Let me begin by saying that I have a terrible memory. Terrible. Perhaps that is why I have journals all over the place. Innately, I recognize this flaw, if you will. However, there are certain times of my life, specific people, and certain experiences that I do remember in detail. I don’t have a developed theory on this, but it’s just the way that I am. Who would have thought that Oil of Olay would have triggered a glorious trip down memory lane to one of the most fulfilling and simple times of my life. A time that I had no idea how very wonderful life was.
I can remember the exact way the door looked and how the key turned. It was tricky. It only took a few times of practice and then you got it. It always smelled the same when you first walked in-like a house that been craving life and sun. Soon, the carpet would be with grains of sand and spills from unattended drinks and leaky baby bottles.
It didn’t matter how many times you had been there, it was like the very first time. We would run around like we’d never seen the place. Who is going to find the first dead cockroach? Where am I going to sleep? We all knew that Grams had some idea or order, but was flexible. The grown-ups are deciding who is going to go to Publics. Not me. My brother needs to bait his fishing hook, a task he awards to me that he will not openly admit. He’s already on the way to the garage to get the tackle box. It’s in the same place that we left it last time. We don’t have worms yet, so we will use cheese. It’s the only thing in the refrigerator besides butter. Grams will remind the grocery grabber to get bait for the kids...and anything else that they want. The names of sugary cereals and popping drinks fill the air. We are on Dahlgren Drive and everybody is so happy.
Grams reminds us to put hats on. It’s hot. She is already making sure that everything is in order in the house while keeping an eye on us at the dock. The screen door opens and closes and opens and closes. Grams begins, “Be careful of the…” and the yelp is heard. One of the kids has stepped on the mound of devilish fire ants. We had been warned a mere thousand times. Feet on crunchy Florida sand, she comes to the rescue with a magical potion and then uses her spray weapon to get those “bastards”. There is a sand bucket to mark the point of attack. She firmly tells us to wear shoes when walking from the house to the dock. I can still hear her. She would say it a million more times that trip.
The house was not big. It was perfect. It would soon look like the opening scene of Annie when all the girls lay in their beds. The only difference would be that there was so much love at this time that nobody would dreaming of finding family. We were all there. Together. There would be bodies everywhere. The back bedroom was Grams and Papou’s room. It was the most private. Also, a crib would go there for the youngest baby (or babies- depending on the year), since it was most quiet. Then, there was YiaYia and Aunt Jo’s room. There were two twin beds in this room with a nightstand in between. It reminded me of one of those old sitcoms where the husband and wife slept separately. They were kind of like husband and wife, although they were sisters. I can still hear YiaYia yelling at Aunt Jo to “shut the hell up” when she would be popping the ice out of the ice trays for her water. Aunt Jo had a hearing aid, so Yia Yia’s angst did not bother her a bit. We just loved when she swore and would laugh and laugh and laugh. Their bedroom door could not mute their snoring. We would be in stitches over it. Each kid taking a turn to listen. The third room had a double bed. This room would be awarded to the adult with a young child, so that the bed got the most use. For us-the youngsters- it was every man for himself. Couches were “called”, the cots were set up in the step-down living room, and most often, the boys wanted the pull-out couch so they could watch Sports Center and eat endless bowls of CoCo Puffs.
Eventually, the house would come to smell like Oil of Olay facewash. The one in the red and black bottle. It was not always in that bottle because when I think about it, I can remember it. I don’t know if it was because I used it there or if that was the overall scent of the busy and full house, but I know that smell. I bought the facewash in recent years, having no recollection of any of this, went to use it and froze. It was the scent of my childhood, some of the happiest years of my life, even when unhappy things were happening. It was Dahlgren Drive in a bottle. I called my Grandmother immediately. I shared with her my discovery and wondered if she would make the same connection. She told me that I was “nuts” and then reminded me that Oil of Olay was a good product. There was the proof that it was in fact there. I told her in that conversation how thankful I was for her and how those summers were the best of my life. I told her how I remembered those summers on Dahlgren and that I hardly remember anything. As a child, you do not have perspective or understanding of money. When I think back to the dinners, trips to Busch Gardens, the “get whatever you want, honey”, I am truly overwhelmed. This was not just for me, but for everybody there (or not there). As my brother said, she made you feel like you were the most important person in the world. She really did.
We would go to the “Private Beach”, which would be eventually become the backyard to my grandparents lovely home where would we continue to visit into adulthood. We would eat KFC, specifically 'chicken littles' (big mistake on KFC’s part getting rid of those) and the kids would complain about the seaweed for two minutes before starting a beach game. Greek music (on a local radio station-I can still sing the jingle) would play on a battery operated black radio. I remember secretly liking it. I always liked listening to Greek music.
After the beach, we would come home and take it easy for a bit. Nap time for babes. Fishing rods back out for the boys. I would watch Little House on the Prairie with Grams and my mom. They always drank coffee in the afternoon. I never understood that. Although I don’t do that on a regular basis, I now understand. I loved watching Michael Landon and the rest of the Ingalls with my grandmother. I distinctly remember being excited when there were two in a row. Truly, I can remember where we sat and the volume level on the TV. It was low. Don’t forget, the babies are napping.
So maybe I should retract my initial statement. Let me just say that while my memory is not ‘good’, the good memories are in there. I just need to wash my face to awaken them.