Episode 64.

Brewster Book Store. Summer, 1986.
The heavy glass door opened with the familiar clang of a cow bell, hanging from a worn red ribbon. I crossed the threshold to the whine of creaky floor boards under my flip-flopped feet. The sun-warmed room was home to mazes of shelves and a distinct sweet, musky aroma, melding briny sea air, the organic scent of new unopened books, and a subtle hint of vanilla. My senses were immediately stimulated, serving to quicken my fervent pace toward the back right corner of the overcrowded store, where I was met with a dozing elderly Golden Retriever, not bothering to lift her sun-drenched nose from the bare floor.

I was not browsing on this day and I scanned the shelves with purpose for the second book in a series that had been on my mind since I finished book 1 in the backseat of our Buick Century station wagon on the mile drive to the store. I narrowed my focus on the Cam Jansen series, lining a middle shelf with crisp paperback bindings, ready for the taking. I was captivated by the main character, Cam, who had a photographic memory and solved neighborhood crimes by taking mental pictures, stating the word, "CLICK" to solidify and store the memory. Little did I know that 34 years later, I would still be saying "CLICK" out loud when something memorable or sentimental crossed my path.

Cam Jansen had inspired our family to adopt the notion of "CLICK", decades before the availability of taking an actual photo was at the fingertips of just about every American. My mom had started it just days after I finished the second book, yelling out "CLICK" as Lindsey and I jumped off the dock at Long Pond or cracked lobsters on the back deck of the cape house. Throughout the years, we would exclaim "CLICK" at a fun family wedding or Disney vacation; gazing up at a very starry sky or peering down from a dangling ski lift. "CLICK" became a household vocabulary term, but as I grew up, it was mostly whispered softly to myself, at my college graduation, on a wine-tasting vacation with my mom, or holding my newborn niece for the first time.

Memory. It is ours. It is all we have left of our past. A storehouse of snips of life. And not just remembrances of the past, but projections onto our present and our future. A driving force in our daily life. Sometimes slack and shifty, displaced and inaccessible, but perhaps still taking residence in our tissues; an undercurrent of subconscious being, wrapped and stored, either deliberately or unintentionally. And sometimes engrained deeply, not only in our mind, but in every cell of our body; interwoven into our very being.

Can we exist without memory? Not well. Beyond the sentimental value of memory, there is daily function...tying our shoes, logging onto our computer, navigating through our town, recognizing our home, greeting our spouse... and serving as protection from harm...turning off the stove, stopping at the curb for traffic, bonding with a loving partner...

We are capturing pieces of each experience all day, every day...slices of life, highlights on a reel, devoured and illuminated; categorized and stored. Today, we use those extensions of our hands- our phones. We take pictures to take memories. And it does feel more like taking, snapping, snatching - rather than holding, massaging, enveloping...

Memories.
Poignant. Fierce. Moving. Touching. Deep. Lasting. Cherished. Heartfelt. Joyful.

Memories.
"CLICK". We remember. We collect memories and we journey through our days among the backdrop of these moments. Some end up being the hinge upon which our life swings. We cannot always control our memories. Sometimes we try to recall those specific moments, to no avail. And sometimes they come rushing back, unannounced, with a passing aroma or background song, we are left to grip each one like the rung of a listing ladder.

Do we take our memory for granted? Do we take things and people and events for granted because we have memory? We take a picture with our phone and expect that we now have that moment- to last as permanent. In our storing of memories, do we forget to feel? Do we limit our "CLICK" moments to the demise of the picture-taking-capture?

I know I have been stopping to say "CLICK" a lot more over the past few years. Noticing. Feeling. Touching. Seeing. Being. That 5-letter word reminds me to BE as I lay down the memories in my mind, my heart, my every cell. "CLICK" is my foundation. It is a place of comfort in constructing and reconstructing all the experiences, views, interactions, feelings, pursuits, conversations, embraces ...moments without words...words without explanation...

I cherish the "CLICKS" in my days... and wish you many moments to make memories with a simple and worthy "CLICK".

Love and Beyond, Jessica

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“"Take care of all your memories. For you cannot relive them." - Bob Dylan

"Your memory is the glue that binds your life together, everything you are today is because of your amazing memory." – Kevin Horsley

“Memory is the diary that we all carry about with us.” -Oscar Wilde

“Memories, important yesterdays, were once todays. Treasure and notice today.” – Gloria Gaither


Do it all with Love. Nothing is promised. But everything is workable. 

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