A Memory

While in Dublin, Meghan, Deitz, Chad and I ate lunch in a small coffee shop. There was music playing within, much of it popular music from the United States. Good popular music. Motown, old school R&B-type-stuff. A song came on--I can't remember what song it was, nor could I remember at the time who the song was by, but it was some Motown-esque song. Motown has seemed to always make me happy when I hear it, and while sitting in Ireland that day, I realized what it is that makes me smile. It throws me right back to my childhood, sitting in the back seat of our '89 (?...'91...? I can't really remember what year it was) Volkswagen Jetta or maybe even our beige Ford Escort, driving on Nassau Avenue in Greenpoint, or the BQE, or across the Verrazano Bridge, or even down the northernmost stretches of the New Jersey Turnpike with my parents on our way to Princeton or Hopewell or Pennington for the weekend, listening to Felix Hernandez on the Rhythm Review. This is definitely one of the most prominent and fond memories I have of being a child. There were no worries, only happiness in anticipation of a fun couple days at Joanie and Pop-Pop's playing with Rosie or throwing a tennis ball down their hallway Barry at their house on Westerly Road, or at Libby's house playing video games or one of the ridiculous games Barry and I made up, risking our own lives and the well-being of every object in the house in the process. 

It is memories such as these that remind me that I am aging. No, not old yet, I know. I have much life to live. But that childhood is past. I have roughly a year-and-a-half before I graduate and make my way into the "real world" as we college students call it, finding a place to live (sorry Mom Dukes and Pops), a job and starting my own life. But with these honest, innocent memories, I am able to relive some of the happiest, simplest times of my life--even while across an ocean seeing the world.

-ZMG