Pretending that it's Christmas in September and that I live in pre-Revolutionary Williamsburg is as ludicrous* as a white girl in central Ohio feeling African. Yet here I am, snuggled in my office and listening to the Chieftains' Bells of Dublin on ITunes. I have switched project gears and am moving from a marriage book for Nigerians to a collection of romance books for Christmas. It's important to work ahead. And it's important to immerse myself in things to stimulate the senses--sensory stimuli--a phrase I picked up from Keeping Your Brain Alive, a book I read after my father's brain died but forgot to tell his heart and lungs.
I suppose every brain has its triggers--what makes one person react may not mean a thing to the next. When summer starts to blend into fall, I look for leaves in my yard, I dig out my favorite sweaters, and I suggest that #1 make a pumpkin pie. But I also think of parades, a specific parade--I have a vivid memory I have held onto since high school. My band was marching in the homecoming parade, and I stood in my spot feeling as though I might be the only kid completely absorbed and transported by the setting--my gold cape lifted by the wind, leaves every where, drums beating, the smells and sights and sounds. It was one of the notable moments in my life when I knew that I was standing in exactly the right place at the exactly the right time doing exactly what I was meant to be doing. I can count those moments on one hand. That experience has been branded into my memory bank because all the senses were effected, and I suspect if I had made myself aware of only one thing--a single sight or a single taste--I would have missed it.
So, here I am trying to conjure up Christmas. It's a challenge because I can't taste my mother's cornbread dressing. I can't hunt for the ornaments on my mother's tree--the ones I hunted for and spun with my fingers when I was a little girl. I can't sing in the kitchen with my sisters who are scattered around in three different states. All I've got is the Chieftains. And some Vince Guaraldi. And some Michael McDonald.
It's like trying to dance a jig to The Boar's Head with only one leg.
*I tried out the word "ludicrous" here because Husband used it to describe one of my ideas the other day. It carried such punch, I thought I'd give it a spin. I'm not sure I like it.
I suppose every brain has its triggers--what makes one person react may not mean a thing to the next. When summer starts to blend into fall, I look for leaves in my yard, I dig out my favorite sweaters, and I suggest that #1 make a pumpkin pie. But I also think of parades, a specific parade--I have a vivid memory I have held onto since high school. My band was marching in the homecoming parade, and I stood in my spot feeling as though I might be the only kid completely absorbed and transported by the setting--my gold cape lifted by the wind, leaves every where, drums beating, the smells and sights and sounds. It was one of the notable moments in my life when I knew that I was standing in exactly the right place at the exactly the right time doing exactly what I was meant to be doing. I can count those moments on one hand. That experience has been branded into my memory bank because all the senses were effected, and I suspect if I had made myself aware of only one thing--a single sight or a single taste--I would have missed it.
So, here I am trying to conjure up Christmas. It's a challenge because I can't taste my mother's cornbread dressing. I can't hunt for the ornaments on my mother's tree--the ones I hunted for and spun with my fingers when I was a little girl. I can't sing in the kitchen with my sisters who are scattered around in three different states. All I've got is the Chieftains. And some Vince Guaraldi. And some Michael McDonald.
It's like trying to dance a jig to The Boar's Head with only one leg.
*I tried out the word "ludicrous" here because Husband used it to describe one of my ideas the other day. It carried such punch, I thought I'd give it a spin. I'm not sure I like it.
Comments
you've got to add Mitch Miller to your collection. I happen to have a special edition of Drum corps Christmas music called Ornaments in Brass. You might be able to find a copy somewhere if not I can mail you one.(If you like horns)
"Ludicrous" hmmmmm... did that punch knock you out by the way?
Rich
That "punch" did not knock me out, but it stung enough that I'm saving that word for an opportune come back. Very catty.
www.live365.com An internet radio website that is free if you would like, or charges a small fee if you want VIP access (and no commercials). I have a series of christmas stations stashed in my favorites... and they all play Mitch, Vince, and both Michaels (McDonald and Buble).
Do you have a small office where I could come a conjure Christmas too? Nothing ruins the illusion than a shrill "What?! It's only September for pity's sake." Oh to have some privacy... and some cocoa... and snow.