Chasing Down the Muse: Sweet memories of sticky days
Life is all memory, except for the one present moment that goes by you so quickly you hardly catch it going. — Tennessee Williams
It was a sweltering summer-like afternoon, and the caws of crows and screeching of jays sent me down memory lane as I lolled lazily in the heat. My mind, triggered by the temperature and the sounds of the birds, went to childhood memories inland, where summer and fall heat were just de rigueur.
The rush of memories brought dust and sweat along with sweet blackberry taste and the stain of same on sunburned arms. It brought the cool rush of water on diving into the deep end of the city’s park plunge. The fresh smell of lemons squeezed into the old green pitcher for lemonade by my grandmother’s small hands almost seemed real in my mind.
In the fall came the L.A. County Fair, just as it does today. It seemed all of us kids just had to go. Whether it was the day off school or the titillation of the fair itself, it was not to be missed. We would wander around to whatever interested us most, sticky pink cotton candy in our hands. The odor of manure and other more savory smells assailed our nostrils as we wandered with sweat glistening on our bodies, causing our clothing to wrinkle up and fasten tight to our skin.
Of course there were the thrilling rides, but another aspect that always intrigued me was the opportunity to see so many things otherwise not known of in those pre-Internet days. The world just seemed to open wide. Sticky bodies aside, these days at the fair seemed to pass quickly.
Away from the park plunge in summer or the September fair, there was only so much time that could be spent on those hot days wandering through fields and groves seeking adventure. On many days, I would finally be driven into the cool confines of the city Library to enjoy the many stacks of books.
In these books, a growing mind could find itself drifting and dreaming and going anywhere and everywhere. Along with the time spent wandering in nature, this was where my muse really had hold of me and all of my senses. Time passed quickly as worlds and other lives were explored. The place I lived was expanded in the quiet hours spent in those cool library rooms.
Suddenly, the harsh, angry screech of a nearby scrub jay brought me back to the moment as golden light filled the late afternoon canyon. Back in the present, cool breezes picked up off the ocean and began to cool the hills as a flock of crows flew overhead, heading inland for the night.
Once again, as I pondered the memories called up, it occurred to me that while life’s moments might be fleeting, as Williams said, there is something in us that notices, that stores these treasures to pull out at times. And I was reminded also how important it is to walk slowly, not in haste, paying attention and hoarding the sights, sounds, smells and touches to savor on some other distant sweltering afternoon.
CHERRIL DOTY is an artist, writer, and teacher who embraces the mystery and magic of all that is life. You can reach her at (714) 745-9973 or by email at cherril@cherrildoty.com.