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Certain light can transport me like a time machine. I know that memory can more often be triggered by scent, because of the neighborhood proximity in the brain of memory and sense of smell. But for me it happens when a certain kind of light hits me, and my memory film starts to run in a very detailed and visually graphic way. No foggy or blue smoke memories. These are vivid and powerful.This early bright white spring light that we have now is transporting me back in time. Yesterday the light took me to Etta Asbury. To her farm, her body, her well worn clothes, household interior, her hair, her voice, her kindness. I never knew her young, only aged, and spry and funny and smart, damn she was smart. When she laughed she threw her head back and let it out like a bell ringing...then she would drop her head just forward enough to make perfect eye contact to end the joke and get serious again. Etta had been in the women's suffrage movement in Canada, she was the treasurer. She was a complex and independent woman. A widow, she kept her small farm solvent. Raspberries arbors lined on of the fields. She sold raspberries in little quart and pint boxes she left on a little table, with a box for money. Honor system. Etta liked telling stories and I liked listening. Etta was a good cook, and I loved watching her cook. Etta welcomed my constant presence. My mother shunned it. Being with Etta was a treat. She adored my father and respected my mother. I loved her like a grandmother. Etta changed the storms on her farm house windows herself, every spring screens, every fall storms. Tough work. She was 5' tall, with long reddish whitish hair gathered in a large bun. When feeling fancy she would braid it then wrap it as a bun. Etta taught me that any woman could take care of herself and be safe and happy in the world. She was practical. She had two forms..her social go out and be social outfit involved lipstick, powdered face, braided bun and a flowered dress with thin matching belt at the waist, and a hand bag.. For work clothes she kept her husband's work clothes, and wore them till they wore out. I remember her well worn clothes and how comfortable she was wearing her dead husband's clothes. The color of the light on my own well worn work clothes made me think of Etta and the raspberries and twinkle smile. Etta died in 1977, she was 85. I loved Etta, and whenever I think of her I smile.
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Certain light can transport me like a time machine. I know that memory can more often be triggered by scent, because of the neighborhood proximity in the brain of memory and sense of smell. But for me it happens when a certain kind of light hits me, and my memory film starts to run in a very detailed and visually graphic way. No foggy or blue smoke memories. These are vivid and powerful.This early bright white spring light that we have now is transporting me back in time. Yesterday the light took me to Etta Asbury. To her farm, her body, her well worn clothes, household interior, her hair, her voice, her kindness. I never knew her young, only aged, and spry and funny and smart, damn she was smart. When she laughed she threw her head back and let it out like a bell ringing...then she would drop her head just forward enough to make perfect eye contact to end the joke and get serious again. Etta had been in the women's suffrage movement in Canada, she was the treasurer. She was a complex and independent woman. A widow, she kept her small farm solvent. Raspberries arbors lined on of the fields. She sold raspberries in little quart and pint boxes she left on a little table, with a box for money. Honor system. Etta liked telling stories and I liked listening. Etta was a good cook, and I loved watching her cook. Etta welcomed my constant presence. My mother shunned it. Being with Etta was a treat. She adored my father and respected my mother. I loved her like a grandmother. Etta changed the storms on her farm house windows herself, every spring screens, every fall storms. Tough work. She was 5' tall, with long reddish whitish hair gathered in a large bun. When feeling fancy she would braid it then wrap it as a bun. Etta taught me that any woman could take care of herself and be safe and happy in the world. She was practical. She had two forms..her social go out and be social outfit involved lipstick, powdered face, braided bun and a flowered dress with thin matching belt at the waist, and a hand bag.. For work clothes she kept her husband's work clothes, and wore them till they wore out. I remember her well worn clothes and how comfortable she was wearing her dead husband's clothes. The color of the light on my own well worn work clothes made me think of Etta and the raspberries and twinkle smile. Etta died in 1977, she was 85. I loved Etta, and whenever I think of her I smile.
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