More on memories

As a hypnotist, I have a lot of interest in memory, how it works, how plastic it is, how powerful it is and how certain things are equally powerful in bringing memories to mind. Aside from that rather detached hypnotist interest, I have a normal human interest in (and experience with) memory. For instance…

Some of my early childhood memories involve places that looked a lot like this:

I spent a lot of time with my dad, hunting squirrels in those pine woods. To this day, I can fire a shotgun, eject the empty shell, pick it up, bring it to my nose and sniff. Faster than I can blink, I’m five years old again and walking along behind and to the right of my dad while we hunt squirrels among the pine trees. I can see the pine straw on the ground and those tall, stately pine trees that seemed to almost touch the clouds. Sometimes, I can smell the fresh piney smell. And always, I can see his face and hear his voice.

Memories sometimes make our realizations stronger. Long ago, I realized that my dad was (and is) my hero and my model of what it means to be a father, a husband, a Christian and a man. Since those early years, I’ve hunted and fished in a lot of places. I’ve seen a lot of wild and beautiful country and had my own outdoor adventures. But here’s the deal. Almost five years ago, my hero died. And, with a nod to David Gates, who wrote a song about losing his dad, I would give everything I own just to walk along behind my father one more time. I miss you, Papa.

Here’s the song David Gates wrote and recorded with Bread. Enjoy the song. I think I’m going to go smoke a pipe and drink just a little bourbon.