This past weekend was the Westby Syttende Mai celebration. I was once again demonstrating Norwegian folk art wood carving in the Heritage Tent on Saturday and Sunday.
Sunday mornings are always quieter and you don’t have the crowds that come through on Saturday. I was standing at my carving bench, working on a carving and was actually getting some carving accomplished for a change. When the crowds come through, there’s always someone to visit with, and carving becomes secondary.
People want to know about the carvings; what kind of wood it is, how long did that take, and you must have a lot of patience to do that. Those are the three standard questions and comments that every carver gets. I’ve threatened to make up a sign with the answers and put it on my table. #1. It’s Basswood. #2. It takes a long time, and #3. Yes, it takes a lot of patience.
The best part of the weekend is seeing old friends and classmates come by and we can catch up on what everyone is doing. But... it can be very embarrassing when someone comes up and says, “Hi Howard, do you remember me?” I look blankly into their face trying to see something that will jog my memory bank. Nothing computes! Then there’s that awkward silence, and what I really want to say is, “I don’t have the foggiest idea who the heck you are! It’s embarrassing for them too, when they realize you’re serious and don’t have any idea who they are! They finally supply the elusive answer, and I say, “Of course, now I remember you, it’s sure been a long time!” Meanwhile I’m thinking, “Boy, have you changed since I last saw you! Age has not been kind to you.”
Age is the great equalizer. Most of us have added a lot of pounds and look much older. The Jock who was all muscle, handsome, and got all the girls, now carries an extra hundred pounds and sports a beer belly that would put a woman in her ninth month, carrying twins, to shame. I shouldn’t be making any comments. They’re probably looking at me and thinking the same thing. “Boy, has he ever gone to seed. Yes, age is the great equalizer for all of us.
To avoid those awkward moments, I always introduce myself and never embarrass the person with a pop quiz and have them try to guess who this guy is, hiding inside a sixty-six year old body!
And so, on Sunday morning I was carving when I became aware of someone standing in front of my carving bench. A man’s voice said, “Howard Sherpe!?” A sort of exclamation mark and question mark all rolled into one. I looked up and saw this “old” man. My mind was racing wildly, as I quickly studied the man’s features, searching for clues. What seemed like a minute, was only a couple of seconds until he thankfully, told me who he was.
We decided that close to 50 years had passed since we’d last seen each other. It was mostly small talk about family. What are you doing? How have you been? He said he had retired at 55 with a good pension. Plus he was getting a big check from the government each month for PTSD from his Vietnam experience. He said he’d been traveling around the country and really been enjoying retirement. He wondered how long I’d been retired? “I’m still working,” I replied. He thought I’d have been retired for many years since I’m older than he is. “No, I’m, just tired,” I said. He laughed. “You should have applied for PTSD payments like I did. You were a medic. I bet you could have gotten a couple thousand bucks a month too. You could afford to retire if you had that check coming in each month.” I just smiled. Then he wandered off to find a good parade spot before heading down the highway again.
“Well, wasn’t that interesting” I thought. Shattered memories. Almost 50 years since I’d seen him. In our mind, everyone is eternally young, just as we knew them back then. The reality is that we’re both in our sixties now and we’ve both aged. Shattered images. “Boy, has he ever changed,” I thought!
Shattered memories. Our memory captures the person just like a camera does on film. It captures the image as it was way back then, and each time we view it, it’s like looking at an old familiar photo. The photo is tucked in the scrapbook of our mind, but the subject has moved on. Now my memory was suddenly confronted with a new memory photo. The second memory photo bore little resemblance to the old memory photo. Shattered images. Images altered by time.
None of us look like we did when we were eighteen and nineteen years of age. Reality doesn’t work that way. Only our memory photos keep us looking as we did when we were young. I’m sure everybody remembers an old girlfriend or boyfriend who they haven’t seen for many years. What are those memory images like after years of living in reality? How would those images be altered if you ran into them again?
Shattered memories, shattered images, can be positive. It helps put our whole life in perspective and adds reality, not just illusions of living in the past.
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