Today I was testing out a new boombox that we bought for the kids' room. (By the way, good God, what are we calling them now? I can't believe I can never come up with anything better than "boombox.") It has an iPod dock so I set mine to shuffle, plugged it in and let it play. Right away this song's shreddingly delicious opening solo came pealing out of the speakers and I had one of those Proustian jolts back to my past. This time: San Francisco, 1993, my old apartment. I'm smoking and watching the fog pour down into the Lower Haight.
I've been noticing as I get older that, paradoxically, these moments of pure memory are becoming clearer. I'll be, say, going over my grocery list in my head and a song, or a smell, or a sight, any of the usual triggers, presents itself and instantly I'm filled with a longing so intense that it brings tears to my eyes. It's not like this didn't happen when I was younger but lately it seems stronger and sharper, and even when the memory is a happy one, it can be just on the edge of unpleasant.
I was reading recently that "nostalgia" was once considered a disease, a kind of severe homesickness. I think this is the right word for it then. A longing for a place that only exists in your brain to where there's no hope of return. Exiled in the present, I can only turn the volume up and sing along. Okay, and play air guitar.
Oh, I know that feeling. I've always wondered how those memories rise to the surface, unbidden. Exiled in the present. Yes.
(Finding your blog was a happy accident, by way of Twitter.)
Posted by: Jennifer | November 11, 2010 at 06:05 PM
Hi, Jennifer! Thanks for this.
Posted by: LetterB | November 12, 2010 at 06:10 PM
Ahh i have a AM FM Boombox that i have also bought for my kids and truly your article reminds me of my childhood =)
Posted by: Am Fm Boombox | July 27, 2011 at 02:16 AM