Posts Tagged 'nostalgia'

Perfect Labor Day, with lots of mental rest

Today was beautiful:

We walked over to see a movie at the corner theatre (Ghostbusters), ate pizza out with friends, then talked with them about the summer while eating plum cake (that I made last night).

The weather outside was foul — humid, steamy, and filled with ragweed pollen. Much better to have a little neighborly kaffeeklatsch in the living room to discuss trips we’ve had, or vacations others are planning. Oh, and Ghostbusters was a total blast, and held up surprisingly well although kids today would never believe a musician could live in a penthouse in NYC. 

So, anyone catch any good movies at the end of the summer season? I’ll probably go back to see Helen Mirren’s latest, but if there’s a film from the UK coming my way that I shouldn’t miss, please let me know so I can watch for it.

Hope everyone had a good labor day, and spent a few moments at least remembering why we have this holiday and remember: look for the union label (am I showing my age maybe?).

Pumpkins at the orchard

Pumpkins at the orchard

It is officially autumn here. The little kids are getting their photos taken while sitting on pumpkins in the apple orchard. (I took a utilitarian Hubbard squash home, as well as enough apples to make a pie, I think.) Some of the trees are blazing orange as their leaves turn. And like always, I look on autumn as the start of a new year. I do miss the trees back where I grew up, dripping sugar maple leaves onto the streets until it looked like Midas touched them. It was lovely, and bittersweet.

Brick reflections

Brick reflections

Life continuously seems stuck between the old and the new. New glass in an old rehabbed building reflects the old weathered red brick of an even older building. We live, we learn, we constantly rebuild our lives. Even sinkholes let us rebuild. I could take a ring road around the city, but I’d only be stuck in traffic, missing the morning light as it warms the bricks and makes the windows dazzle. (This picture was taken last year on March 17th, on an earlier St. Patrick’s Day).

A grab bag of the 70s through 80s

In a cardboard box. This last box was kind of a grab bag of the years from the 1970s through 1985:

  • pictures from when I went to the State science competition (in a viewfinder!! geeky!)
  • my camping set (includes a circular metal canteen in a red fabric holder — chosen by Mom to match my red baseball cap)
  • pastels
  • crayons
  • vintage construction paper
  • a toy from the 70s (that I think is now called a click-clack?)
  • barrettes, ribbons, and tie pins
  • an odd star on a necklace
  • an even weirder clunky silver-tone bracelet with a sunburst on a polished silver tone circle dangle

I’m just grateful there were no records from this decade, shudder.  Oh the white suits, teeth, and perfect hair!

Another day of time travel

Do you find that scent can transport you through time in an instant?

It’s been another day with time to clean out closets, organize things (oh, and unload more boxes my Father packed), and I’ve been tripping the scents fantastic….

My (vintage 1983) bottle of Charlie is now with my other perfume bottles [link to the cheesy/classic ad campaign here]. It’s probably a billionty proof by now. I haven’t found my bottle of Ritz perfume (sadly) or the Windsong perfume. It would be kind of fun to find this Avon perfume bottle, with its kitten on a ball of yarn. It was the worst design ever if you wanted to use the perfume inside the bottle. I think there’s a spot in the old family home which is permanently scented by repeated dropping of the rolling, circular container of Amber.

I also unearthed a bottle of Kolnisch Wasser No. 4711. It still smells lovely, although it’s old enough that I don’t think they sell the flat glass bottles for travelers anymore. I could be wrong, of course.

Meanwhile, I’ve been poking around online, and managed to find the packaging of the perfumed talc that family members used to have. I don’t think I could smell that without invoking ghostly memories.

Memories my father packed for me

Today I’ve been going through boxes from my childhood home. I’ve sorted out nicknacks/dust catchers:

  • fake glass cats
  • amber colored porpoises
  • a small cardboard chest of drawers (covered in fabulous swirls of harvest gold, blue, rust orange, and gold glitter) that holds mismatched black shoes* from dolls I no longer own
  • a plastic faux “ivory” last supper in relief against a black background
  • more flocked animals than I care to admit
  • a fan magazine clipping with info about Young Sherlock Holmes
  • and a book I never thought I’d see again:

Such a lovely surprise to see Walburga Attenberger’s little learning book in among the old newspapers from my high school (we had a Typing Olympics… I never knew). I still love the rabbit following after the hunter and his dog on the Strawberry page.

Thanks for putting this in box 1: I’ve been looking for this book for the past 15 years. I didn’t know you’d kept this memory safe, along with the follies of my pre-teen and teenage years. I’m looking forward to the next box (philosophy encyclopedias — what was I thinking?).

* ??? mismatched shoes from the dolls I gave away? Really?

Driving into the past


Driving into the past

Originally uploaded by rjknits

Sometimes, moments surface like the hopes and dreams of the past. While walking around town one day, after a hair appointment, I found an old car showroom suddenly filled with a car from the past, as though ready to be shown to a new customer.

Beautiful chrome, perfect tail lights, and the chrome logo for the Impala. I’m not a car buff, so I can’t tell you exactly when it would have been new. But when I got home I was pleased to see the mix of car repair shop across the street, 1940s row homes, and modern cars reflected in the window on the Impala’s body.

I don’t know if the car is genuinely for sale, if this is part of a body shop’s advertisement, or if this is a car enthusiast’s dream shelter for his restored beauty. I’m left with a daydream/story of the past being trapped under glass, unaware that visor mirrors are available on the driver’s side too, women don’t wear white gloves much, and most stations outside of New Jersey make you pump your own gasoline.


Flickr Photos

Archives