Wednesday, June 15, 2016

Memories Begetting Memories

I have owned this bookmark for ~60 years, and I remember when and where I got it. In the interval between then and now, it keeps disappearing and reappearing, but somehow it has remained with me for 60 years in all of my moves: Toronto, London, Sarnia, and now Ottawa (ie Carleton Place).

The most recent disappearance occurred about 6 years ago. Oddly, it has just been recently that I have wondered where the heck it had got to this time.

Setting up the new computer last week had me rummaging hither, thither and yon for this that and the other thing such as old installation CDs. That searching caused me to see the need for cleaning up the closet just a little bit. In said cleanup, I came across two old laptops, including a relic from 2001.

However, in the carrying case for the newer relic from 2005, I found a book; when I removed said book from the case, behold! out fell the bookmark.

Although the book cover looks familiar, I can't say that I truly remember the book. But from the date of the accompanying magazine stored alongside the book, I have to say that the whole caboodle has been hibernating since 2010. That jives with my memory of purchasing the next-to-most-recent-nearly-and-dearly-departed computer, which arrived in the latter part of 2010.

I bought it, the bookmark, about 60 years ago at a Sportsman Show in Montreal. Mabel, my best friend's mother took me, Nelson, Doris (his sister) and Myra (Doris's friend) out for the day. We went by bus and luxuriated home in a taxi, and I kept worrying about what the outing was costing the lady.

I don't recall much else about the day, except that in addition to buying this piece, I also purchased a Chicago Blackhawk crest. I was a Montreal fan, and not a Chicago fan, but I liked the crest, and the Blackhawks still have a great uniform, even if it is no longer politically correct.

The crest has long since disappeared, but memory tells me that both items cost 50¢, which was a fair whack of dough for me in those days. My allowance was 10 or 15¢ per week, but I assume that I was given some extra spending money for the day.

I also remember Nelson purchasing a cowboy hat for $2 and talking about it on the way home in the taxi. He said something to the effect that he had thought I was nuts for my purchases, and then didn't he go and spend two bucks on a hat (which I don't recall him ever wearing again).

Memory is a strange thing. It is said that you only remember something if it has an emotional impact on you. So, the event must have meant something to me. When I last rediscovered the bookmark those six years ago I asked Doris if she remembered the day, but she was totally blank, so it had no emotional impact on her. I must ask Nelson this time (although I may have done it before and can't remember), but I expect that it will be blank for him too.

Oh, by the way, and before I go, I want to note a connected memory. At the very top, you see the name, Caughnawaga. Actually, you can't see the whole name anymore, but that's what it said. Then, you see an Indian head, for Caughnawaga was an Indian reserve near Montreal.

I remember driving to the reserve for an evening church meeting. It was a little house meeting, and my dad had been asked to give the sermon. Another man, Danny Pazutto (sp?) brought his accordion, and he also drove us there and back in the vehicle that he also used as a taxi.

Since I am recording memories, I may as well go full out and say that my Dad's sermon never finished properly. A lady in the small congregation had an epileptic seizure, or so I presume it being that, and the service ended prematurely.

One more connected memory: back at our own church, we had the quaint custom of doing a [Jericho] march-around offering every Sunday morning. On more than one occasion, Danny, who sat closer to the front and by the aisle, would surreptitiously slip me a candy as I paraded by after tossing my nickle into the basket. Maybe we had made a connection, or maybe he simply thought that I was a bit deprived as my parents weren't exactly rolling in the dough. There's no one around to ask any more.

It happens every now and then that I wish I could ask about this or that, but no one remains. So, one piece of advice is for younger folk to ask of older folk about anything that they might possibly want to know. While there is still time.


Marie Smith said...

It is great you are recording what you remember now. It looks like you are beginning to explore your father's life as a minister with these memories. That information would be important to your grandchildren in the future.

Great post!

Jenn Jilks said...

I so agree! With both mom and dad gone, and my relatives not speaking to me after the funeral (long story!), no one knows the ends to certain tales.
Ah well.
I love your post!

Mage said...

A magic entry.

Shammickite said...

Yes, definitely ask the oldies about the past before they are gone. I'm trying to tell my children as much as i can, but I don't know if they are really interested.

Mara said...

Isn't it strange how you remember something and the people who were there as well, have no recollection at all? I once asked my brother about a memory I had and he just looked at me and had no clue what I was talking about. And we were both there!

Vicki Lane said...

Memories are so magical and sometimes so elusive. My husband and I share memories going back as far as seventh grade -- but we don't always remember the same things.

Jim said...

I have been spending a lot of time with my older and only brother lately. We have been going over old memories, so of which I don't recall and some he doesn't. But I have tried to pass my memories on to my children. He has not. His son always asks about when we were kids when we are together. I often wonder why my brother doesn't share these times with his kids. Ours was a very pleasant childhood with both Mom and Dad being there.
My children love to hear the stories. Probably they have heard them more than once, but they laugh and go along with dear ol' Dad anyway!
Keep sharing with your kids and grands. They will appreciate it later more than now.
I still, after her being gone 24 years, want to ask Mom something, and there's no one from that generation left to ask. That's sad!