Woman
I worked with bought her grandmother’s house a few years ago.
One
day, during a casual lunch conversation as the weather was improving,
the discussion shifted to home gardens. One of her remarks was
that she had been using the same greenhouse for her garden plants
that her grandmother used. In fact…
She
talked about working in that garden with her grandmother as far
back as she could recall. Every season, they drove about two miles
from the house to a roadside, family-owned nursery to select plants.
Her grandmother knew the owners. They actually lived two roads
from her house.
Over
the years, she had been introduced to the owners, the owners’
children and then the owners’ grandchildren. It was the grandchildren
that now ran the business.
As
far as she knew, the only plants and seeds used in that garden,
going back more than fifty years at that point, came from a single
store.
I
was thinking about that as Terry and I debated whether or not
to start a garden this year. We are actually leaning toward not
having one, but there are some ideas about perhaps having a couple
of things out there and just not our usual full assortment. As
we kicked everything around, I began to think about all of the
gardens we’ve had since we’ve been together, and the many places
we’ve bought items for them.
One
house. One garden location. One source of plants. Five decades.
One
couple. Several houses in multiple states. Countless purchases
from multiple sources.
Memories
are in some ways a combination of opportunity, necessity and action.
Are
you a fan of the Marvel movies? More than twenty films make up
the first three phases of Marvel’s connected universe. There are
people that have seen all of the movies released to date in the
same theater. While we’ve seen them, I don’t recall where Terry
and I went to see them. In fact, because of travel possibilities,
there’s a chance we’ve seen them in at least five different states.
Why
do we do what we do? …go where we go? …remember what we remember?
Terry
and I have some hosta plants in our yard. We brought them from
our last house. Over the years, all four of our dogs can be connected
to those plants. For instance, Lady and Travis used to lie on
them in the summer, so we split the first plants up and moved
some into different areas around the house. When we moved, several
were transplanted with us to our current house, where they were
planted, grown, divided, replanted and expanded. In the years
since, we’ve brought some of the plants to both of the boys’ houses.
Want
nostalgia and connections? There you go.
You
often hear the idea that there’s a link between the personal importance
of something and the capturing of information. I don’t have a
doubt that’s true. (As so wonderfully offered as an example of
several things, if you want to measure a dog’s intelligence, show
the dog you have two biscuits in your hand and then only give
the dog one.)
But
I do wonder about moments where two people have vastly differing
accounts of the same event. When brought up in the right situation,
it’s like witnessing a weird game of telephone at the very moment
where the signals got crossed and the division began.
Terry
has been with me on every trip I’ve made to Disney World since
1997. Every so often we’ll have discussions… Ellen went on that
trip with us… Richard went to that event, but not to the park
the next day… we took a picture of that attraction being built
during this trip, but it opened after that and we didn’t ride
it until… and you get the idea. I may remember this handful of
details, and she’ll recall another batch.
There
used to be an ice cream stand in Warwick, Rhode Island. It was
called Jenny’s. Don’t look for it. The landmark was part of the
community for more than five decades, but it closed just about
twenty years ago.
Jenny’s
was located along a fairly main road for Warwick communities.
A quick turn off the usual route, and it happened to be right
there along one way to my grandmother’s. It was down the street
from where we played baseball. It was a frequent stop of my youth,
and I can still recall testing different toppings out each summer
season on a soft serve cone.
The
places and events are tucked away in corners of my mind. But a
name… a date… a conversation… and suddenly they come flooding
back.
We’re
hoping to make our way back home in a few weeks. Discussions about
restaurants to order from, people to wave at, and places to drive
by have already begun. Some destinations are motivated by cravings.
Others inspired by memories.
There
are times when I wonder if, ten or more years from now, tomorrow’s
visit will be as memorable as one from thirty years ago. (I suppose
that depends on whether or not they have chocolate sprinkles.)