Tag: nostalgia

Stars and Stripes

There are some bins in the office, and one day, Jack stood stone still, staring behind one.

“Hey, Tom, can you check behind that bin in case Jack is pointing at a palmetto bug?”

(You didn’t know Jack’s a pointer? Proof!)

It was not a palmetto bug, but a rolled up birthday card, almost poster-sized, from the surprise birthday party Lynne gave me when I turned fifteen. I guess it had been knocked out of one of the stack of bins.

Tom suggested framing it, so we got a poster frame for it. But the frame was too big, and the pressed board backing showed. We hung it anyway, in the middle guest room, thinking one day I’d figure out a background.

That day came. I ordered fabric with stars on it and covered up all the exposed board. In the bottom left corner, part of the poster had been torn away through the years, so that’s why there’s a big strangely shaped bunch of stars. I didn’t want to lose any of Lynne’s signature or a little extra artwork from Riley.

(There’s also a pale blue ribbon there that came from one of my presents that night.)

What made me think of ordering stars fabric was seeing these when I was looking for something in my photo albums/scrapbooks. This is a napkin and paper plate from that same party.

Lots of good memories of friends from that birthday night. =)

No Man Stands Alone

I am writing, and in my writing, I thought of the old Lettermen song, “No Man is an Island.” You never know, really, all the music that shaped you in your childhood. I have so many influences, favorite singers and songwriters, bands, and songs.

One way old songs come to the forefront of my brain is that when I drive alone, very often I turn off the tunes and simply sing. This is one of the songs that makes up my repertoire. When I went to look for it on YouTube, I found this version, recorded in May 2020.

I have no more words except what’s on the video and beneath it. Peace.

For over 30 years, the members and alumni of the Victoria Chorale and Victoria Junior College Choir have held this song dearly to our hearts as our anthem. Our joint battle against COVID-19 has demonstrated that neither person nor country can be disconnected from each other. Each person, or country, may play his or her part, but it is only together that any collective goal can be realised.

The 103-voice virtual choir is made up of singers from the very first batch of VJC Choir members (1985-86), to current members (2020-21). In the making of this video, many of us were initially in a position where we were not used to singing alone. Yet, our individual performances serve as our contribution to the collective performance. Together, we are greater than the sum of ourselves. Only if we do our part in containing the spread of the virus, can we change things for the better.

No man is an island, no man stands alone.
_____
Artistic Director
Nelson Kwei


Editors
Kenneth Tay
Malcolm Ravindran
Dayne Taniajura

Tiny Tuesday!

Oh, Doonesbury. I’m not sure there were ever such small squares that packed such a large wallop. Monday I was researching iron supplements (circa 1970s) for the WIP, and suddenly I was absolutely sure the tag line I remembered was in fact for Geritol. Yeah, it was. Played right into the scene I was writing. I love these happy coincidences.

But this guy… Did ANYONE like this commercial?

Memory Lane, with honors

Y’all want to do a little time traveling with me? Back in 2006, I shared an eBay find on my blog. When I was a senior in high school, on awards day, I won the English and Journalism awards. For these, I was given small medals that I later put on a bracelet with other gold charms. I also had a silver bracelet for my silver charms. Charms have meaning to those who wear them. Even charms that were not real gold or real silver had deep sentimental value.

Except for my rings, all my jewelry was stolen in a home break-in when I was in graduate school. My mourning for those charms was deep, because they had been coming to me since I was in fifth grade. They were from my parents. From school. From church. They celebrated milestones and accomplishments, friendships, and boyfriends and love. Charms are symbols of a person’s life, and it hurts to lose them.

When eBay came around, I would periodically look for things I’d once had, including those awards medals. In 2006, I found the Journalism award. It was from Balfour, and when it came, it was like having a piece of my history returned to me.

I tucked it safely away, and periodically, I’d check eBay again in case the English award pendant ever showed up. And THREE TIMES, because I never learn my damn lesson, I found one and bought it, and THREE TIMES, I got the Herff Jones version, which is not what I had and didn’t match the Journalism replacement.


I continued to check, and only one time did I find the Balfour English pendant, and it had been sold five days earlier.

Fourteen years later, in a text exchange with Marika in which we discussed the current sad condition of merchants who will rip you off, she said, “Stay away from eBay.” And not that I’m contrary or anything, it just reminded me that I hadn’t checked eBay in a while for the English award, and…

Guess what came today?

Now they are reunited. They are slightly different in tone, and one has a textured back, which probably means they weren’t manufactured the same year, but they are the same style as my originals. I found a gold-toned bracelet for them. Because I’m laid off and can’t buy real gold–and ha ha, couldn’t when I was employed, either–but I will wear these with pride. Not because I won two awards a million years ago that nobody but me remembers, but because I have defied thieves and reclaimed the symbols of my memories.

(All I Can Do Is) Dream You

I don’t know where in a writer’s brain characters live, but when they tap on the door and say, “Time to play some Roy Orbison,” you play some Roy Orbison. As a reminder to stay focused on the story, you bring out a pair of black sunglasses. Then you write the fiction that’s right. And if you love your readers–as I do–you snap a few quick photos of Mr. Orbison to share the experience. And if you’re a little selfish–as I am–you get some of Bruce Springsteen, too, even though he shared the Black and White Night stage with many staggeringly talented musicians and vocalists.

YouTube–the concert is there.

Button Sunday

The Etch A Sketch was first made available on July 12, 1960. Happy sixtieth birthday, Etch!

Did you have one? I had more than one through the years and enjoyed every one of them.

If you don’t have one now, maybe take a clue from the button and just sketch something anywhere–maybe even sketch the Etch A Sketch itself, if it suggests a world to you. Your dog or cat emerging from the Etch A Sketch? Your favorite pie (today is also National Pecan Pie Day!) resting atop Etch?

It’s a good day for creativity.

Line of demarcation

Occasionally on social media the subject of quicksand will come up in the context of generational differences. The joke usually goes along the lines of “I thought there’d be a lot more quicksand when I grew up.” We blame TV of the Boomer generation. Whether it was a Western, a sitcom, or a kids’ show, people were always getting trapped in quicksand with certain death impending unless Lassie came along with Timmy and a rope.

Yet you don’t really hear about a lot of quicksand deaths or near-deaths, and unless they’ve watched old TV shows in syndication, people younger than a certain age get a blank look when they hear the word “quicksand.”

Somewhat related, for some reason, I woke up this morning thinking of a lost artifact of the Boomers: the humble cardboard cigar box. People of a certain age remember craft projects at school or home in which macaroni or seashells or buttons were glued to the cigar box. Then it was all painted–often GOLD!–and presented to a parent at Christmas, Mother’s Day, or Father’s Day, to be placed on dressers to hold whatever things adults are supposed to keep in boxes on dressers.

When I thought about it, my concern wasn’t that kids don’t do this anymore because 1. all that glue can’t be healthy, 2. that gold paint is the devil to wash off your hands, and 3. OUR PARENTS DIDN’T REALLY WANT THOSE HIDEOUS BOXES.

Nope, my concern was: Why did every household have cardboard cigar boxes in the first place? Why were schools able to produce hundreds of them? WHO WAS SMOKING ALL THOSE CIGARS? I think I saw my own father smoke a cigar like three times over the course of my life. Why did we have cigar boxes in our house? Was it the dog? Who was buying cigars for Dopey when I was being told we couldn’t afford a new Barbie doll?

Now cigar boxes are wooden and you can still find people using empty ones for crafting. But in a Google image search, I couldn’t find a single gold-painted, macaroni-bearing contemporary cigar box.

I’m grateful for that.