Our senses and our memories are inexorably linked. Yesterday, while sitting with a neighbor, we watched the sun set over tall trees at the edge of a lake. That moment when the sun almost disappears is magical. The shadow seems to be racing toward you as you’re treated to a brief psychedelic light show before light fades away. My mind quickly took me back to growing up in Colorado Springs, Colorado. My mother and I would frequently watch the sun set behind Pikes Peak. This was always a special time for me.
My wife and I recently had dinner at a wonderful restaurant in the small town of Tarboro, NC. As they brought it out, we were assailed with a sensory smorgasbord. The aroma, the presentation and finally the taste, were all excellent. We were both transported back 20 years to a wonderful shared meal at Ernie’s in San Francisco. Wonderful meals and experiences separated by time, but linked by our senses.
Perhaps my favorite is sound. I can hear an old song and remember back to when and where I first heard it. The radio was on in the office today, and Otis Redding’s great song, “Sittin’ On The Dock of the Bay” began playing. I had to stop work for a moment, because my mind wasn’t on the job. It was back in time to 1967; spring break in Destin, Florida. Those memories were worth a short pause.
When my daughter was small, we created a game between us based on sound. Cuddling up together in the hammock outside, we would play our game, "I hear". The rules were pretty simple. You had to close your eyes and report what you heard. Each sound had to be different - duplication was not allowed. There was always I hear a bird, I hear an airplane, I hear a car, I hear you breathing and on and on. The one sound that I always saved for my daughter was the sound of the hammock swinging. Our hammock was hung between two large pine trees, supported by galvanized link chain. Those of you who have ever been on an old porch swing know the sound I'm talking about. I let my daughter claim this sound because of the way she described it, "I hear the hammock singing!". You lose in translation to try and write sounds, but it was something like, ennnnnnnh, enh, ennnnnnnh, enh, ennnnnnnh, enh.
My daughter was seven years old when I divorced her mother, so I missed out on many, many sounds as she grew up. Consequently, I also missed out on large parts of her life. I was still around for a lot of the highlight sounds, graduations, birthday parties, and other special events. I certainly remember one particularly memorable church service in Pine Mountain, GA. I remember the music that announced the bride. I remember the sound of my daughter saying, "I do".
I recently was driving down the interstate listening to classical music. They were playing Tchaikovsky's beautiful piece out of the Nutcracker Suite, the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. This transported me back in time about 20 years. I can place myself into the local Auditorium, watching my daughter, my own dancing Diva, at her dance recital. She was so excited, dressed up in her tutu and tights, hair coifed, made up dimples visible on her cheeks. While the other little girls were dancing to the Sugar Plum Fairy, my daughter, Rachael was dancing to the Tone Deaf Pear; out of step, out of rhythm, enthusiastically doing her own thing. I have to smile, because she really hasn’t changed too much.
A few years ago, my daughter called and asked if I could help her out for a few days. Her husband had to be out of town and Rachael wanted to know if I could help with her brand new baby, my granddaughter, Lael. It doesn't take much of an excuse to get me around any of my grandbabies. Lael is an old Hebrew name that means Child of God. Little Lael is all of that. When I got there, Rachael was explaining that we were going to have to bundle up the baby to drive to a neighboring town where Rachael had a doctor's appointment. As she further explained, since she didn't have anyone to watch Lael, we would all have to go. I was silent for a moment and finally said, "Duh - I think that Lael and I will make it just fine. You go to your appointment. Here is twenty dollars. I think it would be nice for you to relax somewhere and have a nice lunch. We will be fine!”
After recounting the list of things I should do in her absence, Rachael pointed out that if Lael got fussy or fidgety, all I had to do was put her in her wind up swing. Apparently, this was guaranteed to put her at ease and most likely to sleep.
Well, Lael did get fussy. Changing diapers was needed, but she needed more. I wound up the swing, put Lael in the little bed, gave the swing a gentle push and away it went. There was a gentle and rhythmic back and forth motion. There also was a little noise. With eyes closed, I heard the noise; ennnnnnnh, enh, ennnnnnnh, enh, ennnnnnnh, enh. I hear the hammock singing!
In an open letter right now to Rachael, I apologize for the too frequent absence of a sound from me. A simple sound generated from saying three short words, "I Love You".
