Old Tunes open the gateways of memories

                                    “Oldies” open up the gateways of memory

         Every once in a while, an old tune from yesteryear will reach out and grab my consciousness. A memorable oldie, by Marmalade, caught my attention the other day.

                    The changing of sunlight to moonlight
                    Reflections of my life
                    Oh how they fill my eyes

        Soulfully trilled out to me in that semi-sad dirge from another era. Like all music, the synaptic relays were triggered and an avalanche of memories, associated with that era, spilled into the now for me, warming me immeasurably with pleasant thoughts of people and places from far away and long ago.

                  I can even now picture the happy and unlined faces of many school and neighborhood friends from a less complicated era. I am wearing rose colored glasses, you comment? Perhaps. But, I find the memories pleasant ones to have, like a warm bonfire on a chilly Fall evening. Maybe the elaborate processes of the mind screen out unpleasant memories from long ago and softens the edges on some of the tougher times in our life’s journey. That is as it should be. Who wants to relive an unpleasant event over and over again, like a twisted version of the movie “Groundhog’s Day?”

          As the Marmalade song trills of “changing from sunlight to moonlight,” so too do we think of the finite numbers of our days left here on this mortal coil. And those thoughts indeed do “fill my eyes.” It seems like a very long time ago that we started out as little rascals running free through the parks and streets of our little urban village of South Buffalo, New York. Still, as Dylan Thomas suggested we should “rage against the dying of the light.”

         “Carpe diem,” and a dozen other trite clichés come to mind. All are meant to help keep us in there, pitching in the game of life, struggling against gradually failing bodies and slowly clouding minds. I like to think we all have a few more good innings left in us.

         So, listen well and enjoy the odd melodic memory from yester year, when it drifts by your ear. It can be a trigger to a gateway of things not remembered for many decades. And sitting by that warming fire, on a cold Fall evening, and remembering pleasant people and events, now far away, is a great way to spend a few hours.

          “Happy Trails to y’all,” as Roy and Dale Rogers used to sing, ”until we meet again.”

                                             -30-

                                    (419 words)

                                Joseph Xavier Martin