What makes you feel nostalgic?

So many, many ways nostalgia can be generated.

My hard-driven machine, which is what I refer to my brain as. It is first and foremost, where memories live. Therefore it is through this machine, and only through this machine, that any nostalgia I feel arises from. And make no mistake, this machine, is very hard driven, so how reliable it is going to be is questionable. Still, it does generate within my senses to same feelings. The same feelings, but phantoms of another time. It is often only a few seconds, where we are permitted to exist in a past moment. But oh, how so very powerful, nostalgia is.

That is why nostalgia is such a wonderful time-machine. We will inhale a scent and instantly we are transformed to another time and place. We feel the same exact feeling we felt then, even if only for a minuscule space of time. That is how powerful our sense of smell is. It literally time travels us into the past.

Mama's home videos are the most efficient means of generating nostalgia for me. After all, I don't want to wait for the right scent to come along to spark my memory, to illicit the lovely remembrance. Mama was ever so proud of her video camera. I think some friends got one, and then in competition, of course, mom had to get one too, lol! But she was so happy with this camera. I remember once she and her friend Jill recorded each other recording. I can still watch that scene play out. From right here on my couch, I can see the two of them share a silly moment. I can hear their laughter.

I am ever so thankful to my partner for putting those videos into a digital format. I have no idea how he did it. Mom was not so great with the camera, which also made me feel nostalgic. It is funny, it's always been funny. She got better at it over time. Just hearing her voice behind the camera creates a powerful nostalgia, making me sad too. Sad, happy though. The two emotions go together when nostalgia becomes involved. Especially hearing her laugh so like herself. We all laugh in unique ways, do we not? But her laugh was special; some people's laughs are.

So yeah, home movies are a very efficient means of evoking nostalgia in me. I want to veer into talking about the memories, the good times. The happy times. We don't tend to video-record the bad times, do we? Well, YouTube actually proves me wrong, does it not? But for the purposes of this discussion, I will stop myself from veering into a completely different discussion. 

I love hearing my kid's voices and their laughter. I love reliving our family antics. We never had our own video camera, but we borrowed one. So thankfully, we can look upon our chaotic, happy, household. It's interesting to see how we parented. Joe slightly buzzed behind the camera. Me trying to get my son to sit with me and do his homework. Not having much success, but I still tried and tried. My daughter is coming down the stairs in a bathing suit, Joe's ski gloves, goggles, and knee socks. How silly we were. How dysfunctionally happy our home was. Our home was never completely tidy, but never a complete disaster either. A home that was lived in. Lived in!!!! Did we ever live.

We muddled through. That is how I describe our existence back then. We tried our best. I knew we would never be authoritarian parents. I could not abide by that for my children. But I digress.

Mama's Moccasins. After mom died, I inherited all of her Moccasins. She had five pairs, all in very good shape. I wear them every single day. They keep me warm, and it is Mama keeping me warm. I also inherited all of Mom's Pendleton coats. When I wear them out to a doctor's appointment, mama is there with me, helping me to feel less anxious. So her belongings do evoke nostalgia. I see her very clearly in my mind, wearing her coat and moccasins. I see her formidable presence in my mind.

Mama's Werther's Original. I have already written about this. I keep her last Werther's Original in my jewellery box. She had forgotten about it, in her coat pocket. When I found it, I felt like I had found a great treasure. This golden cellophane-wrapped candy is a powerful nostalgia-transmitting talisman. It will never be opened or eaten. That would be a great sacrilege. That would be an unthinkable transgression. I mean, I'd get over it. 😂 I mean if I had a grandchild who found it, and ate it up, that would be kind of meaningful. I sure as heck wouldn't be angry with them.

I could go on and on about nostalgia. Oh, and music! Of course, of course, music! Especially 80's music. What an efficient means to time travel, music is. It takes me right back to a high school dance. To all the goddamn drama of whatever teenage antics we were involved in. I never danced much, though I wanted to. How I wanted to freely move my body in any way it suited me. But alas, I was involved in other nefarious actions that didn't involve dancing at an actual fucking dance. Pardon my language.

So I'm going to end here because I have some stuff to do. But on a side note, has anyone else noticed all the AI-generated posts lately? I am pretty good at spotting them and not reading them. But I feel it is quite disingenuous and sneaky to spam in a place meant for sharing our writing with each other. Idk about AI. I can tell when a post has been altered drastically by AI too. I like my shitty writing style. When AI comes along, it changes my writing into something sterile and unrelatable. I tried it once, on FB, I think. I felt great remorse for my actions and will never again let AI change me. 🙃🙂🙃🙂🙃 I do allow Grammarly to check my basic grammar though. I won't let it rewrite anything though. That's where I draw the line.

Thanks so much for reading my rambling words. It's uplifting for me to be able to share like this. Have a fun New Year's Eve. I'll likely be asleep by 10:00 pm at the latest, lol!

PS I almost forgot. Writing. Writing about my history brings everything back. I realize our memory is not a completely reliable source, but it gives us a pretty good idea. As I write, I remember. One remembrance, brings on another remembrance. And so on, and so on. Writing has been an incredible source of healing for me. It is putting it all into words. It is baring my soul to myself. It is digging deep, it is the nitty gritty of it all. It is not pretty words, rewriting the past into something more appeasing, pleasing. 

The words I write are of vital importance to me, and I am protective of them. They are mine. I can share them, but they will always belong to me alone. They are my story. Some things I am choosing to leave out. Some rememberings are intense. I can write them for myself only. At least for now. Some day I can write my entire story. 

Oh and I forgot. Movies and literature. There is something profoundly nostalgic to read the same book through generations. Imagine being an old lady, (I don't have to imagine) and reading the same words you read as a child or a young adult? The last time you set eyes on those words, where were you in your life? What did being you, feel like compared to the you now? That's pretty fuken nostalgic, is it not? 

I also enjoy comfort movies or shows. These are ways I feel better when I am down in the dumps. So repeat watching makes me feel secure. And really old 80's movies are fun. It brings me back to how simple minded I was, lol! How I could be amused by these teenage plot lines. 

Additionally reminiscing with friends from the past. Especially with my sister in law, as our history goes back to teenage years. All the shenanigans, all the fun. And with friends, we all have a little more to add than what we individually remember, which makes remembering interesting.  Nothing better than having a few drinks and remembering the past. I don't drink much anymore because I have a proclivity towards addiction. My family keeps me in line. But ever so often, I am allowed. It is ever so much fun having a few drinks and getting all sentimental with each other.