Tag Archives: memories

Old locks

While packing things away for our renovation, I came across a my collection of old locks that I purchased at different markets in China. These locks are simple when it comes to operation, but complex in design and artistry.

My favourite of these are the combination locks:

The last of these I can’t get open despite having the combination.

My wife loved going to all the open markets when we visited a new city, and spending a few hours shopping at them really bored me. That is, until I found one of these locks and started looking for more. Suddenly I had a reason to go and it didn’t bore me quite as much.

While the locks are all unique, I honestly have not looked into them too closely and they could range in age from over 500 years old to less than 50 years old, but my guess is they are not worth that much in the condition they are in. And, I probably paid too much for them anyway. Still, I didn’t buy them for their inherent value, I bought them for the adventure of looking for them and finding them.

These locks may not have a lot of financial value, but for a couple years living in China they unlocked the secret to being a happier shopper when my wife would drag me to yet another open market on our vacation adventures.

Mixed tapes

A couple days ago I shared how we had to wait for songs to come on the radio to record them. Today this 7 year old memory came up on Facebook:

Oh, the hours put into making the perfect mix. The frustration of making a great mix, but realizing too late that one song should have been left off. The too long gaps between songs, which were actually better than the too short gaps with a song getting truncated (which at least happened less frequently, unless you were recording from the radio and had to cut off when the DJ started talking).

The challenge of getting the volume of songs consistent. The stretching of songs near the start and end of the tape. The tangles, pulled out and then retracted with a pencil.

But above all, the time it took to make a good mixed tape… that’s a thing of the past that carries a lot of nostalgia, and would be hard to meaningfully share with someone who never had to do it.

I had to wait

A couple days ago I heard a song I liked being played and I opened Shazam. This handy app told me the name and artist of the song, and shared a link to iTunes. It was in my library in under 2 minutes. Growing up, this was a different story.

I’d hear a song I liked on the radio and maybe they’d re-announce the title and artist at the end of the song. If not I’d just have to hear it again before finding out more. If it became popular and I really liked it, I’d have a cassette recorder next to the radio and hit the Play and Record buttons together simultaneously to record the song to listen to it later… often trying to time when the DJ would stop talking over the intro, so I didn’t get his voice, but maximized the amount of the song I got.

I would only buy the song if I heard and liked enough of all the songs from the album to justify buying the whole thing. I remember having an entire side of a cassette with either Freeze Frame or Tainted Love ‘on repeat’ because I kept recording either one as I heard them on the radio.

And there was no YouTube. If I wanted to see a music video, I had to watch MTV, with 3+ minute long commercial breaks, hoping they would show the video I wanted to see.

We don’t often think about the conveniences we have today compared to our childhood. Conveniences that are now expectations for kids, but would have been pure luxury or us.

Family recordings on 8 millimetre film, that was played on a projector. Waiting for a roll of film to be developed, after waiting for weeks or months for the roll of film to be finished and ready for processing. Missing your favourite show and hearing everyone talk about the episode that you wouldn’t see until reruns started being played 13 weeks later.

We had to wait. That waiting doesn’t happen anymore.

We live in a time warp

When you are 10, 5 years is half a lifetime. 10 years is half your life at 20, and 20 years is half your life at 40.

By the time you hit 40, your first 20 years are a distant memory, and you remember choice moments, but you don’t remember those years like when you were younger. The distance in time causes you to lose your ability to hold on to old memories. You can’t hold an ever accumulating amount of memories, and so some fade away. So time stretches the past into a distance too far to see everything.

Meanwhile, 1 year at 10 used to be 1/10 of your life. A year at 20 is 1/20th of your life and a year at 40 is 1/40th of your life. Each year, the lengths of a year as compared to the rest of your life diminishes. So time also shrinks the future while it stretches the past. We live in a time warp, and time goes by faster every day.

Sometimes it’s good to reflect on this, if only just to appreciate the fleeting moments in a day, and know that unless we appreciate the time we have, we can only appreciate the memories that we know will fade away.

Fall colours

I just came back from a walk with my daughter. We passed this tree and I had to stop and take a photo:

Growing up in the Caribbean, I have to say that the explosion of fall colours was as captivating as experiencing snow for the first time. We moved to Toronto (North York) and the main highway downtown is the Don Valley Parkway, which follows the Don River lowlands and is surrounded by trees. This time of year the drive is breathtaking.

Seeing this tree brought back memories of seeing fall leaves for the first time and thinking that there was no way these colours were from real trees. It’s amazing that so many vibrant colours can stem from the death of leaves. Fall is here, enjoy the weather, and beautiful scenery, because winter is coming.

Sharing and reflecting

I’m really enjoying my Facebook memories popping up. My daughters save memories on Snapchat and I also enjoy the memories they share from years ago. This morning a Facebook memory of me being at school late at night popped up and I took the 10+ minutes to watch it now, 4 years later.

Here it is:

It is interesting to hear my thoughts on the power of Microsoft Teams a few years before the pandemic made this a regular way to meet.

It’s exciting to be reminded of the school photo wall I’ve done a number of times in my career. I think I’ll get the wheels in motion and do this again this year.

It’s embarrassing that despite my enthusiasm to reengage with a MOOC, I’m still a MOOC dropout all these years later. But at least I made it to week 3.

The biggest takeaway is that we live in a world where it is easy to share, and when we share our memories, we get to enjoy them all over again. These digital reminders of our past allow us not just to connect with others, but also to connect with otherwise forgotten memories.

Like it was yesterday

April 5, 2007

Yesterday, I was in a meeting with a parent and one of my students, (why do teachers have parent meetings about a teenage student’s education and not have the student there too?)

The parent observantly noted that although her son could be physically in a room, he could often ‘disconnect’ and be elsewhere in his mind. For him to be more successful, he would need to engage more in what was going on. I told him, with all honesty, that I too had that problem to the point that my parents worried that I might have been on drugs (I wasn’t). It took until my Grade 13 year (Ontario, Canada) to recognize that I needed to be a participant in the classroom in order to ‘stay connected’.

As I was talking my student interrupted and said, “I just had a flash of insight, I’m a mop not a sponge!”

He got it! And today he proved it. He was a fully engaged participant in my Math lesson. I can hear myself in upcoming classes, “Remember to be the mop”.

———–

That was from my Pair-a-Dimes blog post, “I’m a mop not a sponge”: Metaphors all the way down. Last night I found out that this young man passed away unexpectedly. It’s so sad to hear news like this about a former student. I immediately remembered this incident, this moment in time when I saw a light bulb light up in a young kid’s mind.

This was my last year as a Grade 8 teacher. There are other memories of this student, but they are more distant, faded… it was over 14 years ago. However this memory, I remember like it was yesterday.

I don’t like the decorations

Before we moved to China, I spent 7 days there meeting the previous principal of the school. One of my tasks was to find an apartment for my family. My future secretary, whose English was pretty good, toured me around 8 or 9 apartments, over 2 days, before we found one that I thought my wife would approve of.

Walking through a few of these places, my secretary remarked, “I don’t like the decorations.”

I thought this was an odd statement, since we would be moving in with our own ‘decorations’. I didn’t understand what she meant until months later. As it turns out, when you buy an apartment in China, the structural walls are the only thing in place. Nothing else. A drain in the kitchen area, and one drain in the bathroom areas.

Almost every apartment I went into in China had a step up to hide the fact that the plumbing for the sink, toilet, and shower all had to be put in after purchase, and had to be directed to a single drain pipe. In fact, there could often be odour issues in bathrooms, with little room for the bathtub drain to have a water trap to protect against gases (and smell) coming up the pipe. When we went on holidays, I’d leave water in our tub and sink to protect against this.

When my secretary talked about not liking the decorations, she was literally talking about the design of the apartment, where the walls and doors were, how the apartment was laid out. You could go into two apartments side-by-side, or even one floor above, in a building and the layout could be completely different.

One apartment we went to had a completely enclosed kitchen with two doors on either end to get to the living room and dining room. Another apartment had a bathroom with access only from the kitchen. I thought I was opening a pantry when I opened the bathroom door. Both of these were places where my secretary didn’t like the decorations. And I didn’t like the layout. Same thing, except what I didn’t know was that the layout was a design (or decoration) feature that the first owner chose, not something the builder did. In this way, the word ‘decorations’ made a lot more sense.

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Related post on my Pair-a-Dimes blog: Slowly by Slowly.

The cap gun

When I was a kid, I had a cap gun. It was a eight-shooter, with the caps coming in a ring that fit into the revolver cylinder. Put it in your cap gun and you could shoot off all 8 caps before putting a new ring in. But I never used it, I was always saving my caps. I hid them at my grandparents house, under the bathroom sink in the room my great grandfather used before he died.

This room was sort of my play room that I used at my grandparents, who lived on our street. It wasn’t a room used by anyone… except me. Fast forward to us moving to Canada when I was 9 (we grew up in Barbados). Our bags are packed and we are leaving the next morning. I remember the cap gun and about 30-40 ten-packs of caps. I gather them up and take them to my parents to pack.

“We can’t take that in the plane.”

So, after a little back-and-forth with my parents it becomes clear that the cap gun and hoard of caps is staying in Barbados. So I did what any kid would do… I spent the next 45 minutes to an hour shooting off every cap I had. I shot everything and everyone around me. I spent every last round, and then have the empty gun to my cousin.

It was fun, but not as much fun as using the gun all along, rather than saving every cap for this unforeseen occasion. While it was a moment to remember, it wasn’t memorable because I went on a shooting spree, it was memorable because it wasn’t as enjoyable as I had anticipated, and I realized that I missed out by hoarding caps rather than using them all along.

Today, I still laugh at myself when I catch myself doing something like this. A perfect example is when I get a sticker I like… I find myself not wanting ti use it. But I do. I remember the cap gun and all those unused caps and I peel that sticker and stick it somewhere… it doesn’t get ‘stuck’ in a drawer waiting to be never used.

What are your metaphorical caps, and why aren’t you enjoying them right now?

Sunbathe then Sunscreen

Growing up in Barbados, I never wore sunscreen. It was something tourists wore so they wouldn’t burn. My mom would put some on my face when we would spend our summers on the beach, 6-7 hours a day, but other than that I didn’t wear it. I would turn golden brown and there was no doubt that I was local.

Now, after living in Canada for almost 45 years, I’m far more susceptible to burning and I need sunscreen. But I love the feel of the sun without a layer of slime on me. What I do is I always spend 20 to 40 minutes with no sunscreen on when I first get out in the sun. I literally sunbathe. Then, before I feel a burn, I put a nice high level sunscreen on. Sometimes it’s the little joys in life that mean a lot.