Tag: memories

May #InkRipples: The Power of Memories

May 4, 2016 / Katie L. Carroll

Memories are a powerful force not only in our minds but in the world. They influence who we are as people, how we perceive the world, and what we learn. Memories keep our loved ones alive long after they have left this mortal world. They are our past, they inform our present, and they shape our future.

I recently read that scientists have discovered that memories can be inherited, passed down from one generation to the next, particularly from those who have faced trauma (see “Study of Holocaust Survivors Finds Trauma Passed on to Children’s Genes”). That means memories can change our DNA and in turn alter our children’s genes. This seems like a crazy idea straight out of a sci-fi book, but it’s not; it’s real. (See “Science Is Proving Some Memories Are Passed Down From Our Ancestors” and “Memories Can Be Inherited, and Scientists May Have Just Figured out How”.)

I wonder if that’s why when I talk with the boys about my sister Kylene, who died long before either of them were born, I get this uncanny feeling that they know exactly who I’m talking about, like they knew her. There is a solemness during these conversations. It may be that they’re feeding off of my emotions, but even that doesn’t feel like an adequate explanation.

The first time I had this sense of impossible knowledge on behalf of the boys, I thought I was reading too much into the situation (as I tend to do). But after I read that memories can be inherited, I realized there might be some truth to my intuition about my children and the auntie they never met. That somehow through my own trauma my boys have memories of my sister. Or maybe I’m deluding myself into thinking the impossible is possible.

How have your memories (or perhaps those of your parents) influenced your life?

#InkRipples is a monthly meme created by Katie L. Carroll, Mary Waibel, and Kai Strand. We pick a topic (May is all about memories), drop a ripple in the inkwell (i.e. write about it on our blogs), and see where the conversation goes. Be sure to check out Kai’s and Mary’s posts this month. We’d love to have you join in the conversation on your own blogs. Full details and each month’s topic can be found on my #InkRipples page.

Thinking of Kylene

April 16, 2013 / Katie L. Carroll

That’s me on the left, reading to my little sister, Kylene, on the right.

Most days I’m not sad about the death of my sister Kylene. It’s been 11 years after all. And the sharp pangs of loss tend to fade over time into a duller, more generalized ache of longing. But there are triggers that bring back the sting of losing her. Inevitably, major life milestones, her birthday every year, and today—the anniversary of her death—dredge up the deep well of feelings of losing your 16-year-old sister.

In the past, I’ve shared Kylene’s poems (here and here). Yesterday I was reading through one of her journals. Her words are pretty typical of girl her age (she was 13 when she wrote these particular entries and looking forward to a trip to Georgia with her Girl Scout troop), but there ones that break my heart because they’re so full of hopes and dreams, and I know she had so many of these that never came true.

“Every activity sounds incredibly exciting.” “There are so many things to look forward to.” “Seven days ’till I have one of the best five days in my entire life.” When I read these snippets I can’t help but think of all the activities she missed out on, all the things she looked forward to and never got to experience, how short her entire life ended up being.

So I let myself have this day to be sad for Kylene and for myself, and for all the people who knew her and lost her, and all the people who didn’t get to know her. The other days I remember her with a smile, and try to be more caring like she was, and try to live my life experiencing new and wonderful things because she didn’t get to. Even though sometimes it’s hard to remember, not because the memories are faded, but because the memories are bittersweet.

Transformative Power of the Senses

April 12, 2013 / Katie L. Carroll

I’m always amazed at how a small detail—a sight glimpsed out of the corner of my eye; the whiff of an familiar, but forgotten, smell; a tickle of sound in my ear—can transform me to a different place. And not always a physical place, sometimes a place in time.

Honeysuckle, with its far-reaching sweet scent and sticky nectar, brings me back to early summer during my childhood. When there was always a tree to climb or a brook to explore or a patch of asphalt to skin my knees on. When the sun stayed up late and my parents allowed me to play outside until a late bedtime.

The album Little Earthquakes by Tori Amos transports me to a white mini-van packed to the gills with my family and our luggage. Cruising down the highway toward Florida, scenery rushing by as we drove south to Florida. My siblings and I singing “The Name Game” song: “Chuck, Chuck, bo-buck, banana-fana fo-“. My sisters and I cutting off and then cracking up when my brother—the youngest, who was only three—shouted out the swearword.

The view in Connecticut.

Today as The Boy and I walked to the beach, a puff of white in the space between two houses made me suck in a surprised breath as my mind traveled 6,300 miles to the island of Moorea in French Polynesia. Once we arrived at the beach, I stopped for a better look. Puff up those clouds a little more, change the gray waters of Long Island Sound to a see-through turquoise, substitute Long Island for an island in the South Pacific, and turn the rest of the slightly overcast sky to a pale blue…and I was in paradise.

The view in Moorea, French Polynesia.

Okay, I realize looking at the two pictures, the views aren’t even close to each other, but something about that quick glance set the gears in my mind turning and brought me to another place. Both sights are beautiful in their own ways, don’t you think?

What senses bring you to a memory?

April Showers

April 2, 2013 / Katie L. Carroll

Fellow Muser Suzanne de Montigny, author of the wonderful tween novel The Shadow of the Unicorn: The Legacy, was gracious enough to interview me on her blog today. Stop by and leave a comment for a chance to win a copy of Elixir Bound.

April started off with an afternoon rain shower. Do you think that bodes well for May flowers or it was an April Fools’ joke and just means a rainy spring? Either way, the crocus are blooming, a bluejay has been spotted in the backyard, and the peas have been planted. It’s definitely spring in New England.

While I was out gardening yesterday, I realized I’ve been planting and harvesting crops since, well, since I can remember. My parents have always had a garden and I can remember going to Joseph’s house to pick strawberries. My dad had somehow befriended Joseph–who used a walker and seemed like he was the oldest man I’d ever seen, but was really not nearly as old as I thought.

He had a big strawberry patch in his yard and we’d go every summer to pick them. My older sisters would run around the yard and I’d chase after them, keeping up as best as I could. Seems I spent a good part of my childhood trying to keep up with my older sisters. Joseph always kept flying saucer ice cream sandwiches in the freezer for us. What a treat!

Funny how a little digging in the dirt can drudge up old memories I didn’t even know I had. I hope The Boy ends up with fond memories of gardening. He’s already been strawberry and apple picking, and I think he’s old enough to start working in our garden.

The mercury may only be in the 30’s this morning, but the sun is shining and the birds are chirping. Yup, it’s definitely spring!

Haunted at 17

March 22, 2013 / Katie L. Carroll

Hauntedat17banner

Nova Ren Suma’s new novel 17 & Gone released yesterday and she’s been running a blog special featuring what other YA authors were haunted by at age 17. I loved, loved, loved her novel Imaginary Girls and am super excited to be attending one of her workshops at the upcoming New England SCBWI writing conference in May. So without further ado, here’s what haunted me at 17:

The Best Years Of My Life?

I’d always heard people say the high-school years were the best of their lives. I never believed it. Not until I was 17 and heading into my senior of high school…and my life was, well, pretty perfect.

If I’d learned anything from books and TV, the teenage years were supposed to be filled with angst and rebellion. Sure, I’d had my moments of getting in trouble for staying out late at parties and the drama of ex-boyfriends hooking up with (soon-to-be-ex) friends. Moments that were all-consuming when they were happening, but in my bliss of seniordom, they were dark blips on the otherwise bright radar of my future.

On the precipice of senior year, I was a standout athlete, poised to graduate with a perfect 12 varsity letters (one each year in soccer, basketball, and track). An honor student, and on track to graduate in the top 5% of my class. A member of the student council, a volunteer at the hospital (right down to the horrible candy-striped outfit and white Keds), and a senior editor on the school newspaper. My resume would make any stereotypical world-hating teenager throw up stolen vodka all over her Doc Martens.

Oh, and I had just starting dating a guy I’d had been crushing on for the last several months. We worked together at the local hardware store. He was a long-lashed, quiet, super-smart college guy. Not my usual jock fare. We engaged in long, intellectual conversations about movies, science documentaries on the Discovery Channel, music, and life. And the only anxiety I had when kissing him was worrying about whether my lips felt too rough on his delectably soft ones. (Seriously, why don’t all guys use Chapstick? Soft lips are in no way reserved for women.) We were still at the tingly new relationship phase, where every touch zinged with energy and excitement.

Yeah. Life was pretty perfect…maybe a little too perfect.

My senior night during basketball season. On the left is my sister Kylene during her freshman year of high school. Lucky #13 is me at 17.

As winter and basketball season approached, I struggled to keep my mini panic attacks from becoming noticeable. What if my one poor grade in pre-calculus junior year tarnished my transcripts? What if I didn’t get into my top college? Or any college? What if my relationship was too good to be true and he dumped me out of the blue?

Looming bigger than all that trepidation, though, the worst fear of all haunted me: What if high school truly was the peak of my life? What if 17 & Perfect turned into 18 & Past My Prime? What if when I was 40 and married (divorced?), I’d spend all my time reminiscing with the other sad, middle-aged women over “the good old days” and vicariously living through my own high-school aged kids? What if the next 60+ years merely consisted of a slow, steady decline into bitterness? Were these really the best years of my life?

Seems even then, when things were going well, I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. The biggest shoe of all didn’t drop until I was 19 and my sister died, but it’s been a steady uphill (with a few bumps along the way) since then. At least at the ripe age of 30 (what an old lady my 17-year old self is saying), I can say each year brings in new highs and lows, as does each decade. I don’t think I’ll ever be over the fear of the good times running out, but I can definitely say while the high-school years brought me some wonderful memories, they certainly weren’t the best of my life.

What haunted you at 17?