The Carousel of Time

Lately, my mind has been stuck on the concept of time but not in a schmaltzy, melancholic way. I am not sitting around the house bemoaning the passing of time or, like a pessimistic oracle, running around warning others that the end is near. Rather, I have been enjoying moments of pure amazement, much like I experience awe when I learn of an astounding new technology or scientific discovery.

I have become filled with wonder by the alchemy that happens when time and shared memory collide. For example, I recently had the chance to spend a few hours catching up with a cousin. I hadn't seen him since he was a young boy and, although we spent decades apart, our conversation felt familiar. In truth, it felt a bit like time travel. He grew up in a small town in Oregon and, when I was young, we visited every Fall. I have wonderful memories of sitting quietly on a hillside in the woods waiting for the deer to come near or to pass me as they made their way to the grassy schoolyard. I also have terrible memories of that schoolyard, specifically of the old wooden teeter-totter of death and the ultra-hot metal slide that sizzled in summer

As I shared those memories, he shared his own and suddenly there was a glorious connection that brought both of our recollections to life. He did not share my love of the deer but spoke of his own memories of the hilly woods. He remembered the old schoolyard, thankfully upgraded for safety since my last visit. As he spoke, my own memories suddenly expanded into technicolor. I could smell the leaves, and I could feel the burn of the slide on the back of my legs. I could feel my sweaty palms as I held tight to the teeter-totter trying to avoid being catapulted into outer space by my older brother. Something about the overlap of our long-held memories created new magic, like a chemical reaction.

I have also been a bit preoccupied lately by the expanse of time. Recent political events have kept us all on the edge of our seats and, as I considered how best to navigate the days to come, the wisdom of my father came to mind. In the 96 years he spent on this earth, he saw an astonishing amount of change. He lived through the Depression, served in two wars and witnessed seismic societal transformation. What would my dad say about current events? He would likely pull on his own experience of time and remind me that everything changes every 4 years and generally, everything manages to settle in peace. Magically, his experience of time and collected memories transform my experience of the present. It really feels a bit like wizardry.

This new meditation on time and memory was prompted by a glorious new memory, made with a friend that I met in kindergarten (not a typo...we met nearly sixty years ago). Jeannine and I spent our childhood sharing a love of music and crushes on teenage heartthrobs. Her father took us to our first concert (The Osmonds) and we spent long hours around the record player. It's a lovely gift to still have her in my life and we still share a love of music and an embarrassing tendency to weep openly when the music hits a soft spot.

Recently, we spent an evening at the Hollywood Bowl enjoying a night under the stars with Joni Mitchell and the Joni Jam Band. I have loved Joni's music since I was a young girl. When the concert was announced, I knew that it may be my only chance to see her live and I made a committed effort to snag four precious tickets.

The concert was a glorious example of the power of time and memory. Joni's lyrics capture the themes and feelings of her own memories but also capture the epic span of her career. The night was full of moments that connected the more than 17,500 strangers in attendance, each likely feeling the power that comes with musical memories. When the concert paused for intermission and the lights came up, we turned to see a sea of weeping humans overwhelmed with emotion. The most powerful moment for me occurred during the last song of the night as an LA choir were on their feet singing along to The Circle Game. Like our fellow concert goers, we lifted our voices and tried not to ugly cry. At one point during the song, Jeannine tapped my shoulder and reminded me of the many times we had sat around her record player as girls and sung that same song with Joni. The astonishing power of time hit me hard.

How magical it is that, after nearly sixty years, we were again singing together with Joni? What are the odds of it? What a blessing to be reminded of the gift of the present and the treasure of the past. Time is indeed circular, and memories are the magical components that illustrate and connect.

(Crap...I ended up sounding schmaltzy after all. My bad.)