Sensory Memories + Writing = Memoir
Does a trace of an aroma or a snippet of a musical chord ever overload your brain with memory of a person, place, or thing? And then does the distraction take you down an unexpected rabbit hole of remembrance? These sensory memories offer invaluable writing topics that I would love to share with you.
SMELL is arguably our strongest sense and even one tiny whiff can send us catapulting into another time and place. For me, the smell of Davidoff’s Cool Water on a passerby will flood my brain with the memories of my first college boyfriend like a fast-paced slide show. I would share the scent with you, reader, but there isn’t a scratch and sniff option in this post.
SIGHT is, for most people, the strongest sense and the one we rely on the most to understand the world. There have been times when I have driven around a corner in a new-to-me town, but then realize I’ve visited this place before, or at least another place ‘exactly’ like it. As Leroy Jethro Gibbs stated, “there is no such thing as coincidence (Rule 39),” so these occurrences could be deja vu rather than memory, but these memory illusions happen a lot.
SOUND is one of our senses that seems to diminish with age, but can invoke instant emotion. A few notes from Nat King Cole’s Autumn Leaves returns me to my godfather’s home on Lake Erie in Hamburg, NY, as the golden dusk arrives and the mist over Niagara Falls hovers on the horizon. My memories of him there span three decades.
We’re perched at the edge of an oriental rug, toasting marshmallows in the fireplace after a day of sailing, or searching for beach glass, or trolling through as many bookstores as possible–a truly poetic vignette. The double french doors stand open ushering in the lake breeze which weaves together the tinkling of the copper-sailboat windchimes and our conversation.
Our sense of TASTE, tied directly to smell, can be curated by generational recipes, home grown herbs and vegetables, and travels. Biting into my cousin Rose’s butterscotch pie is a taste of my maternal grandmother’s love.
Childhood recollections lead into memories of the years we lived with my grandparents. Some of those moments were not as sweet as pie then, but are cherished thirty years later, and provide writing ideas. Grandpa’s stories of being a cook in the Navy during WWII could be a book on their own, but his telling those tales (his laugh!) are savored memories.
We FEEL emotion, but physical TOUCH, our hands in dirt, our toes in the sand, the first swim of the season, or the first snowfall, also create memory.
Brushing against velvet reminds me of my childhood teddy bear who now lives in my cedar chest. Kissing the soft spot behind my newborn niece’s ear reminds me of past snuggled babies now in their twenties and thirties.
Holding my partner’s calloused hand in mine anchors my memories of our travels, dogs, and homes where we’ve built love.
Our senses are at the root of our memories. Sensory memories can leave impressions for years. We recall the memories associated with the retrieval cues of which we sometimes don’t have control. Digging through a box of yearbooks, varsity letters, and BFF notes from middle and high school elicits voluntary recalled memories, but unexpected sounds or tastes can evoke memories from our past we haven’t recently revisited, providing limitless writing content.
