How creating memories helped me find our good American soul. {Poem}

My friend was an expert Memory Maker. It was a conscious effort. Nothing stopped her from creating special moments for friends and family. Whether it was a celebration in a mystical forest, travel to a far off land, or welcoming someone into her home, she was compelled to leave an imprint on your heart.

Memories can sometimes be a salve for those left behind.  It’s been just under seven years since my dear friend took her final breath, but the memories of our time together left vivid pictures in my mind.   

“Memories are special moments that tell our story”
source unknown

A brave adventurer, my friend left her American small-town for a fulfilling life in the Bavarian countryside.  I often reflect on our European explorations. She immersed me in culture. We visited working farms and local schools, skied the Alps, and toured ancient cities that made my eyes well up from the beauty.

As one who exploited time, she embraced the European style of vacationing with gusto. Taking month-long breaks to visit friends and family back home in the U.S. Every couple of years she would call me to say, “Julie, I’m bringing my family (two kids and her significant other) to visit and we’ll be there for two weeks.”   

Of course, with my American I-only-get-two-week-vacations-every-year trained brain, I would immediately stress, how will I do this while working? Where will they sleep?  What will my husband say?

All these stressful thoughts dissipated once she arrived.  A Memory Maker in action, she was in her element whenever she came to my home in California.  Creating magic in my kitchen. Taking our family on day trips around San Francisco. Or simple family time enjoying our home.  Every moment was appreciated and magical.

These memories sit close.  And even now, years after her departure, she still brings experiences that brand my heart.  Just this summer I got the chance to visit her children and family in her hometown near Cincinnati, Ohio.  A river community on the border of Ohio and Kentucky.

While there I learned that she descends from a family of Memory Makers—my personal description for people who practice mindful rituals, who slow down to connect, who build community, and who purposely create special moments for loved ones.

My time in her hometown filled my heart.  I was there only four days, but I fully experienced her life through the lens of her family and town.

I saw the impact of a community hit hard by the Great Recession and the changing dynamics of coal-based energy consumption.  Downtown businesses that once relied on a thriving energy plant were striving to achieve despite the loss of their economic foundation.

And still there was magic in this mystical village hidden on the side of the Ohio River.  An escape from our distracted world where nature is loud but calm. This is where my friend revealed her mystical memory making.

We gathered in a neighbor’s eclectic garage—a makeshift speakeasy, to sing our collective American songs of Jimmy Buffett, Elvis and more.  

We laid on the river docks staring at billions of bright stars unpolluted by city lights—the sky so clear the Milky Way reflects itself in the expansive Ohio River.  

We feasted on all the American classics next to a white steepled church in a sprawling green field with all the standard fare of twice-baked potatoes, fried chicken, deviled eggs, and breadcrumb crusted mac and cheese.

In a time of deep divisions, these experiences reminded me of our strong American culture.  A community of magical neighbors, wild family dynamics, and communal storytelling.

All of it American.  All of it shared. A knowing of who we are.

These experiences seem important now—especially with the polarization of our American way of life.   Of course, we still had different opinions and politics but all that strips away when creating good memories with those who share a common love.

I am lucky.  This California girl witnessed the good American soul deep in the heart of our land at the base of Appalachia.  In coal country where the American heart beats. Where I found common ground and a love for our heritage that no one can pull apart.  

My dear friend, The Memory Maker, made sure I witnessed this.  To remember what is good with our American soul.

This is my dedication to her and to all our American Memory Makers.

{POEM}

Mystical Memory Maker

Imprints of textile moments immortalized
She weaves memories because we are alive!

Time ticking through veins
She is focused
Her time short

She is of the heartland

Where compass corners meld into one
and pink skies reflect on mirrored waters.

Where Appalachia descends into the River, Ohio
and fireflies flirt with frogs ‘ribbiting’ their calls.

Where cicadas vibrate frictionless wings
and a creamy cloud spills on a star encrusted sky.

A mystical training ground
of northern grit and southern hospitality

She is American
Her loom is a forest, a bountiful harvest, a human delight

Taming fear
She slays dragons

Following passions
Conquering cultures
Loving children

She dances with forest fairies
And revels in Bavarian delights

She wrapped me in her memory tapestry
Weaved into the timeless fabric of space and time

Still now she schemes her mystical memories
behind an impenetrable veil

Her immortalized recording
remember your American soul
live and weave your memories.

Related article:  5 ways to make forever memories with loved ones

Julie Pacheco Greene, Elephant Apprentice

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