I suppose my reasons for beginning writing these blogs were not entirely to share observations. To a certain extent I had to prove to myself that this was something I could do. It became a target to reach - the next step along the road of writing.
What road am I walking down? That’s easy, it’s the same as you and it’s, rather tweely, labelled Memory Lane. Here’s how I view it…
Memory Lane is a blank canvas up front, a faint outline of a road, but with no real ideas about what is up ahead. You can peer back over your shoulder, but you have to be called to. It could be a sound: I’ve been listening this week to the strains of music I had buried long ago, but the sound of NKOTB and suddenly I’m looking back at the terrace of houses that spanned my early years and my sister’s T-shirt with the boy band plastered on. That’s how Memory Lane works.
So, I’ve been wandering along this complicated road, building up memories even over the last few days. I was ecstatic that one of my students received a medal for her violin playing, and all of a sudden, over my shoulder, I’m looking at my older sister bringing home her first trophy for her singing performance. That’s at the house with a 9 on the door - fitting really as it’s her lucky number.
The really odd thing is when those two friends, Vu and Deja, call you back. That can throw out all awareness of what stage of Memory Lane you’re on. And when they call, you are instantly back with them, even if you can’t see what house you’re next to.
I’m taking steps in my writing, steps that will undoubtedly led towards the developments of more structures on the edge of Memory Lane. I hope they will be good structures, pleasing and constructive, like little Dutch windmills or maybe a school to teach people from my own experiences. Everyone’s Memory Lane is crowded with different buildings, and different weathers. I have a few houses that, as I look back on them, are overshadowed by a black cloud, while others - even those right next door - are sitting in eternal sunshine. But each time I look back, there is a little more of that silver “experience” lining glowing around even the blackest clouds.
The slightly crazy, but comically genius, series Psych posted today asking about how long you’ve known you best friend for. And so, with the aid of Facebook, I took another peek back at all the other streets of the same name that crossed and joined my own Memory Lane. It’s true, “lane” gives a misleading impression because in places it becomes Memory Highway, Motorway, even: Intersection. Those of you who have been press-ganged into reading this - that is to say: those who REALLY know me! - look back and see how often our Memory Lanes entwine.
So, here I am, waltzing - well, not actually waltzing because I don’t know how to, more sort of Stomping! - up the street and into the unknown. Those of you who have ever taken the more scenic roads will know what I mean when I talk about there being obstacles - an occasion heading into Robin Hood’s Bay on the non-tourist route and encountering a tractor on the 24% one way road, springs to mind.
This year will hopefully see a number of firsts for me, like my violinist. First time a student has taken gold, first time I’ve ever written a blog, first time I’ve been on committees, and - hopefully and very excitingly - the first time I’ve been published… Watch this space!
I’m not going to follow the tweedium (new word, invented to combine tedium with the trite tweeness that inevitably accompanies it!) of others and tell you to make this a year of firsts like I hope mine will be. If you have a comfort zone, why should you shatter it? Remember, we’re always building new things on Memory Lane, make sure they’re things you’ll be happy to look back on.
I’ll see you when our Lane’s [next] converge!
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