2000-06-24 - 20:00 MDT

June 24, 2000

Method

Things we want to remember are to a great degree centered about what happened on a summery day, in a shady park, or gazing out of parent's car windows at strange, new and wonderful scenery. At least it is that way for me.

I have many memories of things and events at other times of the year, but sitting back in my rocker and reminiscing, my mind goes back to the days of summer, the amusement parks, the picnics, swimming. No longer confined to a school schedule and parents being rather lenient about bedtimes, being able to be with your friends with out being separated by classes in school, able to make our plans ourselves for the most part.

Maybe, in a way there are more things happening in the summer months to remember.

Fall, the ending of summer has it's attractions, a bite in the air, shuffling through the fallen, crunchy leaves, a regained interest in school (not admitted to by boys), a girding of the loins in preparation for the cold and snow in the near future along with the anticipation of ice skating, sledding, skiing. Making ice slides on the paved areas around home, and the increased appreciation of warm clothes.

Winter has the Christmas card remembrances of the soft, unmarked by foot or tire, creamy snow. Those dreamy vistas, softened by that snow and recalled by Yule cards have a habit of sticking into our memories. Christmas and other holidays have a treasured bookshelf in our minds too. The activities we anticipated in the fall happen in the winter and bring their memories too.

Spring, the snows gradually melt, Crocuses begin to appear followed by daffodils or jonquils as some people call them. Not too long after the Forsythia blow their cheerful yellow blast in the shrubbery. Then that almost imperceptible, green mist which early on can only be detected by a sidelong glance and a yearning heart beginning it's bashful apperance in the trees. Memories of the weariness of school when things begin to liven up outside and the birds sing the song of freedom. We boys making plans for summertime activities.

But so much more material for memories is available in the summer time history, baseball, circuses, rodeos and neighborhood water fights with hoses borrowed from all the houses and hooked to nearby taps. For people around my age the Fourth of July was a time of rattling firecrackers and nightime skyrockets that we set off or our dads did. And at a slightly older age romance accounts for many, many memories.

To my way of thinking, a person who doesn't have happy memories of various times of the year has been deprived of the ability to cope as the rest of us do. I think that we all have our personal memories, as many differences as there are people but remembered vividly and fondly. Being relived again in our hearts.

Method, ha, when it comes to memories there is none, they cascade around us as our psyche need them.

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