yeah I know you did not ask!
As we go through life we develop triggers that bring back memories. I have no way of enumerating mine, but I suspect I have 100s if not thousands of the little beggars. Right now I am thinking of two of mine that have been persistent over many years. One is sweet, and the other, perhaps, a little weird.
Between my stint at the University of Rhode Island and finishing up college at the University of Central Oklahoma I took a bunch of night classes at Connors Junior College with the goal of getting back to a four year institution. I did not know much back then, but I did know that I did not want to spend the rest of life working in factories and warehouses at rates only slightly better than minimum wage.
Whether it is still a requirement in Oklahoma I do not know, but at this time it was mandatory for all college students to have taken a Civics course before graduation. The person teaching this course at Connors was a history professor named Ms. Rimmer. She was a short, dumpy, severe old maid. If she had taught lower grades at a different time she would have roamed her classroom with a well used ruler in her hand. She did have the habit of roaming the class during her exams, which were always essays. The incident I remember was during a test that included the topic of separation of powers in our government. I was busily scribbling away, attempting to fill my blue essay book with as much BS as possible, when I felt a presence behind me. I then heard her say in voice that was heard all throughout the classroom, “Mr. Rush… Mr. Rush, separation is with an ‘a’, not with an ‘e’.” I had spelled it ‘seperation’. Almost without fail when I write or type the word ‘separation’ I think of Ms. Rimmer. With the passage of time I find it to be a sweet memory.
The second trigger involves cleaning. With the shelter at home orders in effect here in the St. Louis metro area the lady that normally gives our house a good cleaning every couple weeks is not coming. She is an older lady, and does not do a lot of houses. I believe she likes coming here as the house is never that dirty. Robin is a good housekeeper, even to the point of driving me a bit nutso with it at times. However, she is not fond of cleaning our three bathrooms. Who is? I do not mind, but sometimes it takes several “suggestions” to get me onto the chore. Once I get started I am fine. I even like it a bit as it is one of those tasks that when you are done, and looking at a sparkling bathroom, gives you a sense of a small accomplishment.
I was cleaning the toilet this morning when I began to think of my mother. She was the only female in a house of seven people. She rightly thought that she should not have to do all the chores. She certainly considered us boys more than capable of cleaning our single bathroom. With five sons and a husband she was VERY particular on how the toilet was cleaned. If you did not do it to her rigid specifications you were back in there again. It is almost a given when I am doing a good cleaning of the bathroom and get to the toilet bowl I begin to think of my mother. I find this a bit weird. I’m not sure how she would feel about this if she knew, but it would not be out of character if she felt some sense of pride that she had driven at least one lesson into me.
In the process of writing this I began to think of many other triggers, but this is enough for now. Life and memories are such peculiar things.