Essence of Nostalgia

Sunday, August 30, 2009
I am sitting in our car, in the Fairview Plaza Parking Lot, Hudson, NY.
My husband is making a deposit in a local bank. It's about 8:45 p.m.
If I close my eyes, I can not only see but smell the scenes of my youth
as clearly as if they were just outside the car.
It's not too difficult as all my senses go on a journey into the past.
Two doors down from the bank is a small Chinese restaurant storefront.

The aroma is not overpowering but the smell of heated oil, being
pumped out of the vents makes it seem as if I am back in Matawan, NJ,
heading into the Strathmore Bowling Alley for ballet class.
I can't actually remember if there was a Chinese restaurant in that
particular strip mall, but the snack bar could also catch your attention with
the scent of frying french fries emanating out of the kitchen.
Across town, by the railroad station there also
was a Chinese restaurant but it started out serving either Italian or American cuisine. Dutchies was the name. Now it's Sultan's Wok...I think. There has been one or two other incarnations.

And there was a Chinese restaurant in the "other" shopping center, where Grand Union
was built as a local competitor to the original Matawan Shop-Rite. My parents
were happy when the Lloyd Road Shop-Rite went up since it meant they didn't have
to drive over to Rt 36 any longer to do their weekly grocery shopping. Later on I'd
walk to the store to "get some exercise." It was about a mile up the road. Hudson Plaza also has a Shop-Rite. It looks almost exactly like the original Matawan store before it became "ginormous", selling literally everything from soup to nuts. And God knows what else. If you go in these days, make sure you are well hydrated, have a full stomache and plenty of time to do your shopping. People don't shop anymore, they go on excursions. And if I close my eyes, I could be standing in SR, located on Lloyd Rd., Matawan or Aberdeen. Whatever you want to call the place. It's a combination of the bakery, coffee, and well, Matawan.

If you drive down Fairview Ave., (here in NY) about a 1/2 mile, there is another Chinese restaurant, more of an eat-in establishment, with a bar. Eating there always induces memories of going to the place by Grand Union. They served really good food there,but I think they're gone, succumbed to the end of the originals era.
The Matawan Card & Gift Store, The Cheese & Chocolate Shop, The jewelers, Drug Fair, all long gone.

Next to the Hudson restauarant sits a movie-plex. Cineplex. Whatever. There are 2 locations in the area showing movies. But again, if I close my eyes, I find
myself walking across the Strathmore Shopping parking lot headed toward the Strathmore Twin Cinema and I'm about to see American Grafitti. Or the Apprenticship of Duddy Kravitz. Now that was an interesting movie. My friend and I went to see it because Richard Dreyfuss was the "star." A fairly young Richard Dreyfuss. And we were in completely over our heads. We thought we'd be seeing American Grafitti - The College Years but it wasn't to be. So naive.

Thanks to the impact AG had on me, coming at about the same time I discovered do-wop, I became a hard core fan of early rock & roll. My neighbor, a guy who was a classic car afficionado before he was 14 would work on his muscle cars day & night. He had older brothers so perhaps that influenced his taste in music but I can hear WCBS-FM 101.1 as clearly as if it were on the radio at this moment. That was the station he would listen to as he washed and polished his cars until you could see yourself in them. Cliche but that's what he did. He cleaned with the doors and windows open and the harmonies drifted right over the lawn to catch my ear. I began listening to Cousin Bruce and Don K. Reed when I was 13, 14. This of course was after Cousin Brucie & Harry Harrison left WABC due to format change. But I don't have to rely on my daydreams to bring me back to those moments of listening to Ben E. King, the Drifters, Frankie Lymon, or the other street corner harmonizers. Now a days I can tune the car radio to 100.9 out of Albany. Thanks to their Sunday night broadcasts, I can hear the original rockers...and real Golden Oldies. When WCBS went off the air, then came back on but only playing memory music from the 70's on, that was a jolt. I have no problem with change but no do-wop, anywhere? Of course, having moved to upstate NY, I could only hear WCBS when I went back to Jersey to visit family & friends. I know I could access them on the internet but it's not the same.

So, tonight, I time traveled back to age 11, 15 & 17. I walked through
the parking lot and up and back along Route 34 stopping at Dunkin' Donuts/Burger King, the movies, Hess Gas Station. Ben E. King sang, "You Know That You Lied/Don't Play That Song." There's a diner too along this particular route but no jukeboxes. No opportunity to drop a coin in to listen to favorite tunes. Yes, there are Ipods, MP3 players and all manner of other music devices. But no sharing the music. I remember when Paul insisted we listen to the closing riff of "Layla." I still listen for it.

But, yeah, I know, I know, I know, stop the whining. Hey, I'm reminiscing here. I'm not saying I want to go back to those days...yeah, not at all. But it's funny how the threads of those times seem to be as fully present in the tapestry that's being woven today. The anachronism at this moment is being able to do our banking at 9 p.m. on a Sunday night, in a storefront, in a strip mall along the local 2 way highway that used to be the site of the local farms that sustained the town (they call it city) of Hudson. Farms - a stream - dirt roads. No black-top, no eating establishments, no entertainment centers or grocery stores.
Hmm, I wonder what the farmer's wife, sitting in the wagon would see. hear and smell in her memory banks as she waited for him to make his deal with his neighbor?

Story Telling?

So, I suppose there is a story in the fact that I did not make it to my story telling workshop tonight, up in Clifton Park. Or not. I left home about 5:15 and headed to the Northway. Everything was fine until I realized I was not sure what exit to take. But I did remember I had been on Route 9 last session and I thought I remembered the address so I took what seemed like the correct exit. Only it wasn't. But it did bring me to Route 9 which I turned onto, heading north. Drove about 5 miles and couldn't find the bookstore. Turned around and headed south back to what I thought was the correct address. But it wasn't. By then I had to accept that I had no idea where I needed to go and after several misguided attempts, made it back to the Northway. Heading south. While crying. Alot. Hard. One of the things that I have always been able to do well is find my way around, even if I have been someplace only once. My sense of direction has always served me well. Ok, not always but 99% of the time. But tonight that gift failed me. It's happened before. It isn't the worst of experiences. But I didn't want to miss the workshop. And I couldn't remember the name of the bookstore. So, I had nothing to work with. Is it a prelude to future problems? The book I'm reading, "Carved in Sand" suggests that early onset Alzheimers or other forms of dimentia have been missed in the pass. And the book about the neurologist who documented her recovery from a stroke suggests that typical tests for these things don't take into account the original starting point for the patient. A high functioning person who losese their typical abilities should not be evaluated as if everything were normal. For that person, it's not. Not that this is a matter of higher functioning but my typical level of operating is one thing. Tonight's events make me wonder if there is something to be concerned about. Or am I just doing drama? I've forgotten plenty of things in the past. There are so many reasons why we forget things: stress, distractions, organic breakdowns, and others but this rattles me. I wanted to go. I know I couldn't have been too far from the store but just couldn't get a sense of what direction I needed to head in.
And it upset me. I was disappointed. I felt lost. And maybe that's what triggered the angst. I don't like feeling lost, without an anchor, without a set point. And so then I cried out to God, "what do you want from me? What am I supposed to learn? What's this test about? Is it or am I exaggerating? I don't want to exaggerate the depth of the experience. I don't want to work out of my temperment, hardwiring distortion. Enneagram 4 - that's me. But God, you made me this way and now I'm not supposed to be who I am? I feel what I feel, but it's too much? Too much angst...too much despair. And what did Melissa (spiritual director) warn me about yesterday? She mentioned, Merton was it? The womb is the wound? Sounds backwards. But the wound is still there obviously. And then I felt like I wanted my mom. Either one. Not sure that "Ruby" could handle this - but hers was the womb I came from. And then I heard Mom ask, "what do you want me to do Josie? What do you need? And that's the thing. I have no idea. Even if Mom were here, which I desperately want, what could she do? She can't fix my life, fix me, fix the situation...I just want her back. Five years later and it's like it's last week. I hated when she was like this about her dad. I never said anything to her but couldn't understand why 25 years later, her grief was still so fresh. I believe some of it had to do w/the fact she did have issues she never dealt with. But smart-aleck me thought I'd escape that depth of pain, that sense of loss, having "dealt" with my issues. Yeah. I have - but the wound of loss is still there. The grief. Still with me. I miss you Mom & Dad - but tonight I just cried out for Mommy.
And then I wanted a piece of chocolate cake. Talk about sympathy pains - empathic experience. Mom used food to handle the hurt. I know it's not a good idea. Doesn't really change the facts. Doesn't really make it better. I guess it does work as a pain blocker for a little while. I've done it before, knowing it wasn't going to change anything.
But I wanted some chocolate cake and thought, "why not?" I stopped at a diner in Kinderhook. There was a huge classic car show going on. It didn't entice me. I went in but it was busy and I didn't think they'd accept a credit card for what probably would be less than a $5.00 purchase. I left and stopped at the Hannaford down the road. I wandered up and down the refrigerator aisle until I found the cake. I purchased it and drove home. On the radio a song highlighting nostalgia played, John Mellencamp's "Cherry Bomb." Perfect background music to a chocolate cake binge w/a classic car setting. A little before my time but nostalgia hemmed the night.
I don't know if there's anything to be learned in this "story." Or writing it. Melissa suggested I journal around the discussion from yesterday...the wound, the womb, my "4" characteristics. Didn't think there'd be too much generated but maybe I was wrong. I don't know. I've been told I overanalyze things...I'm too sensitive...I'm shoot, what's the word - don't work hard enough - yea that's it, I don't live up to my potential. I've been trying to all my life. And there was one other thing I realized that had me upset. I don't think I can tell stories anymore. I used to be able to make them up but I haven't done that in a long time.
I can tell about things - like a story - but who cares really? Will it make a difference? I hadn't planned on just writing for myself - telling stories to myself. That was the point of going to the story telling workshop. And wow - missed the first session, missed tonight. Is there something I need to know from this? Can't I pursue anything so that it serves a purpose for the greater good if not my own? I don't know. I just know that the cake tasted good. And I didn't eat tooo much. Just enough.