As a boy I knew none of this. In the summer we went to the beach, Atlantic City, and stayed with my maternal grandparents: my mother, cousins, aunts, and I. Across the bright flatlands and bridges, the earth of the roadside losing its color, we drove, children in a separate compartment, the rumble seat, in back, hair blowing, arms waving in happiness. There was sea smell in the air and sun in the bedroom windows. The rhythm of life was set by adults but the carefree joys were ours.
We played all day in the sand, down where it was smoothest, the green sea hissing at our feet. Not far offshore was the black wreckage of a small coastal steamer. We were unable to go near it but it is stuck there in memory, the sea swelling over it and then pouring away, the water dropping in sheets from its sides…The taste of early things lives on.
In my mouth I feel the freshness of farm tomatoes and salt, the scrambled eggs my grandmother made, the unexpected gulps of sea. In my heart there remains childish love for those cousins, whom I saw only seldom and who later drifted away entirely.
~ James Salter, Burning the Days: Recollection
Live & Learn 
Pristine and serene! Great post! Do check out my latest blog too here >> bit.ly/1NVcxLC
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Hi Amreen. Thanks. Your link points me to a post from April 2015. Is this what you intended?
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Hey! Yea, promoting my blog posts which needed much attention. Hope you like it 🙂
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Lovely pal. The joy of recollection is palpable and I love the power of the olfactory memory. If I close my eyes and concentrate, I can conjure the smell of freshly mown hay and the warm sweet steam rising off the horses’ backs at my grandparents’ farm…
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Yes, I can smell that hay too Lori. Thanks for taking me back.
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Oh, those “unexpected gulps of sea”. ☺
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He so captures it…
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i love this sensory memory piece. i can imagine it –
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Yes…
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Some of those wonderful childhood memories stay with us forever. I think what makes them so beautiful is that, at the time, we didn’t have all the worries (about the economy, climate change, wars) that would come later in our lives. Children still have the luxury of enjoying life for all its precious moments “in the moment.” Must strive for that more often as adults.
Have a very happy new year, David.
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So true Anneli. Happy New Year to you and your family.
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“the taste of early things lives on….”–hopefully forever
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Yes. That’s the line. Right there.
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Dear David
I think that you deserve a little of my time with a personal email. I am so glad I found your blog and you; I have found both to be constant forms of inspiration. Both what you choose to show us from others and your personal blogging articles are treats–and as you know you have been the inspiration of several of my newspaper columns this year.
I think we share a certain comraderie because you are a Canadian but it is much deeper than that. I thank you for your blog friendship and look forward to another year of your offerings. Happy New Year David, and I wish you and yours the best in 2016. – LouAnn
________________________________
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Wow LouAnn. Thank you. You made my day. I so appreciate your kind words and thoughts and that you took the time to share them with me. I value our friendship. Happy Holidays to you and your family.
Dave
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That “childish love” for the cousins I rarely saw lives in me, too. Instant connection when we see each other–usually at funerals.
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Sad!
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He triggers wonderful childhood memories in us all. 🙂
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He does beautifully…
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Love that last paragraph… such a feast of childhood memories for me too!
So nice to reflect on beach time as well her in this hemisphere 💛
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It is Val. Wonderful imagery.
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Reblogged this on sherriemiranda1 and commented:
I am posting this now as we will be gone a few days. I know I can reblog from my phone but writing long comments from the phone is not an easy task. So here goes:
My nostalgia is for creeks, mountains and the original “ice chest,” made out of very good, hard wood (probably oak). Although these ice chests were outside to be used for play, it was a reminder of days gone by, days before electricity. I can’t help but wonder though, where they got the ice for those chests. Did they have special trucks that were driven where the weather was cold during our summer?
The nastiest things I remember is the outhouse. My great grandmother had one, for the campers and for us kids so we wouldn’t track in dirt. My dad’s mom had one because my dad built one for my grandmother while her house was being rebuilt after it was lost in a fire. Shortly after that, my parents started having us four stair-step kids, with the youngest to come a few years later.
In both homes, there was a pot under our bed to use at night. And there would be “hell to pay” if we forgot to empty it out in the morning.
During the day, we climbed mountains, waded in the creek, picked wild strawberries and blackberries, and looked for deer. Occasionally a bear would appear and wherever we were, we would be stuck there for the next few hours. Because of this, my great grandma always burned her trash as soon as she took it out, or as soon as we took it out for her.
She taught my brothers to burn trash, but boy were they in trouble when they were caught burning trash and playing near the burn barrels back home.
Memories live on. We aren’t supposed to remember the bad times, but many of us writers thrive on those “negative memories.” They will live on in our writing though the names have been changed to protect the innocent. AND the guilty!
Peace, love & nostalgia for all,
Sherrie
Sherrie Miranda’s historically based, coming of age, Adventure novel “Secrets & Lies in El Salvador” is about an American girl in war-torn El Salvador:
http://tinyurl.com/klxbt4y
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