A friend on Facebook shared this quote last week:

“It was one of those perfect English autumnal days which occur more frequently in memory that in life”  P.D. James

How often is that true – the good old days get better with each retelling and we find ourselves yearning for the past.  We remember the friendships, the relaxed carefree days of youth.  We remember past glories and past happiness.

Yesterday, Heather and I went on a walk around Vasona Lake and up into Oak Meadows park in Los Gatos.  We walk there on occasion and have taken the grand kids there on a number of occasions.  It is a favorite place.

It is a place of memories for me.

My mother use to take me there as a child.  I have memories of being maybe five or six and playing on the jet airplane at the playground in Oak Meadows.  Yes, they have a real AIr Force jet there – a Saber Jet I think it is.  Somehow the city got a used one, stripped of all it’s parts.  It’s just the body and wings placed on top the tan bark.

It’s still there, stripped of a few more sharp edges and covered with a grey no slip deck paint.  It still attracts the little ones.  I smile every time I see it.  The old fire engine is there too.  What fun it was to play on that.

I remember coming here with friends and chasing each other by the creek.  I remember feeding the ducks and running over the grassy fields.  I remember such happy times here.  The church picnics, the family outings, riding here on my bike with the boy scout troop and buying snow cones at the snack shack.

Such fond memories.

As we walk around, I share some of these memories with Heather as a wave of nostalgia washes over me like the surf on the sand.  It rushes over my toes and fades back to the sea.  Oh, if I could just go back to those times and feel childhood and youth again.

In real life, I doubt I came here more than two or three times a year.  There was only one church outing to this place.  Our mothers scolded us for running to the creek and throwing rocks at each other.  The scout troop came just one time – for an afternoon and I recall getting a flat tire on the way home and having to walk my bike the last two miles.

Still, today, as our world spins into the dark days of winter – I’ll take the few happy memories and will warm my soul in their glow.

Till next week,

About Andrew Reynolds

Born in California Did the school thing studying electronics, computers, release engineering and literary criticism. I worked in the high tech world doing software release engineering and am now retired. Then I got prostate cancer. Now I am a blogger and work in my wood shop doing scroll saw work and marquetry.
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2 Responses to Memories

  1. All is well a long as you can still tell the difference between memories and the fantasies built up around them…


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