BALLARD: Remember when
'Do you remember when?" are four words that have the magical power to pull back the cloudy veil hiding our past and to unleash childhood memories from long ago. In a matter of seconds after hearing these words, more memories than can even be processed scurry to the surface like an air bubble rising in water.
It is a fact that recollection becomes greater and clearer when more people who were involved are present. Sometimes, to recall an entire memory, it takes bits and pieces contributed from several people.
We recently traveled to Alabama where several of my family members converged under one roof to visit and catch up. Unwrapped Christmas gifts were exchanged since we weren't together during the holidays. Sitting around the dining room table with food as a centerpiece, it only took a matter of minutes before our conversation turned to sentences beginning with, "Do you remember when ..."
My sister Denise decided to go way back in time to a dusty, dirt road surrounded by trees in the middle of nowhere. That is, at least from our perspective. We were two little kids from the big city of Macon visiting our grandmother's old maid sisters. They lived in an old rickety cabin tucked in a clearing a couple of miles into a lush evergreen pine forest.
It was completely different from the way we lived, and my sister and I were both a little scared. "You more than me, Mark," my sister yelled out as one would expect from an older sister. "I don't remember you being so brave either," I interrupted.
Deep inside I knew Denise was correct. I was scared! The two old women and their very primitive lifestyle were a bit daunting to say the least!
On one of our visits we were greeted by one of them holding a shotgun with a clump of dead squirrels slung over her shoulder. "Remember, Mark? You were terrified and wide eyed," Denise recalled. Indeed I was, but I was just as concerned about their house -- which reminded me of the mean witch's house who didn't like children in the Hansel and Gretel fairytale.
But what was more disturbing than all of this was the little shack down a winding path behind their main house.
"We had no idea what it was, did we?" I asked Denise. "Not a clue, but we found out soon enough," she replied. "An outhouse!" we both screamed in unison with our faces wrenched in disgust and out of breath from laughing.
"I can just see you, Mark, holding Mother's hand and walking down that path," Denise mumbled through uncontrolled laughter.
"I couldn't bear to use it," I exclaimed. "We didn't have much money but we did have an inside bathroom!"
"Mark didn't eat or drink the entire time we were there," Denise couldn't wait to say. "Or the day before," I added.
Memory after memory visited us that afternoon and into the night. From not so fluffy feather beds and heavy quilts made from flour sacks to frying a chicken for our lunch that we had played with earlier that morning, one piece of our childhood brought another one with it. Piece by piece, it took both of us to put the interesting yet blurred-by-time puzzle back together.
"No telephone and you could see through the planks of the floor," was one piece Denise added. "Biscuits made with lard and corn cobs in the outhouse," I threw into the pot of memories.
It could have gone on all night! Unfortunately, time limited how many memory puzzles we could complete. Rounding up a memory can be exhausting!
I left Alabama with childhood memories still begging to come out and play. I promised them they would have their chance the next time we gathered. Memories are best when you revisit them with someone who was there when you made them.
It was a little sad knowing that many of our loved ones are no longer with us to share their memories. However, we still have all the wonderful memories we made with them. For that, we need to celebrate! I'm particularly blessed to have my sister still with me. Her memory is a lot better than mine!
MORE WITH MARK
Interested in taking art lessons with Mark? Classes at Hobby Lobby in Macon start Jan. 28. Email Mark at markballard@cox.net or call 478-757-6877. Space is limited.
Mark Ballard's column runs each week in The Telegraph. Send your questions or comments to P.O. Box 4232, Macon, GA 31208; call 478-757-6877; email markballard@cox.net; follow him at instagram.com/markcreates; or become a subscriber to Mark's Facebook page.
This story was originally published January 23, 2016 at 3:49 PM with the headline "BALLARD: Remember when ."