Memory is a child walking along a seashore. You never can tell what small pebble it will pick up and store away among its treasured things. ~Pierce Harris, Atlanta JournalIt's funny what you remember.
Important dates.
Phone numbers.
Childhood best friends...and worst bullies.
4th birthday Kermit the Frog party hats.
Favorite toys you wish you hadn't sold at that garage sale for 50¢.
First grounding (for calling the pay-per-call Monster Squad movie's hot line multiple times and not asking for parental permission).
First glances.
First crushes.
First kisses.
What's even more interesting is how we remember these things.
Memory's not a simple recall of facts and details. When we recall that favorite toy, we also remember how it felt or smelled, and how it made us feel...or smell.
The memory of a first kiss doesn't only hold the date and party involved, but also the sensation of lip-lock and nervous butterflies, the smell of his/her cologne/perfume, and the background noises of the theater/front porch/Barry White CD.
When Mini-Me was just a few months old and we started reading him Pat the Bunny, I was awash in memories, especially when I turned the page and caught the faint, unmistakeable scent of those flowers. That smell is distinctly tied to that book for me. As is the sensation of scratching daddy's whiskers, and lifting the flap of cloth to play peek-a-boo. I hadn't seen a copy of the book in at least a score (I've always wanted to use that term) and, yet, I felt like we'd never been separated.
Similarly, on one of our many snow days over the last month I was setting up to record some shows for Mini-Me on The Hub (an awesome new family-friendly channel that runs classic cartoons and TV shows) and I saw they were running episodes of the 80s era G.I. Joe cartoons with which I grew. I set up to record a couple of episodes in order to see if they held up over time or were totally cheesy as I've found many of the cartoons I loved have become...and then I quickly forgot about it.
When I saw the recordings a few snow days later during one of those brief moments when all the kids were (pretending to be) napping, I was first struck by how different the opening sequence was; how much slower and less exciting it seemed compared to what I remembered. When the episode itself began, though, I immediately tumbled into a flurry of memories that dropped me next to my nine-year-old self on our couch at my childhood home in Garland, Texas, on Thursday, December 12, 1985 (the first episode's original air date).
The episodes I recorded, a two-parter called "There's No Place Like Springfield," happened to be two of my favorites (although I didn't realize that when I set up to record). In them, Shipwreck and Lady J rescue a scientist from Cobra, but Shipwreck ends up trapped when their plane is shot down before reaching the Joes' aircraft carrier. He wakes up in the hospital 'years later' after having 'fallen off a ladder.' His 'wife and daughter' are by his side and he's totally confused, because he he can't remember his wedding day, being honored as a hero for defeating Cobra with the information they obtained from the scientist, Lady J's death, or anything else from the past decade. He also can't figure out why he keeps passing out, why he keeps being taken to a car wash (seriously), why people start melting, etc. It turns out Cobra captured him and was attempting to mess with his mind in order to retrieve the secret information the scientist placed in his subconscious regarding a top-secret project.
It was a great episode arc in 1985 and, surprisingly, I enjoyed it just as much now. That's mainly because watching it also brought back memories of the excitement I felt when a new episode was coming on, the nervous feeling I got in the pit of my stomach each morning as I nervously glanced from TV to clock anticipating the walk to school and day of learning that loomed ahead, the smell, taste, and texture of my standard peanut butter-banana,-honey-Eggo Waffle breakfast, and even the fear I felt for Shipwreck as his 'friends' melted around him.
The other source of my fascination with memories, lately, is Legos.
I went to my parents house recently in order to shuttle my dad to the airport and, while there, picked up the vat of Legos my parents kept from when my sister and I were kids. Mini-Me's taken a keen interest in Lego videogames, but also in building vehicles, especially Bat-vehicles, out of the few Legos we have around the house. I figured we might as well access this treasure trove of goodies to feed his imagination. At some point in the storage of these blocks, though, it seems someone spilled a New Coke (or was it Crystal Pepsi?) in the bin, because there's brown, sticky goo on many of the pieces. My job, lately, has been to bathe the Legos, which is not turning out to be a fun task.
However, it has allotted me plenty of time to revel in memories of playing Legos as a kid. Memories of the taste of the blocks as I used my teeth to pull them apart when fingernails wouldn't do the trick, memories of being yelled at to not use my teeth to pull apart the blocks when fingernails wouldn't do the trick, memories of cars and buildings I haven't seen in years, now partially dismantled, but still recognizable, memories of the horrible science fair project on cell phone towers that was more report than experiment (but what do you expect when you wait until the last minute), memories of entire cities slid carefully under my bed to await another day of adventures.
As I wash the Legos or watch G.I. Joe, I think about the memories that my kids are forming. I think about the warm memories of childhood they'll have when they think back on their GeoTrax train set, and their Rescue Hero and Justice League toys, and on being yelled at to not use their teeth to pull apart the Legos when fingernails just won't do it; on watching Mickey's Clubhouse, or Chugginton, or Little Einsteins, or Batman (Holy 60s era, Batman!); on reading Bear Snores On, and Bedtime Cat, and Mars Needs Moms, and the DC Universe Superhero Pop-Up Book.
I think about it and I'm excited for them, because one day, they'll have the wonderful feeling that comes from a warm memory unexpectedly resurfacing...and it sure is a beautiful feeling to have.
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