MEMORIES ©
By David Dillon (2009)
One day I was driving along Laneda Avenue in Manzanita when I suddenly became aware of memories swirling up and around me.
Passing this or that building or lot, I recalled things that used to be here, friends who used to work there, and places that used to be vacant. Some of these changes were big and others small -- events or people, tragedies or triumphs.
Coast Cabins was a house. I watched it being burned down. The Hoffman Center Annex was a crowded gift store. Diane Gibson’s new building was Ted Erickson’s old office.
The Syzygy building was another house – maybe two. Salt and Paper used to be a Chinese restaurant. Before that it was an English teahouse. Before that a pizza parlor – the first place I ate dinner in this town.
I comforted Marion Rivers after she fell off the curb in front of the post office. Bobbie Herder cut my hair for many years, across the street where Moxie now stands.
Next to the Deli, there’s a vacant lot. There was a restaurant and bar there. Over the years, it had several different names and reputations.
On and on and on.
I used to laugh when my father said of some place, “I remember when there was nothing there.” I do that now. I also say, “I remember when there WAS something there.” But I digress.
It’s an extraordinary feeling being caught in a swirl of memories. It’s like driving down a street covered with Autumn’s fallen leaves. They rise up and follow you for a while – then drop back down to await another’s passage.
Memories can balance our lives. They describe who we are and from whence we came.
Author Thomas Fleming spoke of memory in his novel Time and Tide. “Perhaps the best thing about memory was its independence of time,” he wrote. “The days were there, in sunshine and starlight, a shrine to visit whenever the spirit faltered.”
Memories can occasionally be illusionary. I used to have a brother-in-law who had flashbacks to Vietnam. But he was never in Vietnam. Again, I digress.
My suggestion is to take a little quiet time now and then to search out some memories. Pull one out of your personal ether. Let it swirl around in your head for a while. Put it away and grab another one. Come back to them a later day.
Those memories will always be there -- until you are not. When we go, so do all our memories. So savor them -- especially the good and sweet ones.
Don’t let your spirit falter. Visit your internal shrines often. They are who you are.
