Cloud(ed) Memories

"Cloud(ed) Memories" by Marc Haynes 

I enjoy looking back at my 5 decades on this earth. I feel sometimes it’s been a whirlwind of memories and emotions. These days, those memories tend to get jumbled. I remember them pretty well but sometimes not without a discrepancy in detail or time. Did I go to Baltimore before San Francisco? What year was that? When was I last in Sedona? What was my one cat’s name back in childhood? Why did I not like that guy in college? What did he do to me to not like him so much? Does it even matter now? And you eventually realize, with a chuckle, that it does not.

What matters are the good memories, and even the bad ones. And don’t forget those memories which you learned something from. That’s what shapes and molds us. Not the memory of that idiot roommate from freshman year in college. 

We tend to get caught up in the details of it all. Does it matter when I went to Baltimore? I know that I went and had a blast. It was such a fun trip. John and I went to the oldest Irish bar in the country, Patrick’s of Pratt St. We made new friends and I got lovingly raked over the coals by the owner Patrick Rowley. He stated he wouldn’t be insulting me so much if he didn't like me. We were all laughing and it was a good roast by him, my new friend. I had an incredible crab cake sandwich too. But does it matter if it was 1998 or 2005? Nope. That awesome memory remains. 

 

Our memories and emotions can be like a roller coaster. Fleeting glimpses into our minds of the ups and downs, good times and bad, which may come rushing forth like a burst dam or like the soft babbling of a stream, little bits here and there. But the time line gets clouded, a few details are forgotten. 

 

I think I got buzzed drinking Guinness Stout that warm spring Baltimore evening. But it could have been Killians Irish Red. In fact I think it was. I remember a young Irish couple playing Irish folk songs. Both singing, he was on his guitar and she with her hauntingly beautiful voice. I also remember that in my inebriated state, John and I met the head of the Baltimore St. Patrick’s Parade who was best friends with the bar owner. He and his wife gave us a lift back to the hotel stating that we shouldn’t dare walk back buzzed through that part of town. It was so very kind of him to be concerned with our safety that late at night.

We also visited the final resting place of one of my favorite authors, Edgar Allen Poe and then a quick dash for lunch through the downtown farmers market. I remember we particularly enjoyed buying various spices at the now defunct McCormicks spice shop in the Inner Harbor mall. Unfortunately Patrick’s of Pratt Street has now also closed but those fond memories remain! 

As I quietly drift through my memories I am thinking there definitely was more than one Baltimore trip over the years. I think I remember three, possibly four! Ha-ha! Oh it’s funny how these memories merge. I look out my office window this afternoon and see clouds merging and pulling apart. That’s how I think of my memories. Drifting clouds.

Some memories don’t come with clearly defined edges anymore. Undefined but still there. Mixing and merging with each other. Making one big cloud, then spreading out and pulling apart again. Some swept away but many others still there. 

Honestly, it doesn’t matter in the long scheme of things if one memory happened before the other. It’s a matter of remembering those fun times. One remembers the companionship, the laughter, an awesome crab cake sandwich, good Irish music, and the roasting of an unsuspecting Philly guy by a lovingly insulting Irish bar owner.