Sights and sounds remembered can be either gruesome or memorably sweet. That is obviously dependant on the situation in which they were presented to the receiver.
I thank lucky stars for the fact that sights and sounds that have remained with me over the years are mostly positive and they, by far, exceed the ugly ones I had to encounter.
For instance, on the nice side, whenever I need to sink into a positive frame of mind, I can reconnect with a beautiful riverside scene I stumbled upon as a teen after I had stopped my car near Banff just to take a break. Whenever I find myself needing to get to sleep or removing bad scenes from my life, I can close my eyes and reconnect with that scenic memory and things just seem to turn better, at least momentarily.
I stood staring in awe at two original paintings in a museum in Amsterdam. I will never forget them.
My mother took a photo once of a little baby girl named Pam Magnusson, when I was just a kid myself and that large portrait still stands out in my mind. Why? Well, Mom placed a little bit of pink oil paint on a tiny flower that was imprinted on the left shoulder of Pam's tiny blouse. The rest of the portrait was in black and white. Years later, watching the movie Schindler's List, I saw that same technique being used by director Spielberg when a little girl wearing a red coat strode down the street full of people in an otherwise total black, white and grey film. I'm sure Steven Spielberg and Merle Park never communicated, but somehow a memorable photographic technique overlapped.
So I have a memorable movie scene a memorable portrait that continue to stick in my memory without me even trying to recall them. They're just there.
Of course I have, as you probably have too, encountered scenes, smells and sounds I would love to forget, but can't.
I believe I can understand post-traumatic stress disorder thanks to a searing memory of being one of the first people at the scene of a Hercules plane crash that took six lives many years ago. That was not a good night to be a reporter/photographer. The burned and mangled bodies of the victims are a nightmarish sight and smell I take to my own grave.
Have you ever heard the sound of 400 hogs dying in a barn fire? Trust me, you don't want to, it's wrenching.
But as I noted at the outset, I'm fortunate insofar as the positive sights and sounds have outweighed the negative in my mind's eye. It's called mental health I guess.
I'll let the Karsh portraits and the bride's Dervish tapestries and a Velasquez print that bedeck my home dominate my visual senses these days. They easily outweigh any ugly plane crash and burning animal flashbacks. Those I simply endure for a few fleeting seconds and then get on with whatever it is I am doing, and I empathize with those who can't let the ugly scenes go, no matter how hard they may try.
I choose Pam's baby faced smile and pink flower, Spielberg's red coat, two paintings in Amsterdam, my workmates' and friends' laughter and a Banff riverbank as my greatly appreciated release and relief valves.
What do you have in your fall back memory bank, dear diary?
