Tag Archives: memories

hostage.

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ted’s

where i spent many hours of my childhood

famous to many as a woodward drive-in restaurant and hot rod cruising spot back in the day

famous to me as the scene of many family dinners and celebration spot

and that one suumer day

when my older sisters and i walked up to ted’s

all on our own

the hostess seated us in a booth

feeling very grown up

 pooling all of our change

looking at the menus

ordering 2 plates of french fries and lots of ketchup to share

when we finished, so proud of ourselves

the waitress dropped off our bill

my older sisters knew math

 realizing that we didn’t have enough money to pay the bill

my sisters somehow negotiated with the waitress

 to leave me in the booth while they ran home to get more money

 i sat in the booth quietly waiting for their return

feeling what it meant to be a hostage

without ever having heard the word in my young life

i’d still like to know

how they got the waitress to agree to this

how they talked my mom into letting us go up there alone in the first place

perhaps we snuck up there

and what they told my mom when they returned home without me to get more money?

i’ll ask my sister the next time we meet.

not at ted’s.

“every happiness is a hostage to fortune.”

-arthur helps

do you remember?

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who remembers this?

sitting backwards

making faces

rolling around on turns

cigarette smoke-filled air

fighting over who could sit there

the door that swung open

back window down

best seat ever.

 

“like all great travelers, i have seen more than i remember, and remember more than i have seen.”

-benjamin disraeli

 

 

 

 

 

image credit: doyouremember.com

flivver.

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 the pinto wagon

pea-soupy green

wood-ish sides

bare bones edition

shared with sibs

junk food

single shoes

lost school papers

hand crank windows

no air

sometimes heat

as many friends as we could jam in

 rockin’ our fm-converter

 a drag-racing ticket 

but it had wheels 

took us places

 this was our flivver.

had a number of flivvers

over the years

but none 

carried the memories

like this one. 

do you remember your flivver?

FLIVVER:

Part of Speech- Noun

Origin – Unknown, early 20th century

Definition – A cheap car or aircraft, especially one in bad condition.

 

“a car for every purse and purpose.”

-alfred p. sloan

 

 

credits: google image, wordgenius.com

scents and sensibility.

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The New York Times recently published an article in which they discuss the power of scents to transport us. “Scents and memory are inextricably tied together – the smell of a grandmother’s house, a childhood pet, or a particular brew of morning tea.” NYT restaurant critic, Tejal Rao, has even has created a “Smell Museum” of her life in LA, cataloging the aromas she encountered in her home and office. The paper asked readers to send them their scent memories. This got me thinking about my own scent memories:

 Freshly cut grass – brings me back to my childhood Saturday mornings, waking up to my dad mowing the lawn, windows open, curtains blowing

Jergen’s Lotion (Original Scent) – Almond and Cherry – the lotion my mother bought and we all used

Coffee brewing – When I was pregnant with my first daughter, I was drawn to this amazing aroma and I never have stopped loving it

Baby’s Heads – Always takes me instantly back to when my babies were little

Herbal Essense Shampoo – (Original Scent )- My teen years, and trying to figure out life, I felt beautiful when using this shampoo on my hair

 

What are some of your scent memories? Good or bad –

“nothing revives the past so completely as a smell that was once associated with it.”

  • -vladimir nabokov

 

 

credits: NYT – Jaspal Rivait, Melissa Kirch, Tejal Rao

left.

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 old and rusted

i wonder about the day

when the child

left the bike here one last time

never to enter that tiny house again. .

“what do we leave behind when cross each frontier?

each moment seems split in two:

melancholy for what was left behind

and the excitement of entering a new land.”

-che guevara

where hobbies, hijinks, and capers go bad = my childhood #7

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my middle sister and i hatched a plan to get on the radio

when we heard about a fund raising radio-thon.

 anyone who called in with a year-long pledge

would hear their names on the radio as a thank you.

as soon as our mom went upstairs

we dialed up the station on our kitchen phone

 excitedly pledging to send 2 dollars a month for a whole year.

within the hour, we heard our names announced

we were so proud and cheering for ourselves

until all the noise caused our mom to come downstairs

asking what we were celebrating

as she quickly reminded us once again

that we were young kids with no income

(other than what we made from our other schemes)

and there was no way we could actually pay them a cent.

 how quickly our fame turned to shame

 how fearful we were

thinking the radio station

would send someone right over to our door to collect.

though they might not have found us

as we were soon busy doing hard time in our room.

‘fame is a fickle food upon a shifting plate.’

-emily dickinson

 

 

 

 

image credit: eBay

stories are the rivers.

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my daughter was given a small box

filled with items

from her great grandfather/great grandmother

on her father’s side.

it contained such an interesting mix

with no one to explain

the meaning

the importance

the story

of the items inside.

some of them were:

a pocket knife,

a key to a city in louisiana,

one heart-shaped earring,

and a piece of paper with

‘hamlet, act 1, scene 3’

handwritten on it.

i wish we knew the story of

why each was significant in their lives.

why was each item worth saving in a special box?

‘we all belong to an ancient identity.

stories are the rivers that take us there.’

-frank delaney

who he was.

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i remember my dad standing right here 

when i was 2 years old

 we lived in chicago

 he was so young

just starting out in his career

i remember the bar in our basement 

climbing up into the stools

the candle wrapped in netting

the straw hats on the wall

and i remember 

he loved to be the life of the party. 

“it doesn’t matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was.”

-anne sexton

happy father’s day to all