07 30 11 Pass the Popcorn

I really have so much that runs through my mind these days. It seems that there is rarely an idle moment that I find my mind relaxed or just taking a break. It never stops thinking or reasoning, or imagining, or contemplating, or hashing over things, or making up scenarios that play out over and over. It seems that my mind is a never ending cascading reel of factual fiction that leaves me wanting a bucket of hot buttered popcorn and box of Junior Mints.

Without visual input, I seem to be thinking in Technicolor. I am moving in stereo, just like rick Ocassik sang about on The Cars first album.

I scour my memory bank and have managed to come up with some dusty memory classics this past year that I had completely forgot about. I wander from internal scripts, to mental journals. A passage into and through a scattered collection of memorabilia that somehow kept from being set out for sale on a flea market table down on Route 1 in Searsport.

With all of my files in my data bank, the ones that seem to crop up just as often as the others is the memories from my past several jobs.

I have traveled throughout central and western Maine for over 30 years, and I drive the routes in my mind over and over. I am behind the wheel and it feels good. It feels normal. It feels just as good as it ever did.

I have traveled route 2 from Skowhegan to Farmington a million times. Half of them without ever leaving my head.

I find comfort in my thoughts. I find friends and family and places and customers along with so many events that have shaped me and molded me into my gray haired Billy goat years. I have the events of this past year also logged into the film vault, but they usually play on a different schedule than my older visual memories do.

I can’t begin to tell you how totally different my mental images of this past year differ from their actual accuracy. What I perceive as my visions now, must differ greatly from their actual appearance.

I do tend to  wander into a few rooms full of memories that would be better served as just left alone. I do not like to dwell into the “what if’s”, or the “how come’s”, they will not, and can not ever prove useful to me. I need to stay into the ‘I will’s”, and the “I can’s”.

My grandson blew into our lives again this weekend, like a welcome tropical depression on a drought stricken land. It is such a blessing to have him in my life. He has given this mush melon of a brain of mine so many grand memories that will fill the screen for all eternity.

No matter where I turn, the good memories come flooding in. Like chocolate, they fill the cravings of a thousand sweet tooths. I can feel my battery recharging the whole time My Grandson Jack is near. Like a passionate surge, the time spent with him flows through my core and fills my cells with the energy that I need to carry on.

With all that I have lived, and all that I have learned, time is the anchor of it all. With time, in time, making time, buying time, hardly any time, out of time, it is an endless gift and a reoccurring burden at times.

I have time to think, and I have time to reflect. In time I am sure that I will be able to go back through time and gather enough knowledge to move on to the next event in my existence.

Like my mind, this blog post has wandered in and out of my point. In time, maybe I can work on that too.

Until then, I will keep imagining and remembering, and wondering, and manufacturing.

The reel that is spinning on the projector is nearly empty, but there is another one cued up and raring to go.  Keep the hot buttered popcorn and Junior Mints coming! The show is just getting started.