This Sunday, I hosted an impromptu party that included three generations who are more like family than guests. Four of them were kids. It had everything you could want out of a classic autumn party: apple bobbing, pumpkin decorating, a weenie roast, s’mores, and even a musician-led, fire-side song-fest! The night ended with John Denver’s classic, “Country Roads.” That’s when the grandma in the group turned to me and said, “Thanks for creating such a great memory for my grandkids.” That comment stayed with me this week. It’s led to a reflection that will begin with a hand-me-down memory that’s older than me. You’ll see how the echoes of it showed up on Sunday night, over sixty years later. That’ll lead to some observations about intentionally supplying memory care for yourself.
How It All Started with Grandpa Harry
Even before the idea of me occurred to mom and dad, my three older siblings were treated to a one act play produced, directed, and starring Grandpa Harry. With only a sixth grade education, somehow, he must’ve known all about Jean Piaget’s research on cognitive development. Piaget systematically observed how kids, under the age of five, are given to magical thinking. Sadly, (depending on your outlook) the magic begins ebbing at around six years of age. On a rural summer’s morning, Harry decided to perform a little magic for his three city-dwelling grandkids.
On the down-low, he asked Grandma Francie to bring the kids out to the garden just a few minutes after they arrived. That gave him enough time to somehow hide two quarts of water under his huge hat. The way the story was passed down to me, once they entered the garden, they discovered Grandpa. He was working harder than any human being had probably ever worked—all the way back to when Adam and Eve were thrown out of their garden! He was, “HOT!” he exclaimed. “SO HOT!” He couldn’t “ever remember feeling THIS HOT before!” Theatrically, with great flourishes of his handkerchief, he dabbed and wiped at his neck and forehead! Finally, he decided it was time for a well-earned break in the shade. Catching his breath, he slowly inched off his hat. This managed to disrupt the suctioned-seal that held all that water between hat and head. Two quarts of “sweat” immediately poured all over him. In my mind’s eye, I picture soaked bib overalls, three astonished kids, and a fifty-plus year-old man trying desperately to keep the magic going by hiding his laughter under his hat!
The Torch is Passed
A lot of Grandpa Harry lived in my dad. Back in the 1930s and 40s, growing up on a coal miner’s budget in a small town, meant that dental care was performed more with pliers, than drills and fillings. By the time dad had turned thirty, he was sporting a full set of dentures. For a house filled to the brim with small kids, this turned out to be a source of endless entertainment! The ability to instantly become toothless gave my dad’s face a pliability that came in handy for comedy. At bedtime, he’d enchant my younger brothers and me with a thriller involving a hungry fish sneaking up, oh-so-stealthily, on a blissful, naïve little bug, that played placidly on the pond’s serene surface. The tension would slowly build, until in one decisive moment, dad’s teeth would spring forward—several inches out of his mouth—quick as a trout swallow’s a fly! Like a frog’s tongue, just as fast as they made their lethal appearance, they managed to snap back into his mouth! “Gulp,” the story concluded! I’m not sure how our squeals of delight and pleas to “do it again!” helped anybody fall asleep? Like his dad, my dad had magic in him. Metal to magnet, his kids pulled it out of him, regardless of something so incidental as sensible bedtimes!
The Power of a Memory
Throughout the night, of the Autumn Equinox party, I caught myself channeling the resting souls of my dad and Grandpa Harry. They’d have been proud of my dramatic shark-during-a-feeding-frenzy approach to apple-bobbing! Like a bull charging thirty-six little red matador’s flags, I snorted, charged, and chased every single apple all over that tin tub, eventually pinning one on the bottom. I emerged from the water with a triumphant bellow! I vigorously shook the water from my mane! Then, ravenously, and dramatically, I consumed my prize!
When he died, dad didn’t leave me any property, and not much money. What I’ve gotten in touch with this week, is part of an inheritance that he did pass down to me. It’s something his dad passed to him. This week, I got in touch with the fact that I got a little magic inside me too!
Memory Care
Memories hold meaning, and reflect back to us a powerful sense of who we are, and who we want to be. By intentionally selecting those memories that embody the best in us, and savoring them, we affirm a deep part of ourselves. A good counselor carves out plenty of time to assist a client in savoring those memories that fall under the chapter title: “The Joyful Mysteries of My Life.” When was the last time that you contemplated the Joyful Mysteries of your life?
The Joyful Mysteries of My Life: An Exercise for You
Surface at least one memory that contains some content of well-being, strength, or joy for you. Step back into that memory with your five senses, as well as your inner sense of that experience.
1. Notice the somatic/feeling experience that accompanies this memory. Locate it in your body, and just sit with it. See if you can put words to that inner experience. See if it precipitates a smile.
2. When were some other experiences that carried this emotional/somatic feeling with them? Do your best to not turn this into an intellectual exercise. See if you can allow the chain of memories to percolate up from your unconscious the way fireworks emerge seemingly one blooming out of another.
3. As you free-associate these memories, just gently take note of them. Be patient. Just stay with it. At some point, jot down what shows up.
4. See if you can notice a pattern or theme that emerges from the collection of these memories.
5. Take note of the earliest, or most powerful of these recollections.
6. Finally, you could choose to step back into one of the remembered events that attracts you. If you make this choice, go back with your five senses, seeing, hearing, smelling what there is to experience back there. Pay attention to your internal senses as the scene unfolds.
Take plenty of time to savor whatever you find there. See if you can smile while you express gratitude for this experience.
At the conclusion of this exercise, simply record in your journal what happened during this meditation. You might choose to share it with a spiritual director, counselor, or trusted friend.
Dialogue
Describe two or three of your most treasured memories.
If you are sharing this with a dialogue partner, ask them if these memories reveal anything about you for them.
What are those memories for you that shine a light on a signature strength of yours?
Name a time when you created a good memory for somebody else?
Name a time when someone created a good memory for you on purpose.