Nostalgia in November - Sometimes Bittersweet, Sometimes Lovely, Sometimes Just Hard
/
As we enter into November, let’s take a few moments to focus on the topic of nostalgia. What is a moment of nostalgia for you?
Let’s focus on the various senses as we reflect on the feeling of nostalgia.
What does nostalgia look like?
What does nostalgia smell like?
What does nostalgia taste like?
What does nostalgia feel like?
What does nostalgia sound like?
One sweet, nostalgic moment I had recently came from a pic my sister sent me of an antique electric fan from our family lake house at Lake Kemp, near Seymour, TX. The lake house has been in our family forever, and we grew up going there often, and still go to the lake during the summers. The fan is well traveled: it’s been in our game room in Amarillo, TX, our basement in West Des Moines, IA, and then upon moving to Dallas, TX, we decided to let go of it and share it with whoever in the family might want the antique fan. My sister chose to have it re-wired and make it functional, so the fan is currently in Abilene, TX.
Photo taken by Annette Wise in Abilene, Texas.
When I saw the image of the fan in their home, I was immediately catapulted back to the lake as a little girl, sitting at the rectangular table that featured images of fish on each corner. The fish could be seen underneath the multiple coats of varnish lovingly applied by my grandmother, Tinie. I could hear the whir of the fan: it would swing to the right, clickety click, and then swing to the left, clickety click, clickety click, click, click, and I would always wonder if it was about to quit working with that extra click, click to the left. I could feel the sweep of the moving air. The fan seemed to offer a melodic hum of comfort in my memory.
What about the smell of nostalgia? As a teenager, I can recall walking into our home after a full day of high school and smelling the freshly baked homemade bread or Italian cream cake or apple dumplings or peach cobbler that Mom had lovingly made for our supper. We had fresh bread and homemade desserts almost every night. Mom loved baking and we loved being on the receiving end. I wanted to be the same kind of Mom to my kids. And while they did walk into a house full of aromas from freshly baked treats, it was definitely more likely to be Betty Crocker brownies or Nestlé slice and bake cookies.
Photo taken in Lubbock, Texas.
Regarded through centuries as a “psychological ailment,” nostalgia is now emerging as a fundamental human strength. According to one research study, nostalgia may be uniquely positioned to offer integrative insights across such important areas of psychology as memory, emotion, the self and relationships.
We can also see that nostalgia is a social emotion in that it often involves other people. And when we experience nostalgia together, our ties with others are often reaffirmed and can spark nostalgic conversations. Even during life transitions when we might be feeling socially isolated, thoughts of times with others may be grounding for us.
While spending a few days recently with some friends that I grew up with, I asked what they might feel nostalgic about. Many of the thoughts that surfaced were from our school days. It was fun to share the memories of the sweaty stench of the old P.E. gym, the science lab that smelled of sulphur and other chemicals, the sound of the pep rallies, the smells and tastes from the lunch room. And of course, the delicious restaurants in Lubbock, TX also produced nostalgic moments of yumminess: the Brittany Restaurant with a red phone at each booth used to place your order, the chili cheeseburger from Char King, the aroma as you walked into the Little Italy and saw the chef tossing the pizza dough, and of course, the scrumptious blueberry muffins at the 50 Yard Line. We also had fun reminiscing about special friendships and memories by looking at pictures. Ahh…the joy of remembering and cherishing.
Photo taken at Kingdom Possum Lake, Texas.
A hard nostalgic, maybe even bittersweet memory for me involves my cousin, Mitzi. As a little girl, she was my best friend. Sadly, Mitzi had Cystic Fibrosis. One treatment they used back then was a mist tent, and she and I would sit in it together and play Rummy and Chutes and Ladders or Candy Land together while she did her daily treatment. I can’t recall how long we would sit in the tent, but the medicine that was mixed in with the mist had a very distinctive smell, and I am confident that if I were to smell that today, I would recognize it immediately.
After we completed the mist treatment, Mitzi would have a session on the clap board, and THEN we would get to ride on her beautiful palomino Quarter Horse, Denver. Riding around the ranch with Mitzi was the best prize ever. I loved her so much, and was so very sad when she passed away at the age of eight—my first experience with grief, at age nine. I am confident that being friends with Mitzi was my primer for empathy. This is the epitome of bittersweet—the sweet of spending so much of our childhood together as cousins AND the bitterness of the loss of Mitzi’s life coupled with my lack of understanding about the expected projection of her illness. Thankfully there has been great research and progress for those with Cystic Fibrosis.
Photo taken at Anchor M. Ranch in Seymour, Texas.
Many nostalgic narratives might contain descriptions of disappointments and losses, physical injury, separation, trauma, and even death.
Our stories are our neurobiological framework through which we experience life. These stories—the compilation of sensations, ideas, relationships, events, and emotions—affect how we see the world.
There is sometimes an idealized and self-protective version of our memories. My sisters and I often laugh together and help each other out on the accuracy of our memories as the three of us certainly don’t always remember things in the same way!
I recall listening to my husband’s father, Papa, tell us about his high school glory days of basketball. It seems that in later years, his “best shot” kept inching farther away from the basket each time the story was told. Meme, Roger’s mom, would just laugh and say, “The older we get, the better he was.” So it sometimes goes with nostalgia.
Photo taken in Spearman, Texas.
The sounds of nostalgia can involve noises that startle us or even trigger trauma: a rattlesnake rattle, a gunshot, a fire with its unpredictable rage and crackle and pop, a harsh word, or potentially the eerie sound of silence in a difficult conversation when we are longing for a response.
Of course, music is a phenomenal invitation to nostalgic moments. The role of music therapy in assisted living facilities is so precious as the research AND the response of participants is moving. When Mom is having a challenging day, if I put on a Lawrence Welk or Frank Sinatra tune for her to listen to, her whole affect changes.
What is a song that moves you? What is a musical score that feels nostalgic for you? What are the details of where you were, who you were with, what you wore? It is amazing how the “Polaroid memory” can become much clearer with just a little time and focus.
What a gift to be able to share memories with others, those of longing and pain and memories of joy. By sharing the memories, not only can we reality check their accuracy, we can give witness to the hurt, the pain, the happiness, and the joys of the moments. We sometimes have to agree to disagree on how things happened. No wonder…in our uniqueness we all experience life differently, have different needs and temperaments. Therefore, on any given day any two people experiencing the same exact situation could have a different outlook, narrative, or feeling of the moment.
As we reflect on moments of nostalgia this month, let’s trust our senses and our nostalgic stories to invite us and lead us into moments of care for our hearts. Nostalgia can contribute to the enduring meaning of one’s life. When I asked Roger to write a poem about nostalgia, he surprised me with this treasure. It is always a special moment when Roger reads me his poetry for the first time. I knew this poem was special as prior to reading the poem, I noticed tender tears in his eyes.
