A blog about my photos, my artwork, quotations, ideas, collections, passions, England, authors, handwork of all kinds, rusty bits, buffalo, and architectural detail...for starters. And the occasional rant.

Friday, October 15, 2010

I Can’t Help Myself, I’m Nostalgic

My rubber ducky circa 1950 and a bottle from my 1986 England trip

This morning, I was reading a cartoon (Cow and Boy) that started with Boy saying “I tend to live in the past. I can’t help myself, I’m nostalgic.”

I have, over the years, used a lot of different words to describe the non-physical me:  procrastinator, creative, verbal, collector, common-sense, organized, and a great many more that are less flattering.  Now I think I must add nostalgic to that list.

Much like I discovered at the age of 50 that I had been “a bit” dyslexic when I was a child (Mom didn’t seem to think I had any need to know, and in retrospect, she may have been right – no opportunity for excuses or self-pity), I suddenly realize that being nostalgic explains a whole lot about my character…and my whole life for that matter.

I have bored countless friends and fellow employees over the years with stories about my ex, my mother, my college years, and my travels.  I cannot part with anything that belonged to any of my ancestors, and that includes that hideous cup one of my great-uncles gave to my grandmother.  I reread my favorite books about every ten years.  I have much-perused photo albums and journals from every trip I have ever taken.  I’m nostalgic.

For the scientifically inclined, this appears to be a genetic trait.  My daughter still has every note that she was passed in all her school years.

***In case you are curious:
            Boy: “Heck, I was still wearing diapers when I was five.”
            Cow: “Cuz you were nostalgic?”
            Boy: “Well, maybe that was more cuz I was lazy.”

No comments:

Post a Comment