Did you know that music might enhance how we remember our travels? I read the suggestion to anchor our travels to specific songs after I slid down an internet rabbit hole about memory recall. It got me to thinking….
Any time I hear Three Dog Night’s Joy to the World, I’m whisked back onto a bus filled with other eighth graders visiting Washington, D.C. from Saginaw, Michigan. We’d ridden through the night, and we awakened to sunshine and cherry blossoms spilling off limbs in pink and white, their scent a subtle mix of almonds and lilacs. I think I remember the worn-out expressions the chaperones wore. (They had to have been exhausted, but did I really see that back then? Or am I empathizing right now?) During the trip, I’m guessing we crammed in tours all day long (none of which I remember). The same goes for roommates. I must have had one or two, but I don’t recall who they were.
What I do remember about that trip is anchored in the music—the singing on the bus. There was another song, equally rousing but bitter in a way I didn’t understand then as well as I do now. Performed by Country Joe McDonald and the Fish, it protested the disparate draft system of the Vietnam War, which still waged on. Whether you’ve heard the song before or not, it deserves a listen—and maybe a moment to ponder. I’ve included a link to the version without the famous Fish Cheer that often got things started. (But in case little ears are near, please note the F-bomb still pops up shortly before the two-minute mark):
Oh, the memories. I loved revisiting that trip in my mind, but I had to dig deep to remember. The music helped, maybe because linear thinking doesn’t come naturally to me, the way it does to Rice. He can recall the oddest, most miniscule details without much prompting at all.
“Remember our move from Michigan to Colorado?” I ask, looking back to see myself seated behind the wheel of our Citation, where our cat, Harry, is crouched in the back seat, ears erect. We’re following Rice and our dog, Sam, in the U-Haul rental. I’m jarred by the starkness of the landscape as we cross the Nebraska state line, where a sign taunts: Welcome to Colorful Colorado.
“What parts of the move do you mean?” Rice piggybacks. Then, without waiting for my response, his gaze drifts off as his memories kick in. “I remember having to pull off the highway in Gary, Indiana in search of another U-Haul rental place.”
“What??”
“You remember,” he prods. “About four hours into the drive, the truck’s alternator light popped on.”
“Oh.” I furrow my brow, then quickly correct my expression to try to cover my tracks. “Right.”
But I don’t remember. And suddenly I’m irritated, thinking back on the hundreds of times I’ve struggled to remember things the way normal people do. Then I’m haunted by more rabbit hole research finds, ones that point out the advantages of a good memory, like better test scores, higher self-confidence, reduced anxiety and frustration, improved sleep quality, improved social interaction…. Ugh.
I grit my teeth. “God’s playing a joke on me again,” I grouse. “Why else would I feel compelled to write a travelogue about our forty-plus years together when I can’t remember shit?”
“I can help you,” Rice says. “And don’t be so hard on yourself. You know that having a bad memory has its upsides.”
“Oh, really?” I try not to roll my eyes. “How is it good that I can forget I’ve seen a movie, start to watch it, and then remember halfway through that ‘Oh, yeah,’ I’ve seen this before?”
His lips twitch. “Do you remember how it ends?”
He’s got me there. Chances are, I don’t. And even if I watch it again all the way through, I still may not remember the ending. I’ll fall asleep or just plain forget. That’s how I roll.
Then again…I bet I’ll remember the hell out of its soundtrack.
A few Januarys ago, I began to choose one word to focus on during the year ahead. It was a way to get fired up for the coming year without setting myself up for failure with lofty goals and resolutions. Several friends and I now choose WOTYs annually, and I write our words on little canvases and share them. Some of my own previous selections include Focus, Cultivate, Hope, and Lucky.
This year I’ve chosen Yes! Here’s why:
For starters, Yes! I’m still writing. Sharing that brings on a feeling of pride and commitment but also a sense of vulnerability. When I say I’m still writing, I always steel myself for a comeback like, “So, I guess you’re not published yet?” Granted, most people are more thoughtful and supportive with their responses—or they kindly refrain from responding at all. Still, making a declaration that Yes! I’m still writing opens the flood gates for fair observations. Because Yes! it can often take a loooooooong time to make things happen in this crazy industry.
Still, I say Yes!, even when sometimes it’s hard to sit down and actually do the writing itself. Psychologically hard. Rejection is part of the industry. It’s just business, but it takes a toll—whether it comes from agents or editors or readers. To continue writing demands stamina and commitment. It takes a big fat Yes!
Yet writing and telling my circle of peeps about it is not quite enough anymore. There’s a tag-along to the craft these days called social media platforrm-building, with tools like Twitter and Instagram, FaceBook, TikTok, and more. I envy folks who enjoy these tools and can use them without major gaffs, like accidentally posting an on-line to-do list that includes a trip to the gynecologist. Ugh.
The fear is real, but so is the need to get social, like it or not. Even established writers aren’t immune to posting copious Insta pics and tweets. Not to mention, as social media continues to try people’s confidence, writers are encouraged to send out independent invitations to Join My Email List. On top of everything else.
Still…I say Yes!
To clarify, for me saying Yes! means mindfully choosing the things that are important—like writing, but also family and friends—and saying Yes! to the entire package they come with, not just the parts that are easy or fun. Yes! means putting myself out there to do the things I often put off because they make me uncomfortable…or I think I can do them tomorrow. Like reaching out to old friends. Attending an event. Or maybe just making a phone call I’ve been putting off.
Yes! – reminds me I’m not done yet. That goes for my writing, but also for spending more time with family and friends and learning new things. To stretching creative muscles…to seeing new places and experiencing more adventures.
So here’s a hell, Yes! to 2023. I invite you to join me in making it special and finding new ways to show the people we love how incredibly dear they are.
My best to you and yours for the upcoming year ~ J
Updated: Dec 21, 2022
November, we hardly knew you. And now December. Why must you be so hard?
Sure, as a kid, I found you easy. Gifts, Christmas pageants, and candy. Days off. Snow. Magic.
But then I became an adult, and wham! Suddenly, nothing was quite so stressful as trying to make Santa look good to my kiddos on Christmas. Unless it was pulling together the midday feast while respecting the extended family’s food preferences. You know, creating a gluten-free meal that’s low in salt and diabetic-friendly while still tasting good to those who love their sugar and starch.
These days, the year-end holidays are different. Rice and I rarely cook—hallelujah! In fact, we spent this past Thanksgiving at a local restaurant, enjoying a meal seated next to complete strangers. Correction: By the end of the meal, we were no longer strangers. We shared some laughs and light conversation with Rachel and her wife, Keira, as well as Keira’s mom and grandmother.
Now, maybe you’re thinking, where was our family? No worries. It’s all good.
Frankly, I think our kiddos, now all adults, are grateful I no longer try to turn our holidays into a Hallmark movie—starring me as the matriarch(!), the gracious hostess who opens her home effortlessly to extended family and friends. Because the thing is, that’s not me. Ever. Especially not during the holidays.
For me, it’s hard to stay calm in the midst of the cooking and chaos and kids, with everyone talking at once. Food gets burned—or remains woefully undercooked. Something breaks or someone gets hurt. A debate breaks out—over politics, game rules, or who-knows-what. When I’m a guest, those things roll off my back. When I’m the matriarch-hostess, I tend to own them.
Thanksgiving 2022 was close to perfect. The icing on the cake was spending time with family. But low-key style. Our son and his wife stayed at our house but ate at her parents’. Our younger daughter dined with her husband’s family but popped in and out with our grands throughout the weekend. We enjoyed Sunday brunch with our oldest, who worked Thanksgiving day.
But now comes December…. We’re easing our way in, some decorating here, a party or two there. We’ll likely spend Christmas Eve just us two—maybe with early evening church, followed by dinner at a local Thai place. Christmas morning will roll in slow and easy. With plenty of quiet time and hot coffee.
Come afternoon, the extended family will congregate—elsewhere!—invading our middle kiddo’s home. We’ll bring food and drink to share, gifts for her kids, hearts overflowing with blessings…and gratitude that the hardest part of the season has passed. And everyone will curse me when I say it’s time for the family photo. (I’m happy to play the matriarch card in this instance.)
Overall, the day should be fun and simple, especially since we no longer exchange gifts among the adults. No worries, though. One lucky soul will leave our gathering with a gift—the family’s “Flake of the Year” award. But only after nominations and debates and lots of belly laughs…because somehow we always manage to have an abundance of contenders each year.
How about you? Do you like to do your holidays BIG? Or do you prefer a quieter time? Either way, it’s the season for ALL the feels. Joy and dread, exhaustion and awe. Breaking old molds to make room for new traditions.
My point? I guess I’m coming to grips with how we all like to fa-la-la differently. Each of us is the star of our own holiday show—be it The Holiday, Elf, The Family Stone…or something entirely different. (Die Hard, anyone?)
Personally, I hope to make space this season for Jesus and Santa and dreidels,,,for family and candlelight…for community and peace. ‘Tis a difficult time for many. Including me. So I like to shine a light however I can.
For others? Of course. But also for myself.
Cheers ~ J
