Beyond the South End

Unforgettable

There is a show on TV right now starring Poppy Montgomery called “Unforgettable.” She plays a cop who has total recall. I also remember this song, “Unforgettable,” by Nat King Cole that was later done as a duet with his daughter after his death through the miracle of modern recording devices.

Mary Lou Henner, of “Taxi” fame, the old TV show, has total recall in real life. That means that given any day in the history of her life, she can recall every detail of what she was doing that day; with whom she interacted etc. Supposedly, only 125 people in the whole world have what is called “total recall.”

I’m not sure I would be happy with this “gift.” Having such a memory would mean you would remember every detail of all the bad things that have happened in your life, as well as the good things. I still have my memories of the flood of almost three years ago, especially the sewer smell in the house and the never-ending rain. I still occasionally have nightmares about it. The sooner those memories fade into the past, the better I’ll like it.

Think about the memories you have of your childhood. Many of them are connected to the senses; like the smells of your mother’s cooking; the smell of seaweed and salt air; the vision of sea smoke or fog as it comes in from the sea and distorts the view around you.

Any kid who grew up along the coast of Maine has these memories of living by the Atlantic Ocean. Kids from Alaska know many different names for snow. Kids in California have many names for the wind. Kids along the coast of Maine have many names for the water and for waves. We "coastal" people have a collective memory of the sights, sounds, and tastes associated with the Atlantic Ocean.

We knew when an incoming wave would be a gentle one which we could jump over as it came to shore. We knew that another wave coming in might splash all over us as we sat on a rock by the water. “Choppy water” wasn’t a good condition in which to take the rowboat out. “Rough water” was mostly experienced in “open water” or water where no land is visible. You might get rough water on a ferry ride over to the islands. You could see some seals sunning themselves on a small island or see osprey nests, but otherwise, it was just “open water.”

“Mild as a millpond” referred to water that appeared like glass, usually in the evening. That kind of water was good for a moonlight cruise perhaps.

Those of us who moved away in our young adult years hold these memories of the water close to our hearts, especially if we live away from any kind of water source. It’s the reason we return home as often as we can. The water draws us home again in our retirement years. It’s also why some of us can’t bear to leave it at all, which perpetuates so many family names in our area.

As we grow older, those memories of family members who have passed on grow dimmer. We desperately try to remember what their laugh sounded like; how they talked and moved about the earth.

One day we look in the mirror and the memories flood back as we see our mother or father staring back at us. The older I get, the more I look like the old pictures I have of my mother. For a time in my life, I looked like my father’s family. In the end, I guess I carried on traits from both sides.

Once in a while, though, I laugh at something and I can hear the echo of my mother’s laugh. I also have discovered I cough the same way.  My sister and I also sound like her on the telephone. I often got confused by my mother’s friends when I came home to visit. If I hadn’t stopped them I may have found out some real juicy gossip I suppose. Funny how those memories stick with you.

When the family got together for one last picnic down at the cottage in Spruce Head before my folks gave possession of the place over to the new owners, my brother-in-law took some film of the event. I have a copy of it. As I watched it the last time I see my mother walking across the porch. A few minutes later, I walked across the porch, with the same gait that she had! Later on, when I talked to my sister about that quirk I thought was unique to my mother and me, she said, “We all walk that way.”

I suppose if our mothers teach us to walk by watching how they do it, that we naturally would walk the same way. I don’t know if this phenomena is unique to just my family or not, but our memories are made from close association with our mothers for the first few years of our life. It may be possible that their traits will also become part of our makeup.


Many times when I meet people for the first time they will stare at me for the longest time and try to place me in their personal history. They ask me if I was ever in a particular place or took part in some activity with them. I used to try to help them out but soon discovered that it was useless. I simply tell them now that I have "a familiar face."

“Memories are made of this” as the song goes. Recollections are not always remembered the same way by two people who experienced the same event. Rather than having the trait or “gift” of total recall, perhaps how we remember something means that’s how we should remember it. Warm memories will last our lifetime. Bad memories we hope will fade with time. I think I prefer it that way. I wish you only happy memories.

Thanks for listening.