the elephant wrote:What are your supreme memories, moments that are crystalized in your mind so well that you can close your eyes and return to that time and place merely by remembering?
Fracking the high "G" in the euph solo from "Can You Read My Mind" in the "Superman Medley" during the Spring Concert my senior year in HS.
Isn't it weird how the mind works ? At 45 years old I have trouble remembering the names of people I see with my job on regular basis but I have tons of those old,vivid memories that I can recall and see like it is happenig to me now.
I remember the day the high school band students came to my elementary school and did a one hour assembly about joining band and all the insruments they played as they demostrated each one. I remember it like it just happened.
I remember all three of my kids being born via C-section . I was there for all of them and saw each one being pulled out. It was the most incredible thing in the world to see.
911- I was home sick that day and decided to sleep in. When I woke up and turned on the tv I was expecting to see one on the morning shows but instead it was coverage of the first tower having been hit . Moments later the second one was hit and then the Pentagon. I will never forget that .
Smelling fresh baked bread brings to mind memories of elementary school . Our cafeteria made it's own rolls ... yummy
It wasn't long ago just this past November, but I will forever remember and be affected by the day my dad died. I was working at a youth retreat in the mountains west of Colorado Springs when I get a paniced message through the camp secretary from my sister that I needed to come home. Dad had been battling cancer for about 6 months and had gone into the hospital a day or two before with pnumonia(sp?). I still had a day and a half at the retreat but I talked to the band and got found somebody to run the sound system for me so that I could leave. I arrived at the hospital about supper time and was there with my sisters and my step-mom when we turned the machines off and all stood there while he took his last breath
I miss my dad very much. We were not very close when I was a child, but had become quite close over the last 10 years or so.
bloke wrote:bad: a nightmare that I had where - suddenly - I owned a 4/4-size Italian-made CC tuba and - when I tried to trade it for something else - ended up with a Conn 25J.
Horrifying!
Amongst aviators it is often said that any landing you can walk away from is a good landing. It's an even better landing when you can reuse the airplane.
Nov. 22, 1963 - I was in 3rd grade at Arthur Kramer Elementary School in Dallas. I remember my teacher, Mrs. Lindsay, being excited in the morning and telling us that President & Mrs. Kennedy were going to visit Dallas. After lunch, she came back to the room crying. Before she could tell us why, the principal came on the intercom and said that President Kennedy had been shot and died. I was 8 years old. I remember my parents were glued to the TV the whole weekend.
Aug. 16, 1977 - Elvis died. It was my 22nd birthday.
April 19, 1995 - The Murrah Building in OKC exploded. One of the doctors on the scene was my drum major my junior year in high school.
Sept. 11, 2001 - I was on my way to a doctor's appointment and heard on the radio that a plane had crashed into a WTC building in New York. When I was being examined by the doctor, his nurse came in saying that another plane hit another building. My doctor said, "I don't think these were accidents".
In 2004, as our brass quintet was preparing to do a couple sets of music to be ignored in the DFAC of the presidential compound in Tikrit, we looked up at the TV and recognized our house (see presidential palace.) It was fun...hey, there's our house...hey, there's our general...wonder what's up? As we listened to MG Odierno announce that we had officially captured Sadam Hussein (something that had been rumoured for days) we all had the oddest thought. "Hey, the powers on! Let's hurry up and get home so we can take a shower. It's been two weeks!"
That was a surreal moment for me. It's amazing how the simple things can feel so nice.
At the risk of getting repetitive, I will relate my own 9/11 story. The radio show I listen to is your typical irreverant, zany morning drive-time show. All of a sudden one of the guys says "Oh. This is weird. A plane just hit the World Trade Center. Probably no big deal. We'll let you know if we hear anything else." It was just very surreal as the details kept coming in, as they gradually switched gears from zany to dead serious. As I remember, they stayed on the air until just after noon (rather than 10). Meanwhile, my wife was working at MassMutual Life Insurance. One of their subsidiaries, Oppenheimer Funds, was located in the WTC. She happened to be down in the lobby, and noticed a bunch of people (more than usual) crowded around the TV. No sooner did she ask what had happened, the second plane hit. her boss was in a meeting at the time, so she barged into the meeting and basically yelled "Which tower is Oppenheimer in?" "Aw, c'mon, Patty. Can't this wait?" "No, seriously. Where are our people? Another plane just hit the World Trade Center!" Luckily, they were below where the plane hit, and everybody got out, but the department my wife worked in also handled Disaster Recovery, so, needless to say, she (and I) were on the phone all night trying to get people out of the City who had literally nothing with them.
bardus est ut bardus probo, Bill Souder
All mushrooms are edible, some are edible only once.
11/22/63. I was five, and ready to watch "The Match Game" on TV. I went into the livingroom, where my Mom and Dad, and the neighbors, were huddled onto the couch, watching something (CBS coverage; my Dad's fave was Walter Chronkite) and I switched over to NBC--and banished to the back of the house with a "Quick-Draw McGraw" album for four days.
October, 1964. Schoolwide assembly, the day Herbert Hoover died. To date, the only president with any Oregon connection to speak of. I was in first grade, and remember the 6th grade class president reading the words to a hymn that was Hoover's favorite. It was my first conscious experience of being part of a nation.
Theisman's leg break: I was at the corrections academy in 1985, and was walking in from dinner, and happened to see it. I was not much of a fan of either team, so I hadn't watched the game, but my stomach turned when I saw that.
Challenger: I was working at the jail, bringing some women into the unit from visiting. One of the gals in the day room hollered "Hey, you gotta see this" and I stepped in to see the first replay. We just stood there, four inmates and me, watching that over and over. One of them really took exception to how much they were showing Crista McCalluf's (?) family watch their daughter blow up.
9/11: I was at Camp Rilea for SWAT training, and we were brought home "just in case" there were some additional problems. I have never been in a more quiet, determined environment as riding in that van with 5 negotiators and a sergeant, listening to the radio.
Discovery: We were in Florida, on a family vacation. We had decided not to go to the Kennedy Space Center, but were going to watch it go over head. We were outside, waiting, waiting. My sister in law (a pilot) turned on the news, and said "There's something up. I think it broke up over Texas." I think Annie was the most upset of all of us, although the kids were pretty upset.
I know it's been a popular topic, but I'll relate my own WTC story...
I was away at college, as a Freshman. It was a Tuesday, absolutely beautiful early September day. I had been a college student for about a week. I was sitting in my psychology class, when the professor came in, and said, "I don't feel much like teaching today. A plane hit the WTC about 20 minutes ago, and before I left to come in here, another plane hit the second tower. But, we must press on." He then proceeded with his lecture.
This being a Psychology class, we all thought he was going to bring that story in to make a point later in the lecture; we did not believe him. It sounded absurd. Planes hit the World Trade Center?? Twice??? couldn't be real.
Twenty minutes into class, someone bursts into the room, and says we are in a state of emergency, all classes are canceled and we need to get back to our dorms ASAP. I go rushing back to my dorm, wondering what the hell was going on--still not fully believing what my professor said. I rushed into the building and into my room to call home. I knew my mom would be home, and since the (packed) lounge was the only room in the building with cable, it seemed the easiest way to find out what was going on.
After a few attempts, I got through....and asked what was happened. As my mom brought me up to speed, she said something I will never forget: "The twin towers are gone."
Gone.
I asked her over and over to clarify what she meant...I didn't understand...how could they be gone? I grew up just across the Hudson River from Manhattan, and had seen the twin towers almost every day of my life. I lost control and started crying. I wanted desperately to be home with my family. I was only an hour away at Rutgers, but I may as well have been in California. I managed to compose myself in time to go try and watch the news in the lounge. I walked out just in time to watch a replay of the towers falling.
The next day, my friend and I went to a local hospital to donate blood. It was surreal traveling through New Brunswick, occasionally seeing fighter jets streak over us--and nothing else.
The other image I'll never forget was when my brother came to bring me home for the weekend that Friday. We were driving on the turnpike, and just as we reached the top of a bridge over the Hackensack River, we got to the point where the WTC usually came into view. All I could see was a cloud of dust. Three days later, and there was still a dust cloud hanging over the site. I will never, ever be able to forget that image, my first look in person at the NY skyline without the twin towers. I get chills just typing it.
Sorry for the long post...growing up so close to NYC, that was a particularly poignant day for me...very difficult, especially being away from the people I love.
1963, John Kennedy was reported shot on T.V. as I was trying to demonstrate a vacuum cleaner in this guy's living room. He apologized and said he needed to watch this. I headed home and my wife and I were glued to the television for days.
9/11, I was having early morning heart bypass surgery. I woke up in ICU hearing reports about being at war and the ITC attack from a T.V. nearby.
When my wife showed up, I asked her how long I was out.
I'm lucky the surgery crew was able to do such a good job on me with all that going on.
Mine too is 9/11. We were on vacation in a small town named Ucluelet on the west coast of Vancouver Island in BC, Canada.
We slept in, finally turned on the TV, probably to get the weather, at something like 10 a.m. Saw a picture of a jet ramming the Trade Center. Assumed it was a movie, wondered what Armageddon movie it was. Realized shortly it was not a movie. Got really, really depressed. But yeah, I remember the room, the TV, the incredulity of it. Even remember thinking that if we didn't get to go home because of this, we could be in a much worse place, I mean, if this was WWIII at least we could catch fish to live on; only problem was having my cats on the other side of the border.
My mom has told me before of the day when JFK died. She was in elementary school, and the most acute memory she has of the day is of her teacher walking into the room crying, and then telling them that the President had been shot.
My first clear memory, out of anything, is when my Dad brought home my family's first dog. He was a collie/golden retriever mix that we named Sam. Unfortunately, another vivid memory I have of that dog is helping my dad carry him out to the car, on his way to the vet a couple years back. He had to be put to sleep, as he had a tumor that had pushed his heart into his ribcage.
I also remember the day my dad brought home our next and current dog. He is a mix between a purebred Black Lab and a purebred German Shepherd, and his name is Bear. We got him when he was fairly young, just a little thing. That night he fell asleep on top of a pillow, and was so far asleep that he rolled off the pillow without even opening an eye.
He's an interesting story that my mom has told me before, and one which sticks out for both of us.
When I was born, back in '89, my family was living in Chatham, IL. My mom went into labor two months before my due date. After being rushed to St. John's Hospital in Springfield, IL, the doctors had a look to see how early I was. They originally thought I was 6 weeks early, but found out then that I was actually 9 weeks early. On top of that, my lung development was 12 weeks away from being fully ready for birth. They put my mom on several types of high-powered steroids, to speed up my growth as much as possible before delivery. As my mom related to me, they had to turn off all lights in the room, seal the windows from any outside light, and turn the health monitors away from the bed, as the steroids had given her a migraine so bad that any direct light made her have a seizure. After several hours of this, my lungs had been pumped up to being 9 weeks premature, along with the rest of my body. They had to take her off the steroids, as the treatment had moved from helping my growth to taking us both to the brink of death.
After all of that stuff, my mom finally went in to give birth. She had to have a spinal tap, to alleviate all of the different kinds of pain going around. This is the part of the story she remembers most. The spinal tap was causing unbearable pain for my mom, and luckily a nurse came to help calm her down, and get her through all of that. She distinctly remembers looking up at this nurse, who had a surgical mask on. She could tell that he was an Asian man, and remembers starting to feel very relaxed and calm while he was holding her hand and saying everything was fine. Since St. John's is a Catholic hospital, there were crucifixes and other Christian items on the walls. My mom remembers looking at the man, and seeing on the wall behind him a crucifix hanging there. She has said if it wasn't for that man and his help, she might not have made it through the procedure as well as she did. Later, after my birth, she asked the other nurses and doctors who the Asian nurse was. According to all of those she spoke to, there was no Asian nurse or doctor that worked at the hospital at that time.
The first half of that story was related to me just last night. I've always been disappointed with how my lungs work, with such a small lung capacity and all. Then again, in light of all that trouble, I should probably be a little more thankful.
"There are places in music that you can only go if you're an idiot."--Tom Waits
I think we could all post OKC, 9/11, Katrina etc. but for me it was the after of these events that are burned unto my memory:
OKC: Visiting the site of the bombing and seeing the chairs where the building used to be located. Looking at the fence that surrounded the disaster and realizing all of the trinkets that people left to remember there relatives were still there many years later. I am not religious, but going across the street and seeing the Virgin Mary was very moving. You can see things on TV, but going really stirs memories, brings it to life etc. If you have never been there, IMHO it is one of the most and well designed memorials out there:
9/11: A week after 9/11 I had to go to DC. Driving on I-95 and not seeing the Twin Towers or any planes in the sky while driving through NJ. Arriving in DC and seeing a giant hole in the Pentagon. The Pentagon was the big one for me. Not just seeing the hole, but noticing that it was a direct hit. No tracks in the grass etc.
Katrina: Driving the coast of Mississippi and only seeing foundations for as far as the eye can see was quite stunning. Going to New Orleans almost 2 years later and realizing it hadn't changed that much since the hurricane. Going into the 9th Ward and trying to avoid power lines, looking into houses that were just wood with no sheet rock, paint, furniture etc. There was also hope with the Musicians Village:
For me the big one was when the school shootings happened in fall 2006 in the Amish community and in the mountains of Colorado just a few hours from me. It was my 2nd year teaching and the realization that I was responsible for those young lives if somebody were to come into my school and my classroom. I spent a lot of time with "daymares" trying to figure out what I would do if I were put into that type of a situation. Would I put myself between my students and a mad man.
It almost came true a few weeks later. My music room was in the elementary building but my first two classes were JH band followed by HS band with the JH/SH across the street and the students coming to me. About halfway through JH band the elementary principal came into my room and told me that when my class ended that I needed to escort the JH across the street and wait for the HS students and escort them to the band room. Didn't think too much of it at the moment but found out later that morning that INS had raided the potato warehouse down the road (the school was in farm country with potato fields on all sides) and a few of the illegal imegrants ran out of their carrying weapons I hope I'm never put into that type of situation, but if I am I pray that I have the strength to protect my students no matter the cost.
