one that inspired me to write this particular blog entry. Their first album came out in 1986. That is still my favorite year in my life. Freshly graduated from high school, money in my pocket, girlfriend by my side; it couldn't get any better. Carefree and young, we spent our free time at the local heavy metal club (The Silver Dollar Saloon) or seeing the biggest bands of the era in concert. Concerts were social events nobody wanted to miss out on. I went to dozens of shows, still have all but one of those ticket stubs to prove it.
So anyway, Cinderella. They were the big deal for that summer of 86. I delivered pizzas while playing the heck out of that first Cinderella album.
But somewhere over the years I lost that original cassette tape. Probably hadn't heard it in well over twenty years--until I found a copy on CD the other day. I popped it in the player and immediately my mind drew up recollections of friends I hadn't thought about in quite some time.
Some of those friends are no longer among the living.
We all got married, started having children, and began living our lives in different worlds. We lost touch somewhere along the way. And just how does that sort of thing happen? Usually with a "I'll talk to you later" or "Give me a call Friday" and that call is never made. A week turns into a month, a month becomes a year. We're too busy being married, being parents, living this new adult life where concerts and clubs no longer factor in. We forget the past and focus on the here and now--until a long lost CD is rediscovered.
Often, when I talk with my sister or older brother, the phrase "Hey, remember that time..." enters the conversation. My sister is good for "I forgot all about that." It's never really forgotten, though. It's still there inside the mind, just waiting for that someone, that something, that certain smell, or a special song to pull it into the forefront of the mind. Then it's fondly remembered, examined, and talked about, before being filed away again for another few years.
Thank God for memories.
Tasting fresh strawberries drops me into summertime 1983 and 1984. Dad's third wife made a mean strawberry shortcake.
During my nightly workouts with my weight-set I play CDs (Yup! I'm still kicking it old-school). Music has that amazing quality of time and era built right in. A song can come on the radio and take us straight back to the first time we heard it, the summer or winter it was released, or stir up memories of that special someone we once were convinced was the ONE.
We lived on Pine Street until I turned three years old, moved out during spring of 1970. And still I have a headful of memories from that house. Many of those reminiscences are tied to songs. Particular songs. Johnny and June Carter-Cash songs, to be specific. My dad loved that outlaw country sound--Cash, Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson.
Bob Seger was perhaps his favorite, though. Old Time Rock and Roll. To this day, Seger music has a way of pulling me into summers of the 1970s, when Live Bullet first came out, and Dad played the heck out of it all the time.
My dad passed away just last May. I miss him so much. But in that music I find him again, remembering moments I believed would last forever.
I lost my little brother two years ago. Today he became a grandfather and he's not here to meet his grandson. But there are songs he and I used to jam out to. Any Led Zeppelin album brings my brother back to me. Queensryche, Pink Floyd, Metallica; it all has meaning and memory attachment.
The other day I bought a few new CDs. Eighties metal. Cinderella--the hair band, not the fairy tale--is the one that inspired me to write this particular blog entry. Their first album came out in 1986. That is still my favorite year in my life. Freshly graduated from high school, money in my pocket, girlfriend by my side; it couldn't get any better. Carefree and young, we spent our free time at the local heavy metal club (The Silver Dollar Saloon) or seeing the biggest bands of the era in concert. Concerts were social events nobody wanted to miss out on. I went to dozens of shows, still have all but one of those ticket stubs to prove it.
So anyway, Cinderella. They were the big deal for that summer of 86. I delivered pizzas while playing the heck out of that first Cinderella album.
But somewhere over the years I lost that original cassette tape. Probably hadn't heard it in well over twenty years--until I found a copy on CD the other day. I popped it in the player and immediately my mind drew up recollections of friends I hadn't thought about in quite some time.
Some of those friends are no longer among the living.
We all got married, started having children, and began living our lives in different worlds. We lost touch somewhere along the way. And just how does that sort of thing happen? Usually with a "I'll talk to you later" or "Give me a call Friday" and that call is never made. A week turns into a month, a month becomes a year. We're too busy being married, being parents, living this new adult life where concerts and clubs no longer factor in. We forget the past and focus on the here and now--until a long lost CD is rediscovered.
Often, when I talk with my sister or older brother, the phrase "Hey, remember that time..." enters the conversation. My sister is good for "I forgot all about that." It's never really forgotten, though. It's still there inside the mind, just waiting for that someone, that something, that certain smell, or a special song to pull it into the forefront of the mind. Then it's fondly remembered, examined, and talked about, before being filed away again for another few years.
Thank God for memories.
