FROZEN MOMENTS
What exactly are they?
Thanks to Amy Jacobs for this label as it fits so nicely! Amy was a colleague I worked with years ago. After I had explained an event, a specific point in time from days gone by which had locked itself in my memories, she said "Oh, that was one nice frozen moment!", a term which she had used to describe those types of events in her life and a term which I have been borrowing from her ever since. Thanks Amy!
We do not remember days, we remember moments. When you think back upon your childhood, you realize this is true. There are shinning moments and blistering ones, but never entire days. When we look back upon out past, we do not recall it day by day, appointment by appointment, task by task. We remember the moment we first met our wife, that Christmas when the whole family was together, that 4th of July your nephew put on the best fireworks display you ever saw. Moments are what matter. Nuance is sometimes so powerful, memorable, life changing and life affirming that we need to record these moments, remember them. We must try not to lose them in a frenzied of activity nor in the doldrums of life's monotony!
It's too simple to say that frozen moments are just fond memories, though they can be and often are. We experience millions and millions of events, tastes, smells, visions, auditory references, interpersonal and intrapersonal connections with others. We experience them throughout our lifetime - an incomprehensible amount of events. Yet we only retain a small infanticismal amount of this data and have it available to retrieve in our memories. Out of a million events that occur in a given period of time, why is it that we remember only one or two?
Well this section does not attempt to answer this unanswerable question. This section is here to only recount some of those frozen moments; they are deserving, it would seem, of at least that!
FROZEN MOMENTS
THE KREMLIN - My buddies and I were at the Kremlin in the mist of a heated football game with the Shorecrest kids, a rival group of delinquents from the other side of the bridge. (The "Kremlin" was a patch of grass we thought was ideally suited to play football on. We had no idea how it got its name. Actually it bordered an interstate highway and was only accessible after one of us had created a hole in the chain-linked fence wide enough to be able to fit through. Looking back we could not have found a more dangerous place to test and hone our athletic skills!). We wanted to win this game for obvious bragging rights. We were losing by at least a touchdown. Our quarterback, Haake, or BIG W as we referred to him, called my number. Ball was hiked and I ran as fast as I could. I do not believe I ever ran faster. I was going for the long one. BIG W spotted me and threw. In my mind I remember saying "I'm going to give this one my all"! The ball got closer and looked as though it was going to go over my head. If it was possible to give more then 100% I was doing it at that moment. It was now or never. If there was any way I was going to catch up to this ball I would have to leap for it. I knew that if I gave it my absolute all I would catch up to this ball and score the big one. I leaped as high and as far as was humanly possible and stretched out my arms as far as they would permit. I was airborne for about 5 seconds and then I abruptly hit the ground. Once I regained some clarity I checked my hands for the football. It was not there. I saw it scoot off up ahead as it became just another incomplete pass. I was astounded that I did not catch the ball, I really believed I would. I was disappointed but I also felt good because I knew deep within myself I gave it everything I had! I think about this frozen moment often...
Oh yeah - We lost the game - big-time!
THE DREAM - I remember going through a period of time as a child experiencing a recurring nightmare. I was driving this contraption that looked a bit like an airplane and a bit like a car. It was not made very well. I would be driving this vehicle and I would begin to grow fearful because I knew what was about to happen. It always happened. I would begin to drive up a steep mountainside. There was no turning back. Higher and higher I would go. The top of the mountain came to a sharply defined point. I would drive right up to that point so that I would become balanced on that point, teetering back and forth as though I was a seesaw. It was frightening because I knew what would happen next, it always happened. I would begin to fall. Faster and faster I sped down the mountain on the reverse side so that the wheels were no longer touching anything. I was in free-fall about to crash. Then just prior to crashing I would wake up in a cold sweat thanking GOD this nightmare was over - for now!
Now I do not know if I heard this somewhere or if I thought it up myself, but I remember thinking that if I told myself I was dreaming while I was dreaming that I would wake up. I remember trying this and having it work - the first time I woke up while falling. The second time and last time I woke up while teetering. After that, I had never experience that dream again!
SUNDAY PERFECTION - I am about 10 years old and am in the kitchen. All my senses are bombarded. My odifary faculties are overwhelmed with the smell of tomato sauce being heated in preparation for spaghetti and meatballs. Just then the radio begins playing "Volare" - I still love that song! I see my mother hovering over the stove. I then see the bundle of comic books in the corner of the kitchen my father brought back from his work the night before - he used to get them free every weekend, a perk from being a delivery truck driver which I thought was utterly FANTASTIC. The temperature was even, not too cool not to hot and a slight breeze wafted thru the room caressing my skin from the window my mother had opened. At that moment, the world, my world was absolutely perfect. It was a frozen moment and it was perfect!
On The PORCH - It's dusk. The latter half of dusk when it is more nighttime then daytime. There's an evening chill in the air. The sun has almost completely surrendered into a pinkish-orange tinted lopsided ball. The stars have already begun to push the sun from view. I am sitting at the foot of the porch steps, my father at the top step leaving the middle step empty. My mother sits in the metal rocking chair. We are gazing at the sky. "I wonder if there's anything else up there...maybe another kind of life"? "There could very well be, who knows", said Dad. Mom was quiet, alternately looking at Dad, at me and the sky. Just the three of us. Wondering. Few cares at that moment and we are all together outside, just sitting and wondering on our friendly porch. This most special moment was made even more special by the fact that Mom was outside with us. I have few memories of her outside of our home. It was nice and it was serene and it was a moment that my mind brings to the forefront frequently.
NEW YEARS EVE - I am 7 or 8 or 9 or 10 or 11 or 12 or 13 or 14 or 15 or 16 or 17 and the years can be anywhere between1961 and the late 1970's. You see this isn't just a frozen moment but a whole series of frozen moments extrapolated into one glorious memory! My beautiful father in his beautiful ways presented me a wonderful gift of New Years Eve party memories complete with laughter, drinking, merriment, friends & relatives which would all culminate with the dropping of that big ball in Times Square! Uncle Tony having too much to drink as he describes his treasure seeking excursions in different continents of the world, the old war stories told and retold again by Dad's war buddies who always made sure to attend these gatherings and then watching their numbers dwindle as the years progressed. This particular activity always ending ending with the war buddies drunkenly singing off-key the Whiffenpoof Song..."We are poor little lambs who have lost their way, baa, baa, baa...", and knowing the special significance that singing this song had among men who were bonded together as a result of World War II. Watching Dad argue with Uncle Fred whether or not a hot war with Russia would be better then the cold one we currently had during those times - and Dad always wanting the cold war, knowing of the atrocities of a full blown war - and my being so proud of his stance, always siding with the more peaceful option.
As I grew older I began to look upon these times with some trepidation, however. I knew that nothing good lasts forever. I knew there would be an end to these parties and of the merry souls partaking in them. And in fact - it has happened! The parties no longer exist and the wonderful people are now gone. But, at least, I have such wonderful memories, such wonderful "frozen moments" that seem to materialize every now and again - usually around the holidays. The proof is in the pudding! I am writing this particular piece on January 1st, 2009! Thanks, Dad!
NOT SO HAPPY AS A CLAM - I'm 10 or 11. My family is visiting uncles, aunts and cousins in Bayshore, NY. Now Uncle Fred et al are avid sea people and one of their favorite activities is to go clamming which is followed by the consumption of said clams over a Bar-B-Que. We row out to the bay and we get into the waist high water and we begin to "feel" with our feet anything that feels like it might be a clam. We are doing this for what seems like 2 or 3 hours. Walking along bay's floor, feeling for clams, bending down picking them up and putting into a bucket. It became a bit grueling but all were spurred on thinking about the Bar-B-Que that was to follow. This wasn't really a relaxing time for me. I had never done anything like this before, and I tended to face first-time events with trepidation. My self esteem was lacking and I wanted to be sure to do everything perfect. I tended to be in a daze half the time at this age, but I did this thing not for the rewards (I didn't eat clams), but for the comroderie, the fellowship, for the belonging.
It was nearing the end of our adventure when someone from our row boat, with muffled voice said, "Ok, throw 'em over"! At least that is what I "heard" (Looking back, why would anyone have said that!?). I then took the bucket, filled with clams, and tossed them all overboard. I will never forget the stares and admonishments I received at that fateful moment. In my efforts to do everything right and to be part of the group I couldn't have made a bigger blunder. It seemed like a horrible defining moment, and one that I would never live down.
But after the initial shock had worn off, the group regathered their senses, reentered the water and resumed the clamming until there were enough clams gathered for a hearty meal. Looking back, I'm actually quite impressed with the groups' tolerance and good nature following my crime. The event turned into a humorous story which was told and retold on subsequent visits to my relatives. Strangely, this was a horrible moment in time for me but one which I remember with a smile!*
* It is 4:30 in the morning, October 4th, 2012. I have just awoken to find that I am strangely compelled to write something. Last night my nonagenarian Aunt called me, just to “touch base for old times sake” – It was so good to hear from her. Earlier last month her marriage of 68 years ended when her husband, my dear Uncle Fred, passed away.
We, our families, spent many happy times together over the years. Some of the happiest were when we would travel to their home in Long Island. My Uncle, a long time naval serviceman would invite us along to go clamming in the bay. One such excursion actually helped to define, with great embarrassment, my familial role. After a very long day of clamming, we had finally claimed enough clams to make it worthwhile to bring home and begin the traditional bar-b-que. Something inside me, which I can now only conclude was the “stupor of youth” caused me to misinterpret a command from my dear Uncle. I never did find out what he told me to do on the fateful day, but it sure sounded like “Throw ‘em over”. Always eager to comply with directives as a youth, I threw the full catch of clams overboard, and forever defined my place in our family. Of course, if looks could kill, I would not be here now writing this down! We all got back out of the boat, and reclaimed as many of the clams as we could.
With each passing year, this memory has hurt less, and in fact has now transformed into a fond memory. My Aunt told me that it was my dying Uncle’s wish that his ashes be spread somewhere over that spot in the bay – who knows, maybe it was that very spot on my infamous transgression! Rest in peace, dear Uncle!
THE FUNNY-LOOKING BLACK THING - Have you ever encountered something that you live with day in and day out for years, and yet are oblivious to it? You see it, make a superficial mental note of it, acknowledge its presence as occupying the space you are occupying at the moment, and then disregard it as your consciousness becomes diverted to something else? Maybe not, I don't know, but such a thing happened to me, and I think about it from time to time, semi-amazed at my non-questioning, mindless acceptance of something that really made little sense to me.
For eighteen years I grew up in the same home, in a suburb of New Jersey. For eighteen years, on a regular basis I would enter the bathroom and do whatever it was that I needed to do at the time. For eighteen years I noticed this funny-looking black thing firmly attached to the side wall of the bathroom about 12 inches above the bathtub, which was most accessible when bathing. It has a rectangular shape, with a smooth surface and with an oval hole located on the bottom.
I never thought about this funny-looking black thing much, in fact never at all except during those times when I happened to notice it. The only time I remember interacting with it was when I was bathing, and I needed some place to put my bar of soap. During these times I would balance the soap near the bottom of the oval hole since the top of this funny-looking black thing was too narrow and the bar of soap would just slide off. So I would use this thing as a sort of soap dish to hold my soap. Sometimes it would fall, particularly when the bar became smaller, but overall it worked well enough!
I eventually left this home. Went to college. Married my girl Sharon. Did many of the things that other adults do during the course of their life. On one visit much later in my life, Sharon and I went home to visit my father and mother. My father had taken ill, and had had an accident in that bathroom, and somehow fell down when exiting the tub and busted a rib. I asked my folks to show me what had happened and they brought me in. My father was describing the course of events that led up to his fall. After having relayed what had happened we were all sympathetic. Then, perhaps in an effort to lighten things up, my mother turned to Sharon and holding back a giggle said,"Quite a soap dish, eh"? Sharon didn't know what she meant, nor did I, but my mother's gaze met my fathers, and in perfect synchronization they both produced that tongue-in-cheek look, with some additional embarrassment noted on the face of my father.. "Rich's father always worked hard" she went on," and liked doing things himself, but, like with the soap dish, he sometimes installs things backwards or upside down"!
After all these years it finally made sense! That funny-looking black thing WAS a soap dish, an upside-down soap dish! The hole was suppose to be on the top! The only people who were more amazed then me at never having recognized this fact was mom and dad, who couldn't believe my lack of awareness!
Then there were all of those times when I practiced kicking field goals, or determining just how many punts with a football it would take me to navigate around the block, or how many freebie tosses that particular feat would take. Yes, I spent many a day entertaining myself. Yes during those good days, I was a good friend to me. Many positive frozen moments that ONLY I am privy to. Thanks, Rich!