topic Re: Flashbacks in Community Chat

Flashbacks

suzyQ3 — Tue, 17 Jul 2018 22:32:43 GMT

It seems that the older I get, the more I muse about my past. I'll be walking along when who-knows-what triggers a memory.

Some are cringe-worthy, some are focused on everything I shouldn't have said or done or should have said or done, but often they are just a flash of some particular moment:

Just a couple in the last category:

My grandfather taking me for a walk and pointing out the flowers and the "birdies."

Sitting in my high chair in the kitchen eating dinner and telling myself to remember this forever. Knowing my mother's view of when it is appropriate for children to be at the dinner table, I could have been as old as 18. Jk...probably three or four.

Hula-hooping in the back yard.

Turning my head to see a friend coming onto the schoolyard and then not being able to move my neck, necessitating an exam to rule out polio.

Sitting on the floor of some small liquor/grocery mart with a friend reading the latest teen romance magazine.

Late elementary school in the girls' restroom dancing around the trash can with friends chanting "We must...we must...we must develop our bust."

The above are the harmless-to-the-soul flashbacks. Feel free to choose any type you'd like to share here in a no-judgment zone.

Re: Flashbacks

AuntG — Tue, 17 Jul 2018 22:47:48 GMT

One came to mind after someone attended an exercise class with the wife of my sixth grade teacher and I remembered something embarrassing from his class. He always went around the room and had each kid read one of the spelling words. My word was vegetables and I added an extra syllable (ended up sounding like veg-it-ta-bulls). He teased me about that pronunciation, which I realized was wrong the moment I said it. Funny how we remember those situations. He's a wonderful person and would probably feel bad that I still remember feeling like an idiot.

Re: Flashbacks

suzyQ3 — Tue, 17 Jul 2018 22:51:11 GMT

@AuntG wrote:
One came to mind after someone attended an exercise class with the wife of my sixth grade teacher and I remembered something embarrassing from his class. He always went around the room and had each kid read one of the spelling words. My word was vegetables and I added an extra syllable (ended up sounding like veg-it-ta-bulls). He teased me about that pronunciation, which I realized was wrong the moment I said it. Funny how we remember those situations. He's a wonderful person and would probably feel bad that I still remember feeling like an idiot.

@AuntG, you should have told him that you were merely imitating Wolfgang Puck. He pronounces it just like that. :-)

Re: Flashbacks

AuntG — Tue, 17 Jul 2018 22:56:53 GMT

Oh, I didn't realize anyone actually said it that way @suzyQ3. It's possible chefs do say it that way and I was just ahead of my time.

Re: Flashbacks

suzyQ3 — Tue, 17 Jul 2018 23:05:36 GMT

@AuntG wrote:
Oh, I didn't realize anyone actually said it that way @suzyQ3. It's possible chefs do say it that way and I was just ahead of my time.

@AuntG, hmmm... so sorry, but I think it's his Austrian roots showing. :-)

Re: Flashbacks

kdgn — Tue, 17 Jul 2018 23:14:16 GMT

I didn't take French as my foreign language. I was a sophomore and for some reason the English Lit teacher was having us read aloud. When my turn came I had two French words in the passage: Oui and hor'dourves.

Oy and hordoors or something like that.

My English teacher kept a straight face as she corrected my pronunciation. I appreciated that. Debonnaire was another one I slaughtered.

I never did like reading aloud in class but later, it was one of my favorite things to do with the little ones: read them a story. But when teaching an upper grade I never forced a student to read aloud. Volunteers only.

Re: Flashbacks

LTT1 — Tue, 17 Jul 2018 23:26:14 GMT

@suzyQ3

These often present themselves as “pictures in my mind.”

Seeing my toddler daughter sitting quietly and happily on the floor of her bedroom while sunshine was streaming in.

Walking into a “dive bar” in college feeling tall and skinny...ignoring the guy that had dumped me (oh what a feeling)

Sitting and talking with my mom out at a hamburger restaurant

Falling in love with my DH on a catamaran...ocean, sand, full moon, bottle of wine❤️

Re: Flashbacks

Catiele — Tue, 17 Jul 2018 23:46:20 GMT

Oh the memories.

My sons and I at the ocean all those summer days.

My grandchildren when they were young.

My first granddaughter when she was born.

My parents and all they did to make a good life for my brother and I.

My two best friends and all the great times we had together. They have passed. I will always miss them.

Re: Flashbacks

Annabellethecat66 — Wed, 18 Jul 2018 00:08:31 GMT

@suzyQ3 Interesting post. I'd DVR'd WETA TV, "Washington, DC in the 90's" and just started watching it. I live in Northern Va (right over the DC/Va line.

I'm 71 and have lived here all of my life. I love Va. I grew up with my Dad, my Grandma and my Aunt. My Aunt and I would walk a few blocks to the train station in Alexandria and sit and watch the trains coming and going.

Back then there was very little crime. It was a middle class neighborhood. Everyone knew each other. We could play hide and go seek until 9-10 at night. No one was worried.

We had a large pool that cost .25 to swim all day long! There was no such thing as "Old Town" in Alexandria. There were no 'yuppies' living there,

You could get on a huge boat for a few dollars and take the trip across the Potomac to Glen Echo Park (a wonderful place with roller coasters, lots of fun rides). There was also a similar place called Marshall Hall next to it.

Teenagers would hop in cars and take the short trip across the bridge to Washington, DC. There, you could go to any of the liquor stores right at the end of the bridge in Georgetown. It wasn't filled with rich people back then, just mostly places to go dance....places like the "Crazy Horse", you could dance and have a beer if you were 18. Everyone had fake ID's they were easy to get.

Kids as young as 7 and 8 years old (my nieces and nephews would) get on a city bus and ride everywhere for .25 or even less. Some had Dad's who were bus drivers. They all looked out for each other. The kids were safe.

Parties?!! You betcha! Parties all summer long. At friend's houses. Everyone's boyfriend was in a band...and they'd set up right in someone's house.

I was one of the few who didn't drink. Just didn't like the taste and my Dad was a functioning alcoholic. I just didn't see the use in it. I'd watch these kids get drunk, puke in the gutter and the next day when I'd see them.....remember what fools they'd been...it just wasn't for me. I wouldn't say I was a goody-two shoes, just would rather dance than do anything and everyone knew you couldn't dance good if you were drunk....

People had boyfriends for a few days (maybe a few weeks) then move on. It was fun and carefree. I never saw anyone take drugs of any kind.

You always hear about the 60's. The saying goes, "Tune in, Turn on. Drop out", but not with drugs.

I lived in the same house from the time I was born until my Dad sold it in the early 60's. It was near the train tracks and if I am very still and concentrate, I can still hear the conductor blow his whistle at us kids as we stook on the other side of the fence, trains wizzing by...

My grandmother was friends with some men who'd ride the rails (thinking back I guess they were called HoBo's). They were nice men who did chores for people for a meal and/or a few dollars. No one was robbed by these men, we knew them.

Summer nights were hot and humid. No one I knew had an air conditioner (certainly not an air conditioned house). You'd open up all of the screened windows and doors and sleep soundly all night. No break-ins or murders, sleep just as soundly as if the house was locked up......but it wasn't.

I remember we finally got a TV. It was a console with a cabinet. It was black and white. My Dad was so proud of himself when one day he came home with something that looked like a large sheet of 'clorafoms' (remember those) they were plastic that stuck to stuff. Well, you put that across your TV screen (it was large stripes) and that was a poor man's version of a colored TV. Ha!

We lived in a neighborhood right next to the neighborhood of all African Americans. There were no fights, everyone got along. My Dad had friends from all ethnic groups. I was taught to respect everyone and they'd respect me. It was good advice and I've carried it out through my life....

I went to the same school with my same friends from kindergarten until I graduated from high school. There were times when I had to take 2 city busses and then get on the school bus because we lived in another school district and I didn't want to change schools. You could do that back then if you promised you'd go to school. To this day we all still keep in touch and meet every now and then. We still call each other 'kids'. We talk about how we loved each other switching mates like clothes back then....teenage love...blink and it changes.

In the Winter we could walk down King Street (it still goes from the Masonic Temple straight to the Potomac River). You could buy your cut Christmas Tree in one of the lots set up along the street. The city would string lights from one end to the other. The lights were beautiful. I don't know if they still do it, but they did it every year back then.

If there was a fight it was with hands, no guns, no knives and would last a minute or two and then it was over with. The teacher would call you into the office. You'd 'talk it out' and shake hands and move on. Because there were no computers to let you hold a grudge, the arguments would be over so quickly, you couldn't remember WHY you were angry....

I have wonderful memories with my friends growing up. Many are still my friends. We keep in touch mainly from facebook. We sometimes meet at restaurants and catch up.

We realize how lucky we were to have spent our childhood in a time and place where (like the song says) "Everyone knew our name and we could live our life safely"

Life was uncomplicated and easy.

Re: Flashbacks

suzyQ3 — Wed, 18 Jul 2018 00:33:47 GMT

Thanks all.

Feel free to walk down memory lane here, but my particular fascination that spurred this topic was actual flashbacks -- like remembering a photo -- a scene so vivid that you conjure it up on occasion.

Of course, I do wonder what my mind and the lapse of time does to their authenticity, but I swear they feel perfectly intact.

Re: Flashbacks

shoekitty — Wed, 18 Jul 2018 01:35:26 GMT

@suzyQ3

We must, we must , we must improve our bust...

for fear, for fear , we'll never wear a brassier

what God has forgotten, we stuff with cotton

Re: Flashbacks

mac116 — Wed, 18 Jul 2018 01:52:38 GMT

@shoekitty:

Our version was:

We must, we must, we must improve the bust

The bigger the better

The tighter the sweater

The boys depend on us

Re: Flashbacks

bonnielu — Wed, 18 Jul 2018 13:33:35 GMT

Every year our neighbor and friend invites us over for berry pie. She picks the berries from the border (our yard and hers). She has offered to cut down or trim down the bushes bur I tell her, "not necessary."

The pie, the bushes, the berries bring back memories of my grandmother and me walking along the rural road in Verrmont near her house. She and I would collect the berries and then take them back and she would combine it with rhubard and make me a pie or two. To this day I WILL FIND A RHUBARB - BERRY PIE on a yearly basis and in the case of a few weeks ago the Berry Pie without the Rhubarb.

Re: Flashbacks

maestra — Wed, 18 Jul 2018 20:16:37 GMT

Walking into a college party and the 1st boy to come up to me (tall and blonde-very Germanic looking) asked me if I wanted to dance-he became my husband.

Watching an adagio (partners) ballet class at Balanchine's school.

Driving over a mountain pass and having a large valley spread out like a topographical map in fron of us.

Learning to drive in the Fall on a mountain road with aspens changing and wild horses running next to us on the road (1970's) in New Mexico.

Both my grandfathers.

Nana brushing my long red hair while I stood on a warmed heating pad. It was cold and I was 7 yo.