word of the day: remembrance

by erika

Hi Friends,

Before me, in my favorite cut glass vase, is a bundle of white Woodstock wild flowers and one singular hot pink rose-an unabashed flush against a backdrop of summer clouds. Woodstock, the music festival, happened 50 years ago next month, and tonight, I am off to see the new Tarantino film that also takes place in 1969. Last month, the 50th celebration of Stonewall. Last Saturday, the 50th anniversary of the lunar landing. 1969. The year John and Yoko are married (and the Beatles give their last public performance), the internet is created, the Buckeyes win the Rose Bowl but later that year lose to Michigan, ye olde halfpenny ceases to be legal tender in the UK, the draft is reinstated and all those born on 9/14/44-51 will be the first selected on Dec.1., and Niagra Falls ran dry. The Army Corps of engineers “de-watered” the falls to divert water from the American channel and two bodies were found dashed upon the rocks.

From thoughts of flowers to an hour reading about the Manson family and Nixon and the woman’s body wearing a ring that said, “forget-me-not” found at the base of the falls. So much to remember, so much not to forget.

word of the day: remembrance

as a noun that behaves like a verb:

The action of remembering

The act or instance of recalling

The putting back together of memories


as a noun that behaves like a locket:

The object that holds the memory of something bigger than the thing itself


So funny that these flowers, so very alive before me, could serve as a remembrance of a time I only imagine I knew in the life just before this one. And yet these flowers will die within days and perhaps it will be the vase that held them that will in the future hold their memory which will point me to this morning where I sit with a sore knee and a healing heart recalling a time immortalized with nostalgia for others but could only be guessed at by me. forget me not! yell these things from their tables and frames and news paper clippings. forget me not! sing my knees as they remember dancing without pain. forget me not! cry my dreams from last night–full of rooms from old houses and snowy owls and lost loves. Already today, so much time spent re-collecting my own moments and those borrowed from a farm in upstate New York. Today, I will listen to Melanie, who only played Woodstock because she was willing to sing in the rain, and think of the first time I heard her song “Brand New Key” as an 18 year-old in Manhattan with my girl Jess and remember how I survived til now to smell these blooms of nostalgia before me and live so many moments over again. remembrance.

Love to all,

not-so-silent e