Southern Snow by Frances Robson
Good morning and welcome back. I know it has been a whole week since I talked you ya'll but I have been busy with my Etsy shop and a few other necessary chores. Hopefully I am back to talking to ya'll most every day. Maybe I need to try for quality rather than quantity for I went back and read some of my earliest posts and they were pretty silly. Hindsight is so much wiser than "present sight" so I am hoping to be wiser in the future and write better posts, but don't count on it. I tend to forget from time-to-time what I have "purposed in my heart" for my memory is not what it used to be.
It's interesting that "they", whomever they are, say that our memory becomes worse as we grow older and this a scary thought for me. Mine never has been too good. One day when I was about 12 or 13, mama called from the stockyard where she worked as bookkeeper once a week, and told me to take out a pound of hamburger meat for a meatloaf supper. She would make it when she got home but it needed to thaw out.
"Yes maam", I replied and promptly went back to reading my book. Hamburger meat went right out of my mind. When mama got home from work, I was still reading my book and when asked where the meat was I looked as blank as a plain piece of white paper - nothing was there. Oh me, I thought, mama did call about 4 hours ago and asked me to get it out of the freezer but it went in one ear and out the other for that book I was reading was sooo good.
Needless to say, Tootsie Polk was a tad upset with me and when she was upset it became "sermon time". She preached about not minding your mama, forgetfullness, reading too much, nothing for supper, and on and on. Her mind was like an elephant's and she remembered everything I had forgotten to do for the last ten years and reminded me of each event. The sermon went on for quite awhile for she had a long list to work with for I tended to forget a lot.
She and daddy used to say that it was a good thing my head was attached to my body or I would forget it. I would leave sweaters and jackets at school, lunch money on the eating table at home, recess money, music books on piano lesson day, homework, and various and sundry other items or tasks of importance. They would just leave my memory bank and never get done.
My days were just too full of important tasks to think about rather than those practical matters. There were dreams to dream, books to read, clouds to watch, piano to play, dolls to dress, naps to take and run through the pasture. These were much more important than cleaning up my room, getting out hamburger meat, homework, lunch money and other boring tasks.
Memory is a puzzle. I can't remember to get the clothes out of the dryer but can remember mama asking me get hamburger from the freezer. The name of a yesterday's church visitor is gone bye bye but I remember the color of my first bicycle- red. What did the preacher preach on yesterday I don't remember but I know who all of my teachers were in elementary and high school.
Maybe we have selective memory and only remember the important things. That's what I think anyway and it's a blessing that I married a man with a good memory for the everyday details so I can day dream about important things - what I want to knit or crochet next and the design, the book I am reading, how pretty the sunrise was this morning and how much I loved mama, daddy, Arvin and love Sam and all my family.
Which would I rather have - memory for mundane things and events or sweet memories from the past and dreams to dream for today? We have to have both so that is why I now keep several note pads around the house to keep lists. Of course I can never find the notes, pencils to write on them, or what I need to write on them when I get the pencil and paper. Life is interesting at our house.
Ya'll come back to see me and I'll talk to you tomorrow.
Nuff said,
The Georgia Peach
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