Our skies here in Southern California above my home aren’t
as clear as they might be due to the Holy Fire -- devouring over 21,000 acres
located in a non-threatening to me distance southeast of where I live.
Aerial assaults with a dozen or so fixed-wing planes and
helicopters have been pouring water -- scooped from threatened residential area
Lake Elsinore -- and spreading retardant, to squelch this arson-caused thought-to-be
grudge fire. (An area resident there with
possible mental issues has been arrested as the alleged arsonist.)
Some allergens/pollutants making their way into my air space caused some initial sneezing I noticed,
despite my filtered A/C, but I've countered that.
I’m living vicariously these days as family shares ongoing accounts of a long overdue semi-camping vacation they're taking to National Parks.
-- a young grandson delighting in participating in an introductory archaeological dig at a site just right for his elementary school age and enchantment with dinosaurs.
-- The Badlands awe him with a vastness he has never seen before.
-- Kayaking at Yellowstone on the continent's largest mountain lake with geysers steaming and simmering along the endless shores fascinating him.
That was one of my joys, too, when my children were young --
introducing them to new experiences.
I remember some of my most memorable experiences when I was
young – both pleasant and unpleasant ones.
Thinking of the recent inhuman treatment the young children had, being separated
from their parents -- and some are still having as a consequence of our nation’s insensitive leader’s orders -- I’m sure their experience is permanently burned into
their memories. Even the youngest
infants may not have conscious recall, at least now, but the impact of the
experience is forever etched into their being.
These children likely had already been exposed to alarming
situations that prompted their homeland departure, perhaps having more mistreatment in their asylum-seeking travels for safety, but at least they were comforted by loved ones. Now,
they were wrenched from their parental security in a foreign, to them, nation
where the language was most likely unknown, and not understood.
I’ve seen how physically helpless adults with
the inability to fully understand a new strange situation into which they are
thrust can react with anxiety and fear – this anguish might be similar to, or
even more severe, for how these children must feel.
There’s enough unpleasantness in the world today without my
recounting any specific personal experiences from some of those imprinted in my
memory. I will say that one of them
from when I was very young haunted me in my dreams for a number of years –
likely contributing to a temporary medical issue when I was a child.
Other
reactions occurred in the years to come, including with the actual conscious event
recollection emerging. Even then several
decades would pass before speaking of the subject to seek confirmation I had
accurately recalled the experience -- though I knew I had. These children will likely emerge with
varying degrees of scars from their immoral treatment.
One highly anticipated memorable first experience for me when
I was elementary school-age was a long overnight train ride through several
states with my Mother. We would, hopefully, be able to see my older
brother before he was expected to be deployed to an unknown military location overseas
during WWII – the unsaid thought was, would we ever see him again.
Since we were traveling at night, I was
expected to soon be tired, then fall asleep in our coach seats – lulled by the
repetitive numbing drum of train rail sounds, vibrations and the car’s rocking
motion.
The train stopped periodically to take on new passengers and
allow others to exit. One segment of
the trip was somewhat eventful when a rather colorful woman boarded whose
behavior I found far more interesting than my sleeping. She was busy laughing, conversing and
extending friendship somewhat loudly to numerous, primarily male passengers
before finally exiting at another stop.
The conductor, after toning her down a bit several times,
eventually felt the need to explain to my mother that the woman made this trip
regularly most weekends, so he knew of her and we shouldn’t feel alarmed. The
explanation I ultimately received from my mother was in words to the effect
that the somewhat respectable-looking woman was a “lady of the night” seeking
an escort. This was another real-life
teaching event opportunity every parent aspires to having. I don’t recall if anyone left the train with the
woman.
My second foray through several states as I left where I was
born, occurred just as I was becoming a teenager. This auto trip was from the Great Lakes
Midwest to the desert southwest close to the Mexico border. In many ways the trip was uneventful, but some
of the experiences along the way were significant to me simply because they
were new. I enjoyed seeing cities and
countryside I had not seen before.
There was a certain amount of sameness after a while, in
whatever state we were. To lessen some
of that monotony I anticipated watching for any bodies of water – mostly small
streams, occasional ponds or lakes, larger creeks and big rivers. I was not disappointed seeing the mighty
Mississippi, but I felt quite let down to see little more than an almost dry
river bed when we crossed what I had expected to be the magnificent Rio Grande
River. What I saw was dirt, gravel, a puddle or two
and a barely visible trickle of water -- just wasn’t the time of year for rain
in Texas and without rain, no grand river.
I was delighted we were driving south toward the Mexico border
to visit a young airman, much like a brother to me, stationed at an air force
base in San Antonio. We stayed
overnight, but this necessitated sleeping accommodations for me in our old
car’s back seat with the windows partly down for cool air. Unfortunately, in the heat and humidity the largest
mosquitoes I’d ever seen were hungrily thriving in great numbers and I was on
their menu that night. That was a mixture
of a pleasant and unpleasant memory, but worth it to me to see a loved
one.
The new memory item list surfacing here has barely revealed
any of mine. I haven’t attempted to recount the
most memorable new experiences, the worst, or even any other kind we can
have.
These new experiences, hopefully the more pleasant ones,
continue occurring all our lives in one way or another – some quite simple and
mundane, others a bit more interesting, maybe mysterious, or even
exciting.
That’s good for us since
experiencing the new and different has been determined to stimulate our minds,
helping us to keep functioning mentally in a healthy manner.
So, we need to keep seeking new experiences all our years to challenge our minds.
So, we need to keep seeking new experiences all our years to challenge our minds.
Do you recall registering any particular new experiences in
your youth that recorded in your memory bank?
