Partial Recall

Not that long ago at institute, a guest speaker taught us about a concept called memory triggers, or anchors. These are sights, sounds, tastes, smells, and moments of touch that, in turn, trigger memories of similar occurrences

My own anchors are many.

Patrick Swayze's "She's like the Wind" carries me to our basement on Shari Circle, where we had this newfangled device called a Nintendo and played several hours of Kid Icarus, Metroid, Rygar, and more while that song, among many others from the Dirty Dancing soundtrack et al, played in the background on a radio. I hear Whitney Houston's "How Will I Know?", and I'm transported back to the roller rink at Classic Skating, where I spent many summer Saturday afternoons between the fourth and sixth grades. Johnny Hates Jazz's "Shattered Dreams" plays, and I'm in my family's van, on our way to another day at the beach in sunny Puerto Rico.

By themselves, these are not particularly meaningful songs per se, but they are attached to key points of my formative years.

There's a particular smell of gas that takes me back to my first days in Peru, walking along the cobbled streets in the city of Cusco, because it is identical to that used by the stove my pensionista cooked my meals on. I don't know what this particular smell is due to, I know it well when I sense it. It's almost like deja vu, it's so surreal.

The smell of coffee actually usually reminds me only of airports. Growing up in Bountiful, Utah, of course, you don't smell coffee that much, but I have always smelled it whenever I travel by air, and memories of airports on three continents crop up with a single whiff.

The taste of an afternoon tea or breakfast at my Aunty Mary's home in England? There's nothing to compare to either one.

To be sure, there are, naturally, also memory triggers or anchors that bring back negative emotions or recollections. You take the good, you take the bad; you take them both, I guess. (Insert memory of reruns on TV here.)

The mind, along with its cache of memories, is an amazing instrument. Its recall is incredible sometimes.

Just a random thought to close: Someday, many years from now, someplace beyond this mortal coil, or perhaps not that far from it at all, will we watch a movie of our lives, and every moment will come flooding back? Or will we will listen to a song, smell a familiar smell, or taste a beloved treat, and it will instead all come back to us fully, rather than partially, as it does now?