18 Feb 2016 Savoring who we were and how it was
by Vivian Lawson Hogue
Many people think nostalgia is a purely undefined and valueless mental phenomenon, but it is built by all of our five senses. Pleasant or not, they track our steps in life. It doesn’t take many years of living to notice how things “used to be” — yes, sometimes cruel, but usually better.
We have the comforts and conveniences not present in the previous generation, yet will be made fun of by the next. Perhaps those days were not as technologically or culturally advanced. Perhaps lives were very hard. However, they built our character and helped us depend on our own efforts.
Those who weren’t there do not believe those simpler-life days. They say they only look better from a distance. It is unfortunate that they couldn’t have enjoyed them, but most of us who have past lifetimes in common can attest to shared sense-related memories.
For instance, I can ask anyone who was in junior high with me in 1958 to describe the smell of our old building with its 1908 wood floors. They will say, “linseed oil.”
They will also recall the varied aromas that permeated the downtown area. The sale barn and cotton gin odors. Food cooking in downtown residences and the many small cafes. The Log Cabin Democrat as the sweet smell of printer’s ink wafted from the open windows on Oak Street. The clean smell of shoe polish as a man named “Red” waxed, then popped a rag to buff men’s shoes to an impressive sheen.
Our memories still hear the city bus approaching, the single, droning fire station siren, farm animal sounds within the city limits and a mother calling her child from blocks away.
Our brains still see our formerly small but close-knit and renowned colleges of a few buildings each, and the old post office with its classic architecture and brass door handles.
We can still taste the nickel-a-dip ice cream at Hap Donnell’s drug store and Conway Theater’s 10-cent popcorn.
The quick touch of a large block of ice from the ice house twice a year was exciting to those of us who only had ice trays in our iceboxes. When we remove the rubber band or plastic bag from our newspapers, we remember the size and thickness of former editions. They were thrown either folded or bound with string, which my mother saved to tie around mailed packages.
The best place to enjoy nostalgia is at family, class or church reunions. It doesn’t matter where. For a short time, everyone attending is kin in some way, usually through memories. It may be Grandmother’s humorous antics. Or the time someone turned over Grandpa’s outhouse and someone was in it. It was possibly when a sprinkling baptism was to take place and there was no bowl of water present. It could have been when our local public high school had a weekly chapel to start the week with a visiting preacher, a prayer and the Pledge of Allegiance to our flag and country. There were no lawsuits or protesters with signs on the front steps.
Some people are afraid to look back as if it will expose a soft spot or a traumatic time. Many want to project their gloomy and dramatic negativism saying nostalgia is a sign of weakness. Do they ever look back and smile when they see red wax lips on Valentine’s Day? When they see an 8-track tape player? When they visit an antique car show? When they happen upon dad’s old sweater? Sadly, I would say perhaps they proudly hide those soft spots on their hearts, and no pleasant or laugh-provoking memory is allowed.
A native of Conway, Vivian Lawson Hogue graduated from the University of Central Arkansas with a degree in art education. A retired teacher, she worked in the Conway School District for 23 years. She is editor of the Faulkner County Historical Society’s semi-annual publication, “Faulkner Facts and Fiddlings.” She can be reached at [email protected].
