Memories of Place and Time

I've been thinking a lot about memories lately. Of course I, as I believe my friend Kenny described himself once, was born nostalgic. Even as a little kid I found memories and traditions very important. And the older I get the more people in my age group have joined me so I no longer feel as alone. Part of the reason I've been mulling it over is because I've been pondering how upset I am about my in-laws' old house in Gifford being gone. Why does that means so much to me---why does it hit me as it does? I remember when I lost my sister Judi that I felt like I had lost so much of my history. And oddly, although this is an inanimate object that I had no formal ties to anymore...I again feel as though I lost a bit of my history. Is that what nostaliga is.....just fighting the feeling that bits of your life are being erased?

I've always been one to try to contain memories within things. Memories...history....why else am I so drawn to antiques and items with age....and why have I been since I was a young child? Things speak to me, maybe more than I should. We no longer use ice cube trays, but I used to always feel so guilty about leaving one lone icecube in the tray. But things other than lonely ice cubes can speak SO loudly. One of the most poignant remembrences of the day of the  Kennedy assasination was from my friend Toby Weiss. On Facebook yesterday she posted this picture, with the following comment:

This is the silk dress my mother wore to work on November 22, 1963. Even though it was one of her favorites, she couldn't bear to wear it again. The "Kennedy dress" just sits in a closet, and occasionally gets aired out, like this.

And I swear, those simple words, and the fact that the beautiful dress sat in a closet for all those years, because of that memory.....it said more than all the TV specials and essays and editorials could ever possibly say.

Thanks Toby.