The Redhead Riter - Witty, Intelligent & Addictive: memory

Showing posts with label memory. Show all posts

Creating Memories - A Memory To Last Forever

"Sweet is the memory of past labor."~ Greek Proverb

Monetary value is not the important factor when I receive a gift. Actually, the thing that makes a gift stand out with me is the sentimental value of the item. That means the gift either was personally selected for me with care or it was lovingly created with me in mind.

This decorated box is actually a jewelry box that is lined with velvet.

Not only is it sprayed with gold, but it is decorated with items such as buttons, acorns, ribbons, pearls, fabric bows and pasta.

Yes, I said pasta.

Pasta is the medium children often use when decorating things they create for their mother's for such occasions as Mother's Day or other holidays.

This homemade jewelry box is one of my most valuable possessions.

"God gave us memory so that
we might have roses in December."~ James Matthew Barrie (1860-1937)

Every time I see this little box, I think about the loving hands that took the time to create it for me. It brings to mind not just one memory, but many memories.

Why are memories important especially if they are little, non-consequential memories?

Being alone with our memories can inspire and comfort us. They can also bring happiness to others when we take the time to share them. The reason that I started blogging was to have a way to share my thoughts with my daughter, so that I could record our separate and joined memories.

With each year that passes, Alyssa is slowly becoming her own person which means that it won't be long before she is completely leading her own life. The memories that we have made together will mean even more to us when our lives are not as entwined.

That is why this jewelry box means so much to me. After the jewelry box had been completely finished and before it was given to me, Alyssa signed her name on the under side of the lid. However, Alyssa wasn't the only person that was involved in creating this gift for me many years ago.

My sweet niece, Brittany, also helped in the creative task.

Both of the girls were assisted by my mother in making this gift for me.

So I have a gift that was created just for me by three of the people I love the most in this world. I know that their loving hands fretted over the details of the gift and thought about me through the process.

They took the time to create a gift for me because they love me and that warms my heart day after day.

Memories should also be written down somewhere like a diary, journal or even a blog. That will ensure that the precious moment in time is remembered forever especially as the details in our minds begin to slip into fuzziness.

Take the time to make and record your memories. Some day, they may inspire and comfort the people who love you.

"The best memory is
not so firm as faded ink."~ Chinese Proverb

Rockin' Friends Spotlight of the Week

Now, the time we have all been anxiously awaiting...This is the weekly post where I spotlight my Rockin' Friends who are the Top Nine active participants and loyal followers in my community where you will find THE BEST people in the world! If you want to be mentioned here next week, then all it takes is to come in and start chatting with everyone in my community.

Top 9 Rockin' Friends

With a big, heartfelt thank you for their participation and friendship, here are the Rockin' Friends this week in order of most participation.

Paula at The Wandering Hearth

Katlupe at Homesteading On The Internet

Bev at eBlebco.com

Kristi at Child Sensitive Communication Grid

Shari at Faith Filled Food For Moms and Grandmothers

Amber at Amber May Be...

Meg at Mergie

Lisa at Its Own Sweet Will.neebeep.com

Robin at Soggy Bottoms Baby Duds

I'm so glad that I've been able to become friends with these wonderful people who are so active in my community. I encourage you to add their blogs to your blogroll, but also come over and chat with us in my community.

For everyone mentioned in the top nine this week, feel free to grab the Rockin' Friend badge below and thank you for your participation!!

Until next week...Kiss your family, hug your friends and don't forget to be the friend you would like to have around.

Woo Us To Your Blog

As always, attached is the weekly Linky to enter either the main URL to your site or add each post you publish throughout the week. You don't have to do anything special, just drop your link in and get a little extra exposure to your site.

The Tale Of A Plastic Curse

Mom says that I am very intelligent, but I lack common sense. I think there has to be some other explanation because if it is going to happen, it seems to happen to me.

As far back as I can remember, I stayed in the kitchen with the women in my family. I spent a lot of time watching many talented women bake, roast, can and cook, but my task was always to just eat the fruits of their labor.

Mom had to start working when I was ten years old. She was extremely organized and efficient and seemed to get everything done. One morning, Mom explained that the macaroni and cheese was ready to bake in the oven. She would call me in the late afternoon when she was leaving work and all I had to do was put the prepared dish in the oven to bake.

It sounded very easy and I didn't fret about it.

True to her word, the phone rang shortly after 5:00 p.m. and Mom said, "Go ahead and pop the macaroni and cheese in the oven. Be careful not to burn yourself."

What could possibly go wrong?

By the time Mom walked through the front door, the wonderful aroma of our dinner filled our apartment. She looked quite pleased that I had "cooked dinner" without any of my usual mishaps.

Since this was the first time I had ever cooked anything, I was really excited to see the final outcome.

Mom grabbed a couple towels, reached into the oven and pulled out the bubbling macaroni and cheese.

I stared at it in confusion.

"Mom, what happened to the plastic wrap that was on top of the macaroni and cheese?" I asked.

"What?" Mom asked. "Didn't you take it off before you put it in the oven?"

"No!" I said. "You didn't tell me to take off the plastic! You just said to put it in the oven."

"It is just common sense to take off the plastic before baking anything in a hot oven! You know that plastic melts!" she said as she moved the fork around looking for the plastic in the freshly cooked noodles.

"But you didn't tell me to take it off!" I exclaimed, extremely upset because I had apparently failed at my first cooking experience.

I have never lived down that experience, but that was a long time ago and I have become wiser. Right?

Fast forward thirty-eight years to this morning.

I iron my clothes every morning before I go to work. Well, my iron broke and I had to buy a new one on Saturday. I left it in the box. Then on Sunday, Alyssa and I went to the Apple Festival. We were gone all day long, so the iron remained in the box.

This morning, I pulled the iron out of the box, removed the Styrofoam on each end and took off the plastic bag that was wrapped all the way around the iron. I plugged in the iron and went into the kitchen to eat breakfast.

The iron got really hot in just a few minutes. I put my black pants on the ironing board, lined up the legs, added water to the iron so I would have lots of steam and put the iron on the leg of my pants.

But the iron didn't slide across the material, so I yanked it up hoping that my pants weren't burned. Upon closer inspection of my pants, I didn't see any burn marks. What was wrong?

I flipped the iron around so that I could look at the hot surface and that is when I saw it.

Plastic.

Melted plastic.

Not just a piece of plastic, but the entire surface of the iron was covered with melted plastic.

Apparently, the plastic is placed on the shiny plate on the iron to prevent it from being scratched during shipping. I had no idea that an iron was packed that way, so I didn't even bother to look closely at my new iron before it was plugged into the wall.

Oh my gosh! I bet I ruined my new iron!

So I decided to just let it cool a little while I dried my hair. After it had cooled, I started peeling the plastic off in little pieces. I was quite thrilled that the melted plastic was coming off!

I picked all the little pieces of melted plastic out of the steam holes. When all of it had been removed, I plugged in the iron and ironed a wet towel to get the remaining goo off.

It worked.

No more goo and no more plastic stuck on the bottom of the iron.

I have to either concede that Mom was right and I have no common sense or believe that plastic has been out to get me since I was ten years old. I think I'm going with the latter. For all we know, plastic is really an alien that likes to aggravate redheaded people.

It could be true.

Okay, plastic isn't really an alien, but you could try to just humor me a bit!

Brain And Heart Connection During The Storm

One beats while the other thinks. Two totally different functions, but surely there must be a connection between the brain and heart. Have you ever had your heart hurt so badly that you get a headache or your brain thinks so much that your heart starts to feel numb?

The Heart's Brain

In 1991, neurocardiologist, Dr. J. Andrew Armour's research showed that there is a sophisticated and functional nervous system that qualifies as a "little brain" within the heart. That means the heart can learn, remember, feel and sense, independent of the cranial brain.

Most of the time the communication between the heart and brain work great, but it is not always necessary for the two to share information. For instance, when someone receives a heart transplant, the nerve fibers running through the vagus nerve and spinal column do not reconnect for quite a while and sometimes, they never reconnect. However, since the heart has its own intrinsic nervous system, the heart transplant will still be successful. The brain and the heart can act independently, yet together. Obviously, the 40,000 neurons in the heart's nervous system are quite smart collectively.

The other night, I was sitting at the computer when I heard a HUGE sound of thunder and looked out the window just in time to see a big flash of lightning followed by more thunder. My first thought was to turn off the computer and television. I was in the middle of watching The Notebook and typing a blog post, so I did not really want to stop just for a storm. It was a short lived storm and was soon completely gone with no ill effects to the computer or television.

The storm passed.

My brain understood it.

My heart was happy since it was very involved in the love between the two characters in The Notebook.

The brain and heart were talking to each other without any problem.

The Brain and Heart Walk In The Storm

Sometimes the brain and heart share an experience that totally messes up their communication. I only saw my parents have one argument and that was shortly before they were divorced. I was only eight years old and totally oblivious to any problems between my parents. The three of us were standing in the kitchen one early evening and I suddenly realized that Dad was very angry. He reached for the dishwashing liquid and started squirting it all over Mom. She did not scream or try to reciprocate against him, but just stood there as he dumped the soap on her.

I freaked out.

Seriously, I totally freaked out.

I saw Dad doing something mean to Mom and since I did not understand what was happening, I was very frightened. I was so scared that I started screaming.

Uncontrollable screaming.

Screaming at the top of my lungs.

I could not stop.

My parents had stopped fighting because they realized that I was freaking out. I remember they were both speaking to me because their lips were moving, but I did not hear anything. All I knew was that this loud screaming noise was coming out of me and I had no control of my voice or my shaking body.

As I recall, Mom had to slap my face (not hard) to get my attention and snap me out of the screaming fit. After the screaming stopped, I collapsed in my mother's arms and sobbed. I had witnessed Dad's terrible storm of emotions. My young mind did not understand it and since I loved them both, my heart ached.

Shortly thereafter, Dad moved, the house was put up for sale, Mom went to work and I became a latchkey child. Each afternoon, after I got off the bus, I took the silver key that hung around my neck on a pink piece of yarn and babysat myself until Mom got home. Dad had taken most of the furniture, so the house felt very empty. As a matter of fact, the master bedroom was completely empty which really made the whole experience very sad.

During the time when my brain was trying to understand the whole concept of divorce, my heart was aching. No matter how many times my mother would say that everything was going to be alright, the message just did not seem to get to my heart. I missed Mom being home all day and I missed Dad coming home each evening. I longed for the life that "used to be" and was scared of the unknown future that loomed ahead.

It took years for me to understand my parents stormy divorce and even longer for my heart to heal from the pain and loss. The important thing to remember is that I did heal. The storm may have lasted for many years, but eventually the clouds broke and the sun shined brightly again.

No Brain or Heart Is Exempt

Everyone has experiences that are not very pleasant as well as those that are extremely joyful. No heart or brain is exempt from learning to cope with the hard times. Life is filled with opportunities for us to experience every sensation known to the human body. No two people have the same set of experiences nor do they react exactly the same as another human being. Each person that walks on this planet is completely unique and that makes our co-existence even more interesting.

Often, people do not have the capacity or desire to understand things that they have not personally experienced. I have found that people have several reactions to other people's trials and bad experiences. They either:

ignore it
make a joke out of it
act like it is not such a big deal
have compassion, but no understanding of the problem
totally comprehend the pain of the situation because they have lived through a similar circumstance

My storms have taught me that it is always best to be compassionate even if I have no understanding of another person's dilemma. It is the humane thing to do. It is the right thing to do. No heart or brain is exempt from the trials of life. Mom always said that everyone will eventually meet their Waterloo.

Mom was right.

After every storm the sun will smile;
for every problem there is a solution,
and the soul's indefeasible duty
is to be of good cheer.
~William R. Alger~

Kaleidoscope Life In Bits and Pieces

It is just a simple cardboard tube capped at the end with mirrors inside to reflect the broken bits illuminated by the outside light. When the viewer looks in the hole on one end, light at the other end helps to create colorful patterns reflected off the mirrors. Who would ever think that such a toy could keep children occupied for hours and years? I've had my share of kaleidoscopes ranging from the cheap to expensive, but all entertained me into a restful peace and color-filled experience.

The word "kaleidoscope" is derived from Ancient Greek words that mean "observer of beautiful forms." Sir David Brewster invented the kaleidoscope in 1817 and I do not think he could have chosen a better name for this wonderful invention.

Life is filled with fun times, opportunities, excitement, devastating experiences, happiness, spiritual moments, pain, joy and a million other bits and pieces. Taking all those moments and shuffling them together creates the bits and pieces of our life's kaleidoscope. It is colorful no matter how you look at it and no two moments are exactly the same nor are there any kaleidoscopes just alike.

Each kaleidoscope is unique and with each turn, the bits and pieces fall into a whole different pattern of colors of shapes.

You will become mesmerized, so have fun and move your cursor across the kaleidoscope site.

"I gathered the bits and pieces of my shattered heart and mind. They had been shifted and turned into a million shapes like a kaleidoscope in the hands of a small child. Silently I cradled the fragments safely against the warmth of my body. Huddling in the darkness and all alone, I will wait...and wait... for the healing powers of time to bring all the parts back together again."~The Redhead Riter~

Honeysuckles are beautiful flowers that grow on arching shrubs or twining vines that have vibrant green leaves. Hummingbirds, bees and people are attracted to these plants for the same reasons...intoxicating fragrance and sweet nectar.

I do not make a habit of eating things I find growing wild. Many times as a child my mother would encourage me to taste the honeysuckle, but it just was not my thing. Mom did, however, find willing participants in her plant sucking, namely her granddaughters.

I remember Alyssa running to me after spending a few hours with Mom and excitedly proclaiming, "I ate a honeysuckle!"

Actually, you do not eat (chew) a honeysuckle - you suck out the flower's nectar.

How To Eat A Honeysuckle

It is quite simple to eat a honeysuckle.

How to eat a honeysuckle

Pull off the bottom green part that holds the petals together.
You will see the tail of a "string" and you need to slowly pull it out from the petals.
At the end of that "string" you will find nectar.
Lick and enjoy!

If you say "Honeysuckle" really fast, it almost sounds like, "Honey, suck up." Of course, that is not a flower. That would be what women do to get their husbands to buy a new pair of shoes, large appliance or a car.

I don't really think about "sucking up" because it takes too much effort. Alyssa thinks I am missing a major woman gene because she has mastered the art with me. Some day her husband will know just exactly what I am talking about too.

Anyway, I passed a whole bunch of honeysuckles today and thought of my sweet mother. Every time I see one, I think of her and the fun times we spent together when I was a child. I also think about Alyssa's excitement at being able to eat a flower.

Just thought I would say, "I love you Mom and Alyssa."

No Fries On My Thighs

Alyssa may find it quite difficult to believe especially when I'm complaining about an "almost wrinkle" that threatens to develop around the outer edge of my eyes, but I was once twenty years old.

Life was absolutely perfect.

Bet you haven't heard that statement many times nor did you think I would say it either. However, I can say for sure that life was really wonderful. I was working full-time during the day, going to college during the night, living at home, saving money and feeling happy most of the time.

Lunch was a wonderful event every day.

I didn't have to worry about gaining weight because I never gained an ounce.

Carbohydrates and sugar were my best friends.

Each day I wanted to be the lunch fetcher because I loved smelling food almost as much as I enjoyed eating it...but not quite.

There not only wasn't any concern over the amount of carbohydrates consumed, but the fat content was irrelevant. Running into any hamburger place at lunch meant that the order would be two quarter pound hamburgers with everything including cheese and one or two very large french fry sides.

I usually ate at places that used real meat patties that were charbroiled.

The french fries always had lots of salt.

Time changes lots of things like my figure and desire for healthier eating, but I am after all, only human which is why sometimes...

I repeat old habits.

Inside I am still twenty years old.

I can still eat burgers and french fries.

The moments with the burger and french fries were glorious.

The tomato, onions and lettuce were cold.

The burger was sizzling hot as I bit through the soft bun.

Cheese oozed.

That happens when you ask for double cheese.

Then the crisp french fries were soft inside and covered with salt on the outside.

As the sun spilled through the window of the car, I consumed the carbohydrate soaked lunch with the vigor of the twenty year old that I still try to pretend exists.

Each bite was perfect.

At least it was perfect while I ate the sandwich.

Twenty minutes after all evidence of my meal was hidden, my body revolted.

"Sick" isn't even a good descriptive word for how my body felt as it heaved and cramped while I let my head hang over the porcelain throne.

Prone on the floor with my face against the cold tile, completely still, my body spent from the violent rejection of the delectable and tantalizing food, I found the energy to smile.

The meal was completely gone from body as if I had never eaten it.

Weak, but happy, I thought, "No fries would find my thighs this time."

In 1971, digital cameras did not exist. Instead, my parents had a camera called a Brownie which was more like a black square box. Film from the camera was taken to a photo developing shop and it cost a bundle to have the photos developed which meant taking pictures was not an every day event.

My memories are quite vivid and include the smells, sounds and the things I felt at that moment in time. While I looking for the perfect picture to go with my Mother's Day message, I ran across a photo from 1971 when I was only eight years old. Everything came flooding back...

I was going to pose in the flower bed so that a picture could be taken of me. I wasn't really a ham - that gene waited for my sister and then quadrupled in my niece and daughter.

As I squatted down carefully, I barely held the bricks that Dad had put down for a flowerbed border because they were rough and I didn't want to get my hands dirty. I was quite a prissy child. The sun was so bright and with my eyes squinting as usual, I tried not to think about the piece of the pine straw sticking in my leg. In the back of my mind, I was worried that an ant might crawl on my feet or a bumble bee would ignore the blooming white azalea flowers and sting me. All the while, I kept trying to smile for the picture.

My parents were young and all day long, Mom was only a heartbeat away. She talked to me with such love and I felt it while we played, sang and did chores. So with this adoration I felt for Mom and Dad, I tried desperately to pose well for their picture taking moment.

The longer I look at the photo, the more I realize that I'm that same girl inside. Time hasn't really changed me that much at all. I would feel the exact same way if I was squatting in the flower bed today. The older that I become, the more compassionate I feel for myself.

Why have I been so critical of imperfections?

Why did I let my insecurities deprive me of wonderful experiences?

Can I use the memorable moments of my past to guide me towards developing a better self?

"Life is not measured by
the number of breaths we take,
but by the moments that
take our breath away."

How To Create The Best Memorable Moments

I can't go back to that moment in time when life was sweet...eight years old, both parents living and married, no responsibilities and the innocence of youth. However, I can continue to create memorable moments each day by making a little extra effort to live in the moment and make time stand still.

If remembering now is important to you, there are a few things you can do to preserve the moment:

Take pictures - We now live in the digital camera era, so take advantage of technology by snapping photographs all the time. Take pictures that are not posed and are of normal, mundane tasks. What may feel unimportant now could prove to be some of the best moments of your life when you look back on them.

Write it down - There are so many ways to record the events of life such as journals, blogs and online diaries. Be sure to write about your feelings, smells and sounds of the moment. Record enough information that it can take you back to that moment. Make it a memorable moment.

Record videos - You may not like to look at yourself in a moving picture, but some day it will be fun to relive the moment with siblings, children, grandchildren or friends. Look at the bright side...you're not getting any younger, so get that pretty or handsome face on video to prove that you were once young and unwrinkled!

Live it - Be in the moment. Live it, don't just exist in it. Enjoy all the sensations that this moment has to offer. Don't write the grocery list or repair the car instead of smelling the flowers as you walk to the mailbox. Live now. Live this moment. Feel.

Be yourself - Do you really want to be a phoney all your life? It is so much easier to just be who you are all the time. People that don't like the real you won't add value to your life. Being someone else is not only a whole bunch of work, but it is hard to keep up the mask. You have value. Learn to like yourself by being authentic. Be the author of your life story.

Laugh - Not only is laughter a healthy practice for mind, body and soul, but deeply emotional memorable moments are created during times of humor, sincerity and love. Laugh often and hard enough to make your sides ache and tears roll down your cheeks. Feel the lightness of spirit that happy laughter causes and let it imprint a memorable moment on your soul.

Slow it down - Stop scurrying from task to task without breathing. If your life is so packed with events and duties that you can't hardly take a breath, not only are you wearing yourself into exhaustion, but life is flying by at such a speed that you're missing it! Take it one step at a time, but don't cram so much into each day.

I didn't know it back then and neither did my parents, but they created a memorable moment when time stood still for an eight year old girl with flaming red hair as she squatted in the flower bed in front of their home. I thought life was beautiful and the possibilities for happiness were endless. I'm lucky enough to remember it all...the hot breeze, the smell of the azalea blossoms, gritty bricks rough against my small fingers, bright sunshine in my eyes, my feet sweating on the bottom of my sandals and a heart full of love for Mom and Dad.

I still can't believe Mom piled my curls on top my head like a bouffant! That is definitely a memorable moment that is forever etched in time.

Not many people remember being three years old, but I do...vividly.

When you are a young child, short, small and innocent, everything is bigger than life. My parents might have been very young and energetic, but having a small redheaded child that doesn't sleep much can wear anyone out regardless of their age. To me they were always bigger than life and they were everything that encompassed goodness in my world.

We would all watch movies on television at night...Mom on the couch, Dad in his recliner and me in my little rocking chair between the two of them.

Often we had chocolate milkshakes and other times it was pretzels for snack.

I love pretzels especially the pretzel sticks.

The pretzels they purchased came in a box with a bag that kept the pretzels fresh. Since I was tiny, it took several bites to eat a single stick pretzel.

But I didn't just like to bite, chew and swallow them.

Oh no!

It's me we're talking about and I was not normal back then either.

I would take tiny bites of the pretzel and swallow it without chewing because I pretended it was a vitamin.

A big girl vitamin.

I was a little girl and Mom gave me chewable vitamins, but all the grownups had vitamins that were swallowed without chewing.

I wanted to be a big girl and have big girl vitamins.

So I practiced being a big girl.

In my little three year old world, pretzels were vitamins.