Memories

Memories seem to come to me at random times.  Something will spur an old memory like it did a day or so ago.  Then others will flood back.  Most all of my memories are good ones.  That doesn't mean there aren't any bad ones.  This particular time might be considered both.  But to me they are all good as it reminds me of my Grandparents, my Mother's parents.

There were a couple things I read recently that got these old memories going.  One on the book of faces and one on another blog I read.  Those posts were about thunder.  I was very fearful of thunder as a small child.  I was fearful of a lot of things, some I will relate at another time.  However, I now enjoy it.  Being very afraid of it as a child, others could see that I was afraid.  I didn't cry, but my hands were over my ears and I would jump when it was pretty loud.  Inside myself I was cowering, awaiting the next huge clap.  And of course the lightning played a big part of this reaction.  I can remember my Dad saying how he thought storms and thunder weren't as bad as they were when he was a kid.  Well, duh.  As a kid, everything seems bigger and louder than when we are adults.  I didn't get any sympathy from my parents. 

I believe my fear of things in general came somewhat naturally from the stories I have been told and the things I observed.  My Mom was a fearful person though not as much as my Grandmother and also my Great Grandmother from the stories I have heard.  One story sticks out about my Great Grandmother, who I never knew.  This was in the early days of aviation apparently or maybe they lived so far in the sticks planes just rarely if ever came by.  She was an adult when this happened.  The first plane she ever saw sent her into a big fright.  She heard it first and ran out to see what the noise was but ran back in and hid in the bathroom terrified of this thing in the sky.  There was other talk about her being so fearful she would not let her kids do a lot of kid things out of fear.  Much of that fear was 'inherited' by my Grandmother. my Mother, and then me, each in a lesser degree.  

One huge gigantic monstrous thunderstorm came along when we were visiting my Grandparents.  My Grandfather in an attempt to assuage my fears told me not to worry, it was just a potato wagon going over a wooden bridge.   I think in images a lot of the time with descriptive things and this was the perfect picture in my mind.  I could imagine how it looked and sounded every time thunder came and faded away, just as a wagon would as it hit the wooden bridge hard and fast and then fade away as it got farther away.  Of course I knew it wasn't a real wagon, but the images did actually help me deal with the fear better.  From then on, every time I heard thunder, and even now, I still picture that wagon hitting that wooden bridge at a gallop and fading away.  That is a very pleasant memory for me and reminds me of my Grandfather and how kind he was and what a great man also.  Then all the attached memories come in one by one.  He passed from cancer at an early age, 73 I think.  My Grandmother lived into her 90's.  I miss them.

Happy Trails