The Memory Worm.

Long term memory, it's often said, that the brain holds longer than all else. What story, reminisce or cherished memory has the worm embedded in your brain? Be it a story, event or just a piece of music, don't be shy, share it with us.
My brother's daughter, my niece, was impressed when she visited her Granddad, and discovered that he kept a dictionary beside him, to which he referred to whenever a word baffled him. She was mightily impressed when her uncle, her Grandfather's son, without knowing his Dad's habit, did the same.
I remember books, music and school lessons from the 1950's but I can't remember what I had for dinner any day last week. But every now and then something prompts a reminisce and takes me back, over the decades, to a time when gentlemen where just that and ladies were revered. When it was common for a motorist to let you out of the junction and when a fellow commuter, would actually smile at you instead of of looking blandly out of the carriage window.
One enduring memory, and I will admit others, if you all join in, is this rather attractive, but stroppy 16 year old, whom my dance teacher thought would make a great partner for me. She was certainly attractive, but so assertive, so confident and so commanding that my first thoughts were: "Stroppy bitch." But we did attract, and she knew that it was the man who led, but only on the dance floor. We married a year later. And she's still that same, beautiful attractive woman, the same confident, assertive person and still has that same air of arrogance. Do I still love her? Like a moth to the flame.

GHT said:

One enduring memory, and I will admit others, if you all join in, is this rather attractive, but stroppy 16 year old, whom my dance teacher thought would make a great partner for me. She was certainly attractive, but so assertive, so confident and so commanding that my first thoughts were: "Stroppy bitch." But we did attract, and she knew that it was the man who led, but only on the dance floor. We married a year later. And she's still that same, beautiful attractive woman, the same confident, assertive person and still has that same air of arrogance. Do I still love her? Like a moth to the flame.

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A lovely memory.
An Irish bachelor; who declined a beautiful woman's proposal at a bad time (Vietnam War) and she has remained a fixture in youth and maturity's sometimes cruel reminiscence.

"It's sad but its sweet and I knew it complete, when I wore a younger man's clothes."

The other day I was musing about the 17 year old me who was Eurail traveling across Europe in a far distant decade. A young thing named Dianne from Connecticut latched on to me because her parents said she couldn't set foot in Italy without a proper escort. I --being young and totally naive-- said "no problem, feel free to come with me." Next thing I knew we were taking long hauls on the train and she was sleeping with her head on my shoulder. In Montegenerosso, she got us an upgrade in the youth hostel by lying and saying we were married (!!!). I was too young and green to decode any of the hints. When we hit France, she flew off to meet her mother in Paris. A couple of months later I got a letter from her (this was before the internet) saying what an idiot I had been ...in the nicest of terms, of course.

It goes without saying that there is no going back and I'm indeed lucky in how it all worked out: Mrs Tiki is the greatest blessing of my life, truly. Yet I suppose it's only natural to sometimes reflect on the events of the past and ---no regrets!--- be haunted by things that, given a little tweaking, could almost be turned into a half ways decent romantic short story. Yes, memory worms, indeed.

Tiki Tom said:

It goes without saying that there is no going back and I'm indeed lucky in how it all worked out: Mrs Tiki is the greatest blessing of my life, truly. Yet I suppose it's only natural to sometimes reflect on the events of the past and ---no regrets!--- be haunted by things that, given a little tweaking, could almost be turned into a half ways decent romantic short story. Yes, memory worms, indeed.

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You are right not to go back, we all change, yet those that we remember we expect to be unchanged, this hasn't stopped some, with the advent of social media, looking up their first love. Stupid idea, it wrecks relationships and gold plates divorce lawyer's pensions.

My last summer in high school, I worked for a month doing a complete inventory overhaul at a Linen store (Linens 'n Things) with a few other kids - one who was a couple-years-older college girl. The work was off the books (I doubt much of that goes on now in the same way) where we spent 10+ hours a day in an inventory warehouse engaged in very boring work - counting, folding, moving, stocking, labeling, etc.

There wasn't a ton of time for interaction ($5 an hour in the late '70s - cash - kept us motivated and the manager had high expectations), but there were a few breaks and before work and end of day chit chat. I develop a friendship with the college girl - and was young enough and naive enough to believe that's all it was - to me she was an older college girl, not only out of my league, but out of my fantasy league.

My memory today is that I really didn't think about her in a romantic way, she was just a friend, but I was aware that she was a quite cute friend, but again, way out of my league. The last day of work we finished up and were saying good bye when she asked me to walk her to her car where she gave me a not-platonic kiss on the mouth and said she was sorry I never expressed any interest in her the past month. With that, she wished me luck, got in her car and drove away.

At the time, when I finally re-entered earth's atmosphere, I remember thinking I missed the greatest opportunity in the world. With the benefit of time and hindsight, I wonder if she wasn't just playing with me on the last day to have some fun. I'll never know, but several times a year, the memory of her, that silly month of work and that kiss come pinging back into my head and the moment feels very much alive, even now, 35 years later.

Edit Add: I never made the point that prompted the above post which was prompted by this thread. Despite having had several much-more-meaningful relationships after the above referenced not-relationship, that kiss at the car comes back to me more often and with more vibrancy than many of those other more meaningful relationships. Our memories are funny things.

The way our memory works fascinates me. There are foods, songs, books, what have you that can teleport me back to a moment in my life as if it happened only yesterday. Some pleasant, others not so much. And then, on the other hand, the person I was and the world I lived in just some 6 years ago seems more like another lifetime, and as if it belonged to another person entirely.

Ah, the smell of turkey cooking at Thanksgiving takes me vividly back to the big family gatherings while growing up.
The memories of Tiki Tom and Fading Fast call to mind the short bittersweet monologue of Everett Sloan as Mr. Bernstein in Citizen Kane, about the young lady he had glimpsed in his youth.

I'm only twenty-eight years old but my memory seems to be going, haha. There will be memories that I long thought were forgotten but something, maybe a scent or particular phrase that I'll hear that will bring back something I hadn't thought of in years.

I distinctly remember Christmas Eves at my grandmother's house. My parents and I would show up after church in the evening to an aroma of various Italian dishes. Upon walking into the living room, the scent of a pungent incense coming from a tiny log cabin that burned on the mantle. My great grandfather would be sitting in his beat up brown recliner, teasing me with his toupee. As a child, I was horrified of it for some reason.

I can still taste the ziti, the meatballs, and some kind of shrimp dish whose name continues to elude me. I miss those years and the sense of togetherness my family had.

Although many of my memories - good and not so good - involved alcohol (I do have memories), the one I go back to and take pleasure in on cold nights when my spirits are down is smelt fishing on opening day (April 1st) on the Chicago lakefront. My best friend, a little brandy, frozen wet hands, a grill, streetlights, and a few fish. The friend and the shared pain with other fishermen out before the "run" started is surprisingly pleasant. I was in a good place back then.


(Borrowed pic, but this is how it was)