Memories

I'm getting up there in years and I am beginning to wonder when I will become "old".  At 65? I sailed past that and reject that as out of hand.  I really don't think "old" has much to do with "age". As old as you feel? Then I am anywhere in a 40 year range depending on the day.

I think you might cross the threshold into old age when you start spending more time remembering the past than dreaming of the future - and when your dreaming is on behalf of someone you cherish who is younger. Memories become precious.

Memories. A smell or a scent can often bring back a vivid memory. [nerd-alert] "This is thought to be because brain's olfactory bulbs occupy a small area is of amygdala, the same place emotions and memories are processed. All other senses first travel to a brain region called the thalamus, which acts like a switchboard, relaying information about the things we see, hear or feel to the rest of the brain. Scents bypass the thalamus and reach the amygdala and the hippocampus in a "synapse or two." [/nerd-alert]  

So it's not surprising that aroma of baked bread triggers memories of Grandma's kitchen or Old Spice your first boyfriend.  

In the midst of this stay-at-home time I started a "cleaning out".  It didn't last long. I almost immediately discovered a cache of old photos, and that derailed me.  I love old photos, especially those of people I know or knew or those who lived before me and impacted my life. They tell a story. They inspire memories, sorrows, joys, regrets.

Sadness and regret.  This is my mother and her grandson. It's a beautiful fall day. The smell of burning leaves is in air. The Gophers vs. Iowa is on the transistor radio. Grandma is joyous in the company of her grandson, convincing him she could not complete this job without his help.  She once told me, " David. You don't deserve such good kids."  That sentence sticks with me and stirs an uncomfortable multitude of memories. She absolutely adored her grandchildren. Then she died. The kids were 5 and 3. Life can be so unfair.






Anxiety.  A young man is about to go to war. His final home leave before departing for the Pacific. He is anxious but he knows he must remain upbeat and cheerful so as not to cause his family undo stress. But they worry. His beloved uncle shares a story. Christmas is especially difficult. The future is uncertain.
 









Pride and worry. Your kids/grandkids. You love them dearly and worry for their futures.  But you are there while letting go, trusting that they will continue to be the people they have shown themselves to be.

Simpler times. Kids with numerous siblings and a boatload of cousins. The joy of play the joy of work. Opportunities to explore hay lofts, a creek offering countless hours of fun.  Caring for farm animals and learning about life.  The joy of being useful - carrying milk buckets, picking eggs, lifting hay bales, driving well before reaching the age of licensing. And oblivious to danger - moving parts, silos, horses & bulls, running water.





Exuberance. Not living up to expectations - in a good way. The spontaneous joy of making a snow angel or riding a snowmobile at age 85.   Be yourself. Everyone else is taken.











Family. Sadly these gatherings are often at funerals or an occasionally wedding. It's quite amazing how different we are - but they are always there for you. 










Responsibility. When you are a child of a greatest generation parent, you feel a responsibility to live up to their high ideals and sense of duty.  In the end, it is how you lived your life.















Copyright © 2020 Dave Hoplin