Two "new to me" phrases have popped up in the last couple of days, both concerning "holes".
The first I found in a Blog I really like to frequent - 'Willoboe" -wherein the Blogger speaks of cleaning out a 'ghost hole'. I was immediately intrigued and went googling... Found all sorts of references to 'ghost holes' - some pertaining to fishing, some to radioactivity, and one to Holy Ghost Holes in churches at Whitsuntide.
Well, it was evident that it was none of these that was being referred to, and from the context of the Blog it was apparent to me that it was probably a place like a corner of the garage, or the basement, or the attic - or any other place that accumulates things that have lost their place in our hearts or our lives. In any event it gave great satisfaction to have faced up to the task of sorting and abandoning, and the Blogger then slept the sleep of the righteous. I must try this exercise someday soon - I'm sure I have Ghost Holes aplenty if I did but go and look.
Today I was drawn to an interesting column on losing your past to the "memory hole" (written by George Jonas in the National Post Dec. 28th and I would love to be able to link you to it, but there is a glitch somewhere) This I am even more familiar with. Things that I remembered with some clarity ten years ago may still be available to me now, but that is because I had the wit to write them down, - otherwise they would have joined the blurs that "make up one's recollection of a life'.
Of course there are a lot of things I didn't write down, - there are whole years when our children were growing up that I remember only in scattered moments, - small events that are so unimportant that you could never imagine them being remembered, and returning to consciousness at a phrase of music, a scent or even just the atmosphere of a summer's day or a winter's walk.
Things so recent as the reason for going down the hallway, or up the stairs, are the ones that escape you first. I do get tired of "aging" jokes that have far too much reality attached to them to be even funny..... Don't ever pause on the stairs, or you might forget if you are going up, or coming down.
It's true, there are lots of funny anecdotes about memory and aging, - but there are lots of scary ones, too. My sister tells me that if you can draw a clock and add the hands you are still safe, and that the loss of memory, as well as both mental and physical facilities are not imminent... I cling to this, and draw a lot of clocks at regular intervals. Just checking....
I can remember being amazed at the things that my Grandmother remembered about her childhood, and the early days of her marriage, and thinking then that it was miraculous that she should remember so long. I am now just short a year of the age at which she died, and somehow it doesn't seem so miraculous anymore. Just a fact of life. Not one that I can explain, but one that I am thankful for. Those early memories are precious - the ones that stayed with us. I look at my granddaughters who now are experiencing the wonderful sensation of falling in love, having first babies, moving into new homes and it all comes flooding back. All the endearing emotions that accompany that time of life. The highs, and the lows, the agonies and the ecstasies.
Well, now it's time to go and play cards with Husband, - our nightly time of companionship and stirring up of the brain......just a little insurance. Is it his turn to deal first, or mine???? Or is it the cat's turn?