3 Steps Back

Yesterday, I traveled back through time to my childhood. Not exactly, but I did see, do and experience some things from my distant past.

1. The whole day was about the wedding. I traveled with my parents to Astoria to be at the wedding of a childhood friend whose parents are still close friends of my family. The parents recognized me, but all three of their kids (including the bride) had a blank "I wonder why that short middle aged woman is smiling at me" kind of greeting. Then the recognition... it's funny seeing people you haven't seen in over twenty years. We all change, you know. Lovely wedding, lovely bride, and lovely being introduced to the groom as "the other girl in the Little House on the Prairie outfit" in our childhood photos.

2. I started the day with doughnuts for breakfast. Yummy doughnuts. I haven't had doughnuts for breakfast since I used to go to the bakery in the Foodland parking lot. I also had the requisite nap in the backseat of the car on the way home. Probably because I had doughnuts for breakfast.

3. The worst blast from the past was last night. I got an earache. An all out screaming pain, can't relieve the pressure with drugs or hot water kind of earache. I knew it wouldn't kill me, but I kind of wished it would. Eardrops finally did the trick enough for me to get to sleep. Of all the nostalgic memories from my childhood, earaches are the ones I rather not revisit.

In Memory

I may have learned more from Angie Long than from almost anyone else, though I don't know if I ever had her as a teacher.

In a culture where all adults went by Mr. or Mrs., I can't remember ever calling Angie anything but Angie Long - first and last names together, always. She was the woman at church who was happy to let me sit by her.

4th row back on the gospel side, Angie Long always had gum in her purse, as well as a pencil stub and paper and a little metal number puzzle. A little girl's dream.

She'll probably be best remembered for her pies, especially her chocolate cream pie. And I'll always remember her for her hospitality. Whenever we went to dinner at her house (fried chicken, mashed potatoes and, of course, pie), she made us kids feel welcome. I remember playing with the legos in the basement, match-box cars, and a huge plastic coke bottle. Even if Mom and Dad talked forever, Angie Long had things for us to do. A game of aggravation could last the whole evening.

It's hard to imagine Juneau without Angie. She lit up those dark winters. Our love and prayers go out to her family, both physical and spiritual. She'll be dearly missed.

A Blast from the Past

Ever have those moments that remind you of way back when? Like when you hear a song you haven't heard in a while? Or smell hot tar that reminds you of summer walks with Grandpa?

I stepped into my childhood yesterday at the Bonanza Shooting Gallery. It was exactly like the gallery I used to love to shoot at down at the Olde Tyme Mall. Only both of us are about 30 years older. I've got to say, much as I hate to see myself age, at least I'm not musty, dusty, and threadbare like the skunk that kept spraying me every time one of the kids hit his target. In the scheme of things, I've fared better than the animatronic, state-of-the-art (in the 70's) shooting gallery.

The grand prize, then and now, was to hit the target on the player piano player and make him have to play.

I'm not sure the kids caught on to the wonder and charm of this blast from the past. The fun of it was not in the actual experience, but in the memories.

What a Funeral Should Be

Ira Pirtle died this week at the age of 93.

His funeral this morning was what a funeral should be. He lived a long, productive and happy life. His children and friends and grandchildren(and even his son-in-law) rose up to call him blessed.

People shared stories that made me laugh, that made me cry, that made me remember.

Ira was a joy to know, from his impish twinkling eyes, to his ready word of encouragement, to his insatiable appetite for pie. He lived a full life, loved well, and will be fondly remembered.

He lived his life so close to God that his departure from this life was no great struggle, rather an easy hop across the headwaters of the Jordan into the land of promise.

Well over 200 of us gathered to remember Ira and I know of many, many more who wish they could have been there.

Bon voyage, Ira. And thanks for all the ways you've laid foundations for those of us who come behind.

Memory Triggers

Memory is a funny thing. Little sights, sounds and smells trigger responses we think are long buried.

Driving north from my house, I pass under a line of flowering plum trees that make me think of Anne of Green Gables.

The smell of creosote and salt water takes me home faster than any other smell. The sound of home is the constant drumming of rain water falling off a roof onto a piece of plywood. (I'm sure Dad had a good reason for putting that plywood right outside my window. Rain is white noise to me now.)

The hot cross buns rising on my stove top tonight have triggered a string of memories about my best college buddy who insisted on making them every year in the old dorm oven. I wonder how she's doing. I bet she's making hot cross buns now, too.

Songs can be that way. Most of the music that takes me down memory lane are the songs we sang in church, songs that are such a part of me I'll be singing them when the rest of my brain has turned to mush. Songs that are so fixed in my heart that I'll never forget the words. Songs that will usher me out of this life. You have songs like that, too.

What triggers your dormant memories? What makes it all come flooding back?

Like Yesterday

I remember those painful good-byes, those "we're off to deep dark Africa and we don't know if we'll ever see you again" moments with our families.

14 years ago this month we pulled out of Vancouver with our little yellow Subaru loaded with boxes, our heads loaded with plans, and our hearts loaded with all the apprehension and excitement we could fathom.

Yesterday Andrew and Aimee Martin boarded a plane with the same hopes and fears and faith, off to change the lives of people on the other side of the continent I love so much.

There were so many things I wanted to say.

• It feels like forever, but it's not. You'll see your family again in the blink of an eye. There's nothing like a grand child to help get loved ones to visit.
• If things don't all work out according to plan, it's okay. There's no such thing as failure as long as you place yourself in God's will.
• Culture shock may be the worst thing you ever experience, but just remind yourself that craziness is the norm and you'll make it through.
• Jeff and Cheryl are going to be a blessing to you... and they'll be blessed by you.
• Learn the language. It will give you window into hearts.
• Take Anaiah out. She'll be an instant conversation starter.

Oh, and there's so much more. But part of the adventure is in the discovery. I love you and a huge part of me wishes I was on the plane with you right now.

summer smells

In the cartoon Rose is Rose, it doesn't take much to turn mother to child. A water sprinkler, a wad of cotton candy, a pretty flower all have the power to shrink her down to a time when life was new, fresh and exciting.

Nothing pulls me back in time like a smell from my past. Creosote and salt water, wood smoke, mossy banks holding in the moisture of life...

For some reason, my strongest smell associations remind me of my grandparents. The scent of fresh tomatoes and dirt and hot pavement conjures memories of Grandpa Hugh. Granny Ruth smelled like fabric and starch. Just to brush past a juniper shrub floods my mind with memories of Grandpa Wyatt. Grandma Alta smelled of fabric, salt water and green onions.

Then, of course, there was Old Spice and Soap on a Rope.

What smells conjure memories for you?