Let’s be real: with a pre-schooler, some of the only guaranteed “me” moments I get, I get in the bathroom. If I sometimes take a little longer than necessary to indulge and get some damn reading time in, sue me.
Generally, it’s on my phone; it’s 2018, and I’m on Facebook, Twitter, Insta, and I’ve got this blog, obvs, plus e-mail, Buzzfeed, and about a dozen other time-wasting sites in my phone’s bookmarks. But every once in a while, I go old school.
My folks, who are in their mid-60s, are old-school when it comes to bathroom reading. They still have magazine subscriptions, and still keep back issues in the bathroom. I was flipping through one a couple of days ago – an old (like, 2016) issue of Reader’s Digest, which has been a staple in my folks’ house since I was a child. One of the features in this issue was a Reader’s Question: what sound best encapsulates your childhood?
There were a variety of answers – the sound of playing cards in the spokes of a bike, the sound of chocolate milk being slurped with a straw, the sound of shuffling cards and rolling dice.
I started thinking; I don’t think I have a particular sound that fully encapsulates my childhood, but there are so many other lingering, powerful sense memories that harken back to the weirdest, most obscure moments or times in my life, but a lot of the recollections are likewise sensory snapshots, not narratives:
Mandarin Orange Body Spray, Unknown Brand
Late summers, early college; eighteen or nineteen years old. My cousin Nikki practically lived with us; there were few weekends where she couldn’t be found camping out at our house. During one stay, she forgot a bottle of mandarin orange body spray that I loved because it was warm and floral and spicy, all at once. My sister and I sprayed it on our pillows before Nikki finally reclaimed it, and sometimes I can still smell it – 1 am, watching shounen-ai anime on VHS, camped out in the living room. Matresses and sleeping bags lined up on the floor. We had notebooks with hand-written RPG-style stories that we passed around, and hidden word documents with thousands of words of yaoi and slash fic that we wrote. Listening to the Queer As Folk and Velvet Goldmine soundtracks, and watching Dragonball Z at midnight. I sometimes wonder if there’s any chance Nikki’d remember what brand it was, or if it’s still made, but we’re talking almost twenty years ago, so I’m not especially hopeful.
Land O’ Lakes Flavored Hot Chocolate
Christmas. Always, always Christmas, and Christmas break. Christmas Eve, standing in the doorway to the bathroom in my bathrobe and tights while my mom curled her hair. The Animaniacs “Little Drummer Boy” segment. Playing Five Minute Mysteries while we waited for my parents to be ready to go out. The faerie-light illuminated drive to my Aunt’s house, the holiday themed riddles and brainteasers that we always played. Novelty Christmas songs. Snowflakes that melted on the windshield before the wipers could wipe them away. Late nights, watching the snow fall. Waking up on Christmas morning at 3am, the house quiet. Sneaking into the living room to explore untold treasures. An old, creaky pull-out couch (with a bar that absolutely killed your back if you didn’t lay on it just the right way), watching old episodes of Beavis and Butthead, and the music video for Bruce Springsteen’s “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” For some reason – and I haven’t actually had any of it in years and years – I occasionally crave the Chocolate Raspberry one, even though I feel like at the time, it was not one of my favorites.
“Stars,” from Les Miserables
Summer, age fifteen. Calisto and Caslon Antique fonts. Writing late at night and feeling completely creatively unfettered for one of the first and last times ever. Self-insert fanfics where I am completely inappropriately cast as the romantic interest. My sister and I drawing fanart for our own stories, multiple illustrations over multiple chapters. Kate M’s “Uncharted Stars,” and La Javert’s Flying Homepage. Sitting outside after midnight and sharing headphones. Drinking tea and watching soft-core pulp films on Showtime. Trolling the AOL Playbill theatre forums and making fast friends with anyone under eighteen. Handwritten letters and elaborately decorated envelopes. Cassette tapes mailed halfway across the country where we talked and sang and played If-Cubed. The echo function on Nikki’s karaoke machine, and the theme song to VeggieTales. Videos filmed on an on-loan camcorder that weighed nearly as much as we did. Nikki as Little Cosette, eyeshadow smudged like dirt on her cheeks.
What are some things – a taste, a sound, a flavor – that bring back memories, whether they are full narratives with a distinct plot arc, or likewise hazy snippets of visceral sensory recollections. What conjures up something you thought you’d long since forgot?