Summer of '61 Revisted ...

Summer of '61 Revisted ... It seems like yesterday that I was riding my big blue bicycle to Tamblyn's Drug Store on Stafford Street. In the company of a few comrades from the burbs, I would frequent Tamblyn's for a summer milkshake or a root beer float, easily my favourite at the time. Then, there was the day I ordered a lime Coke. Now, I know that the usual Coke Cocktail is a cherry Coke, but I refused to order one of those. I'm not sure why. The cherry just seemed ... I don't know ... so red and so sweet ... so right there ... I don't know ... So, instead, I ordered a lime Coke that day, and I must admit it was heavenly. Well, today I bought some lime cordial and decided to make my own lime Coke. It was a poor imitation, I'm afraid, despite the fact that it contained enough sugar to keep the Hezbollah humming long through the darkest night of the soul. I was completely disappointed. So that got me wondering if some of our past experiences aren't all they're made out to be by that little memory publishing house in our heads. Maybe, my memory of that lime Coke, the one which I remember so fondly drinking in Tamblyn's Drug Store, is a memory thief, sort of stealing the WOW from other memories to make itself seem more important. Maybe, it wasn't the drink that was so good, but the fact that Louise Fennton (Louise, if you're reading this, I am not really referring to you, so don't call your lawyer) was sitting at the soda counter where I couldn't help but notice that she was wearing the shortest shorts I had ever seen. Maybe that spill of lime cordial topped up with Coke and ice has ripped off what really caught my eye that day, because, to be honest, the world as I knew it almost ended that summer, when Louise (again, not you Louise) swung her stool around to face me, and deliberately opened the pool at the Y like she was sure I would be wanting to go for a swim. The point is that sometimes what we remember is not always what really happened or what really piqued our interest. I mean, today I was thinking that I wanted a lime Coke to catch a little nostalgic buzz from the the summer of '61, but I was completely disappointed in the experience. Something tells me that there is no such thing as a singular and simple memory. I suspect all of our memories are all twisted and entwined with one another to the extent that I may have confused one memory with another. Oh, it's all so mixed up ... I wonder if I should have gone for the cherry Coke after all ... Copyright © Kennedy James, 2009. All rights reserved.