Time after Time

One of the advantages of getting older is all the memories that flood your mind.  Well, my mind anyway.  I know on this blog of mine it is often nostalgia that is the subject.  And, well, true to form I think this is going there as well.

I just returned from California visiting my brother and sister-in-law. I booked those flights last fall and after that I bought shoes for the trip (which didn’t make the cut in the end) I got a new suitcase, I looked forward to that week off for months, I packed and repacked (and still did not take the right things) and then just like that, it’s over.  It’s over!! Like how? What happened?  All that planning and packing and here I am, back on my chair in Pittsburgh, wondering if I will ever catch up on my sleep and when I’m going to put in my 2-week notice.  Okay that last thing is just preparation for that eventual event.  No date on that yet. So anyway, I just was thinking of time and how we have memories that are so intangible and are only these thoughts in our heads, and with family the memories go back to the beginning of our life on earth.  Literally. And then my brother pulled out a box that he has from our grandparents’ house and there are MORE gone memories of people/ancestors we never knew, long gone before we came into existence.  But they lived, whole, very long lives.  My great grandfather was born in 1825.  Now how many people can say that?  He’s only one great.  Not like great-great-great.  Know what I mean?  I mean only one great.  That’s crazy.  Of course, I didn’t know him, but he was my granddad’s father and I did know my grandad. All of these lives have been lived. And although I’m still living (last I checked) I mean so much has gone before.  And now it’s just gone.

There is a Stephen King movie called the Langoliers.  I’m not normally a Stephen King fan but this one I got hooked on back in 1995.  I used to tease my Zachary (who was then about 8 years old) and tell him if he misbehaved the Langoliers would get him.  LOL. Poor kid. Well anyway, the Langoliers eat time. They eat the past. At least that’s my memory of the movie plot.  But really there is nothing to eat. That past is just an idea of something.  It’s gone.  It’s just gone.

I know this is a deep subject.  But as I was returning home, from this trip that I was so looking forward to and then the realization that it’s over I was like, what is up with this? I think, maybe, it was more pronounced this time, this vacation being over, because I don’t get out there to see my brother very often.  The last time was about 3 years ago and then before that probably more like 10 years.  Going to Florida on weekends is a repeat occurrence so even though leaving the sun to come back to the cold is not my favorite, I know that I will soon be back there so I don’t really need to hang onto the memories.  I just need to hang onto that tan!

I also went to my brother’s and sister in laws (Scott and Janis) gigs and I have always kidded him (but not really kidding) to play the song Shoes, Pants and Roses which is the song that his high school band, The Arizona Pearlies, played in high school.  Like in 1974.  For some reason that song has always stayed with me.  And by him playing it I am transported way back.  He started playing it at the one gig and I jumped up and screamed like the teenager I was in my mind and danced while everyone stared at me, because no one else knew what the song was or if I was having a seizure.  Later I thought about that moment of abandon and laughed to myself, grateful that no one knows me out there so didn’t really care about embarrassing myself.  I also tried to remember (that memory thing) where I might have been when I heard them play that song in the 70’s.  I remember a barn but that’s it.  I don’t even remember where they played.  But I remember that one song and I was transported.  That’s what memories do.  And songs in particular.  They transport you to a different time.  Most of the songs they played at their gigs were 70’s songs.  At least the songs that transported me.  Steely Dan, Crosby Stills, Nash and Young.  Lots of Steven Stills.  Lots of Miami memories there too.  But those days are gone.  The only thing left are the songs.

So that was my airplane ride. Deep in introspection, primarily because my connection was through Las Vegas and I lost $10 in under 1 second and didn’t want that $10 loss to turn into a $100 loss, and since I finished my book while at Scott’s I had nothing left other than my thoughts.  And that’s where I went.

Time.

My featured image, with this blog, is of my Great Aunt Roberta.  I knew her.  She lived long enough to crochet a blanket for my newborn baby Zachary in 1982.  She had the most beautiful face.  As I age and see all the Botox (especially in California), I think I would much rather have my Aunt Roberta’s face.  It’s beautiful.  And below is a photo of my great grandfather.  I did not know him since he was born in 1825 (can’t remember his death date).  But, there’s just something about his being just “one” great that makes me feel closer to him.

This man was my Aunt Roberta’s father (as well as my Granddad’s father).

These are photos I found in the box while visiting my brother. The box that was also a time machine transporting me back. There are lots of ways to be transported.

That is all.  My time is up for today.😊

xoxox