Reflections

The Corona Chronology: Day 22

Note: I pulled this one out of the archives as we have just endured another evening of tumultuous weather. This reflection was originally penned in the middle of a scorching summer, not a Covid Spring, but the reactions and the musings remain the same…

 

Sunday in the Park with Brian: Therapy Session #25 (The “Quick Bit of Rambling Because I Promised to Do This Regularly” Version)

 

Storms have rolled in once again.

This is rather annoying, because it’s near the end of July and by this time in Texas we should be done with all that mess. July and August are the months when a high-pressure cell typically plunks its ass right over the state and doesn’t move, stabilizing the atmosphere but also creating a baking terrarium that incubates the heat until we are all jellied masses of lethargy and bitterness. The people who survived in this place before the invention of air-conditioning were noble warriors. Of course, the U.S. Government then forcibly moved those warriors onto reservations. Ain’t history grand?

Storms make me pensive, what with worrying about potential destruction dropping from the sky and some residual Bible-School synapse in my brain wondering if I’m about to get a special email invitation from someone named “Noah 2.0”, advising me of a cruise ship that will soon be departing from Port Sinai. (All inclusive! Dancing on the Lido Deck! Couples only!)

Tonight’s pondering variations include two additional items. One, I am regretting the unnecessary ding to my water bill, having manually kicked off the sprinkler system a few hours before the sky split open and issued forth an amazing inundation that would be admirable if it hadn’t negated my earlier pain and suffering. (I valiantly exited the back door, fought my way through the turgid air as I navigated toward the back of the house, popped open the door on the system command center, heroically pushed three buttons, and then surmounted all odds by getting back into my domicile without expiring. I was outside for roughly 27 seconds. I lost three pounds of sweat during the process.)

Two, my mind, which never achieves any degree of stasis, hopscotched back to a TV show we watched last night. For those who relish details, it was the final episode of season 1 of Penny Dreadful. This series is fascinating, in my non-stasis opinion, what with it being a mashup of historical fiction, 19th century horror, both literary and real, the trickiness of morality, personal quests for redemption, and startling moments of non-Victorian nudity. (It’s not for everyone. Do your research before you take the plunge.) In any case, there was a scene where two characters must part, probably forever, despite their mutual admiration and respect, and one says to the other:

“Remember us better than we are.”

It was a perfect line for the scene and, in some respects, a summation of that entire first season. And it plucked a personal chord, in that I have often reflected on this very thing. I once had a blog entitled “Memory Remix”, wherein I shared stories of what once was, with the caveat that what we remember is often colored by what we wished it to be. And in that sense, do any of us really remember what truly happened? Does time warp our perception of the past? Or do WE warp it, softening the sharp edges, or sharpening the soft edges, so we can justify what we’ve become, or what we once did? Maybe. And maybe we should. Perhaps this is how we survive, tinting and shading the past, so we can sleep at night, and love again in the morning.

The storms have quieted now. Distant rumbles, brief spits of rain. I’m off to check my email, so I can let Noah 2.0 know that I won’t be needing his services this late evening, thanks anyway.

Cheers.

 

Previously published. I know it’s been a while since I proffered a fresh “Sunday in the Park” post. Then again, it’s also been a while since we’ve had a normal Sunday. We’ll get back there, eventually. Stay safe and make wise choices, and don’t listen to clueless presidents who don’t give a damn if you live long enough to make more memories…

 

21 replies »

  1. “Remember us better than we are.” I wonder what our memories will look like years from now? Will we tell grandchildren about the old days when the scary people on the street were the ones WITH the masks?

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Time has not warped my perception of the past. I remember every single cut from every single sharp edge. (Do not idealize, but rather…remember from past mistakes, lest you repeat them.)
    I remember the heat in Dallas. It was the first time we ever had air conditioning…in a house or a car.
    Wasn’t allowed to use either of them…so my children and I spent a good bit of time in their kiddie pool. 🥴

    Liked by 1 person

    • Fair enough. I also have distinct memories that have never dulled, despite many of the culprits involved choosing to remember otherwise. I suppose, in a way, it’s a blessing and a curse, coupled with the fact that I will never forgive certain transgressions. And the prohibition of air-conditioning in Texas is woeful sin, indeed…

      Liked by 1 person

      • Oh…I’ve heard the old “I’m sure that’s the way you remember it” so many times. This largely coming from someone who couldn’t even remember his own social security number.
        I, and my children, I imagine still bear the scars from the air conditioning rule. They keep their houses like refrigerators. I usually wait until July or August to turn it on, and I keep it on 82. ( I still expect to get yelled at apparently.) LOLOL

        Liked by 1 person

  3. That’s a great line! Whether we edit on purpose or just because each time we look at a memory we’re a different person… 🤷🏼‍♀️
    Philosophical questions and thoughts are my favorite. So many side roads and tangents.

    I have enough trouble with blistering dry heat.🥵 If it was humid too?? I’d be homicidal 🔪

    Liked by 1 person

    • I’m all about the philosophical aspects as well, unlike so many people who don’t bother to pause and reflect. We’re supposed to think about things, right? I’m just not built to stumble blindly forward without contemplation…

      And yes, intense humidity can destroy your soul. As if there aren’t enough things already trying to do that…

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Lovely post, I don’t think I’ve read it before? Or perhaps I’m not remembering.
    In any case, I think it’s true that we tend to warp our memories, most of them. Then there are others that I swear, I can still smell the cut grass and hear the sprinklers swish-swish-swish…

    Speaking of TV shows, I’ve been watching BoJack Horseman (recommended by my kids). Admittedly an odd show, but my God, the writing! In season two, during a breakup scene, “You know, it’s funny. When you look at someone through rose-colored glasses, all the red flags just look like flags.”
    *sigh*

    Like

    • Lovely imagery, with the cut grass and swish-swishing…

      It’s odd, really, how I can remember events in my childhood and teens and 20s and some of my 30s with extreme precision, but after that, everything gets murky and questionable. I’ve riffed about it before, but I think the brain gets full at a certain point. Or we just get tired. In either case, we lose the dewy focus of youth and the new memories have to fight for full processing…

      BoJack Horseman, eh? Never heard of such, but I will peruse…

      Liked by 1 person

      • I think you’d like it? And if you do start watching, pleasepleaseplease let me know so we can discuss some of the meatier bits, okay? Pretty please?!

        It’s six seasons total on Netflix and it’s animated (hope that doesn’t turn you off). Highly quirky with anthropomorphic animals (hence the title, the lead is a horse). What I love about it is that it doesn’t shy away from seriously difficult topics, like depression, anxiety, sexual orientation, substance abuse, the list goes on and on, but never have I seen a show handle them so well.

        Liked by 1 person

    • Agreed. According to studies, we apparently only use a fraction of our brains, at least on a conscious level. Perhaps there’s something buried in our cortexes that reflexively softens the blows…

      Liked by 1 person

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