Memories

It seems weird when the mind conjures up memories, snap shots of long ago when impressions were first shaping the body of interest in a young mind. Often these snap shots are flashes unrelated to one another. Here is a smattering of what I’m talking about.

·         A long winter’s weekend snowstorm in New England. I recall treacherous driving up hills and around curves. Snow was still frozen, not slushy. Packed to a muffled road sound, the car slipped and slid miles before arriving in the safety of our garage. The time was early in our days in Massachusetts. We arrived there in 1954 fresh from southern California. Snow was an oddity to we kids. Mom and dad were natives of Minnesota and Chicago, respectively, so they knew how to drive in the white stuff. They were well out of practice, however!

·         Those first winters in Massachusetts were long to us. The cold came in October, snow in November, snowstorms in December, January, February and March. April was the month of change with both snow and rain and a few days of hinted warmth. May was the first month of expectations. I recall my sister and I crying while washing dishes as we looked out the window at a raging snowstorm in early May one year. We couldn’t stand one more day of winter. So frustrating.

·         Walking from the school bus up the street to our house, it was September, and the weather was still warm in New England. The news buzz was all about the baseball World Series. The kids at school blabbered on and on about the World Series, and even sneaked in transistor radios in class to hear the latest games leading to the championships. Me? I was anxious to get home and see what the latest car models would look like for the new model year. Cars were my passion. The design, look and colors of the new models were simply the only thing I focused on. This was in the 1950’s.

·         As dreaded as snow was to us displaced Californians, the first snow of the season usually meant the end of the lawn mowing season. Best of all, it meant no more leaf raking! Once snow came, it lasted through spring. I do not remember bare winter lawns in either Massachusetts in the 50’s, or upstate New York in the 60’s. Snowpack. Forever. As far as the eye could see.

·         In the early months of New England life, I noticed an unfamiliar aroma. My parents didn’t know what I was jabbering about. But the neighbors next door said I was probably smelling wild thyme. That’s what it turned out to be. To this day, that is the smell I recall for Pittsfield, Massachusetts. My time with thyme.

Funny what memories appear and reappear. I wonder what sparks their recall.

October 20, 2022

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