Hey, the memory may come and go, but music is the great equalizer. I grew up in a household full of music -- of all types -- and took a turn at lessons in organ (hated it), violin (meh), viola (loved it), and piano (loved it more and still have one). Some people say that people's memories are stimulated in a completely different way by music, and that people in comas may not remember much, but they remember the music you play for them while they are sleeping.
Sometimes I have to turn the music off in the car, if I'm having a really busy day and my head is already spinning, because bringing in a bevy of memories can just plain be distracting. More often, I'm afraid I'm going to miss a call from work because I'm rockin out. Heck, I was sitting at a red light yesterday, in front of an unmarked car, watching my rear view mirror while the cop behind me rocked out. Ya gotta do what ya gotta do.
And so it was that I found myself driving into town this morning, and what should come on but this:
A song that invokes STRONG memories for me of my mother in law (may she rest in peace). The song is from the movie "White Nights," which the ex and I saw with his parents when we lived in Florida. We had had a lovely sunset dinner with them at The Sandbar. I have no idea what I ate, but I do know that my mother in law ate shrimp. It was the last time she ate it in my presence. What she didn't tell me was that she was allergic to shrimp. Violently allergic. She could, by her report, eat it, but only until she got an odd metallic taste in her mouth. At that point, she had to stop, or she'd react. Of course, I went into dinner knowing none of this, and this happened to be a night where she decided to push the envelope. God love her, she loved shrimp.
So we left and went to the movie. I really can't tell you much about it except Gregory Hines was in it, and so was Isabella Rosselini, and there was something about Russia. Partway into the movie, my mother in law excused herself and made for the door like a road runner, looking rather green. I decided it was best for me to check on her, and walked into the hallway just in time to watch her vomit straight into the trash can in the hallway. Got her to the bathroom, where she continued to hurl. And hurl. And hurl.
I don't remember how we got home. I don't know if the men watched the end of the movie. I don't remember how we got home. What I do remember is that she laid down in our apartment and went to sleep, and a couple of hours later, she got up, hurling like no one I've ever seen in my life.
Keep in mind that on May 20th, I will have been a nurse for 30 years. And I have NEVER in my life seen someone vomit like she did. It was like a disgusting Fountain of Trevi, but trust me, I never, ever wanted to return to that fountain. Poor thing. We were up most of the night before it finally settled down. And if she even so much as mentioned shrimp to me after that, we'd exchange a look that put the ix-nay on it immediately.
What a memory to evoke at 7am, Fortunately, 107.9 plays such a wild mix of music that I went on to a completely different memory with the next song. Against all odds............
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