Memory triggers

A week or so ago, a cousin of mine called, and we got to talking about all the fishing lakes up in the Sandhills where I grew up. He mentioned a lake where Mick and Marge and I went fishing while she was pregnant with Vic. Just the mention of the lake brought to mind the times I went fishing there with my Grandpa Piihl. Just to get a little perspective, that was probably in the early 1960s. Just a few years ago. Grandpa loved to fish about as much as I did, so now and then he'd get my folks to let me skip school and go fishing. Grandpa Piihl was a keeper. I loved to just sit and watch him play cards and smoke his cigar and have a brew.

Another lake my cousin mentioned was just up the road about 5 or 6 miles. Last time I fished this lake was with my Dad. Dad died back in '74 or so. Dates never were my cup of tea. Nor names. Can't remember names. For some reason, Dad and I went fishing together, and it was just the two of us. Dad always wore waders, and I usually just put on a pair of tennis shoes and waded in my Levi's. The lake wasn't very deep and was just full of cattails. We were using the regular bait that Dad always used, which was a Johnson silver spoon and a pork frog. It worked. Dad and I caught a mess of bass, with some close to 5 pounds. We had a blast. I wish I could order a redo.

Another lake was clear out in the middle of nowhere. Mom and Dad and Mick and I would drive up there and do some bank fishing. Always seemed to catch a mess of bullheads and a few bluegill. Now and then, we'd catch a walleye. Always caught a carp or two and several turtles. We had a blast. Best part was it was the time spent with Mom and Dad and Mick. Memories. Funny how different things trigger our memories. Sometimes it's the mention of a place like one of the fishing lakes up in the Sandhills.

Since I'm diabetic, we are always trying to find something that I can eat or snack on that is low in sugar. One thing I love is ice cream. Love, love, love ice cream. Love vanilla and chocolate or mixed or whatever. Love it. I got to thinking of how Mom would take Jello and make it like normal with the hot water. But instead of adding the cold water, Mom would add ice cream instead. It was kind of like Jello, but kind of like ice cream. Marge made some, and it brought back a flood of memories. Mom made it with all the sugar, while Marge used sugar-free Jello. Lowered the sugar content by at least half. Ate that a lot growing up.

I was looking through the posts on Facebook, and my kindergarten teacher posted the obituary of a gun and boat dealer from back in Ogallala, Nebraska. Never knew his first name because he was always Mr. Devoe. I'd stop in there and look google-eyed at all the guns he had for sale. I finally talked Marge into letting me buy a rifle to hunt coyotes with. So bought a Ruger .220 Swift in a model 77 Varmint. I remember the day we picked it up. I was like a kid at Christmas. Sure glad I got to know Mr. Devoe. I have a lot of memories tied to him and his store.

When we drove back to Nebraska last Fall and visited with family and friends, one of the towns we visited was Ogallala. Both our boys were born there. I picked Marge and one of them up at the hospital in a Maverick Grabber and the next one and Marge in a 1976 Ford 150 pickup. It was in Ogallala that I talked to Wes Feusner and had him build me a custom saddle. He built it just like I wanted. Just being there triggered a whole flood of memories.

Down through the years, we have acquired several old kerosene lamps. I don't have a clue if they are old or new. Bought them to provide light if the power would happen to go out. But every time I mess with the old lamps, I think back to when Uncle Berty and Aunt Johanna were lighting their whole house with lanterns. They didn't have electricity, so the only light they had was from the old lanterns. Doesn't take long before I can smell the burning kerosene smell and the kind of dim light. Loved going there with Mom and Dad to visit.

Every now and then, Marge will find some diet A&W Root Beer on sale, and she'll buy some for me. Root beer calls for a root beer float. Kind of forget I have diabetes for this indulgence. So she fills a cup with ice cream, and I add the root beer. Awesome! There was a unique taste that came from a frosty mug of ice cream and root beer. Mom and Dad and Mick and I'd go to the A&W in Ogallala and get a frosty mug of awesomeness. I kind of wish I had one right now. Memories!

Every now and then, we head to Perryville, and we pretty much always stop at Hoeckele's Bakery and Deli for some doughnuts. For both Marge and me, this brings back memories of buying doughnuts at Dillinger's Donut Shop in Hyannis, Nebraska. Or at least I think it was Dillinger's! He definitely had doughnuts. He made a kind of twisted doughnut and a kind of long john with icing and nuts on top. Man, oh, man, were they good. Funny how the sight and the smell takes us back some 60 years to a doughnut shop in the heart of Nebraska.

Memories can be made using our sight and smell and taste and hearing or just a feeling. We are built to remember and recall memories. We at times don't realize it, but our minds store memories along with all the added stuff like smell and such with it. What a gift God has given us in the form of our minds! I wonder if our lives would improve significantly if we would strive to make memories rather than just experiences or events. I've been reading the Old Testament, and it's amazing how most every event that happened to the Jews was kept alive and remembered by some regularly occurring event or a memorial like an altar or even a pile of rocks like the one they built when they crossed the Red Sea on dry ground.

Don't let the happenings in our lives these days crowd out taking the time to make a memory. A good friend and college teacher once said to always take the time to stop and smell the roses.