A case of memory

Hi Folks,

Today’s blog post is going to be a little bit different. For one I am typing with lemon scented fingers which isn’t normal but I have hurled myself into the manufacture of 3 fruit marmalade, lime curd, steamed chocolate puddings, cleaning out the fridge and various other ventures that have me away from the computer for most of the day. A mysterious guest blogger has asked me if I would allow them to post a little post today and who am I to deny an edge of mystery to Serendipity Farm? (Especially when my fingers are lemon scented and busy 😉 ). So without any further ado, please welcome my special guest blogger “El Nacho Libre” who must remain anonymous to protect his identity from those who would oppress his freedom of speech. Let’s just say he is a cross between Che Guevara and Mahatma Gandhi. Here are his sage words for you all to mentally inhale, process and learn from. Consider yourselves all “Young Padawan’s” for this post…

We managed to capture a pic of this man who was moving very fast

We managed to capture a pic of this man who was moving very fast

“I have  a little black book with my poems in …that’s a line from a pink Floyd song , I think memories are a thing we all have stored in different ways , some take pictures and frame them , some write words in books and diaries , some put them in a box in a spare room and sometimes they look at them. I have mine stashed all over the place in my chaotic ways.

an old work box

an old work box

I have a collection of old cases that I have inherited here, one sits forlorn in the garage rat chewed and full of sheet music, I have been through the music and saved what is not to badly eaten for a project I have in mind the rest of it is a memory of a person I have never met or known but that case holds a life’s musical memories. What we leave here when we depart is just that, memories of us and what we were and did. This post isn’t sad I just have these cases which held things in them , one is a wraaf case (women royal Australian air force) one is a case which has one of the locks shut and I don’t want to open it, one is from a very old trumpet that I have here from the Albany band of many years ago and the other is a clarinet case that I was sent by Margaret Stahl just before she died she was going to send me an old violin for my music room but  I don’t have that case . I have never played the trumpet but again memories are in its valves as with the clarinet. I have an old guitar that I bought 30 years ago I have spilt my blood on the strings of that guitar and it holds my memories in it.

old cases full of storys

old cases full of story’s

old instruments

old instruments

A memory can be a plaque on a church, a seat built for someone who has passed away. It can be a flower or a smell that takes you back to a place in time, the feel of something. You can close your eyes and see a place, person, thing and relate it back to yourself and your story. A stone can hold a billion memories, the wall of a house can reverberate with the lives lived in there.  They can be bad memories they can be wonderful ones but they are a shadow of what was and now has passed, as each day dawns a new memory is created with the way the sun rises and the river wends its way in and out on the tides. The time you see on the face of the clock is the present and the present passes in the blink of an eye. We are all someone’s future memory and someone’s smell feel or touch; we are just that at the end of the day. We dream a dream and become a memory

someone's wish

someone’s wish

a memory long  gone

a memory long gone

memory's kept alive

memory’s kept alive

a memory to someone

a memory to someone

My cases all have a story some may be good some bad, some have seen war and some just peace time, I don’t know, they are not my memories but I am the keeper of those memories now.


millions of years in a rock


I’ve got a little black book with my poems in.
Got a bag with a toothbrush and a comb in.
When I’m a good dog, they sometimes throw me a bone in.

I got elastic bands keepin my shoes on.
Got those swollen hand blues.
Got thirteen channels of shit on the T.V. to choose from.
I’ve got electric light.
And I’ve got second sight.
And amazing powers of observation.
And that is how I know
when I try to get through
on the telephone to you
there’ll be nobody home.

I’ve got the obligatory Hendrix perm.
And the inevitable pinhole burns
all down the front of my favourite satin shirt.
I’ve got nicotine stains on my fingers.
I’ve got a silver spoon on a chain.
I’ve got a grand piano to prop up my mortal remains.

I’ve got wild staring eyes.
And I’ve got a strong urge to fly.
But I got nowhere to fly to.
Ooooh, Babe when I pick up the phone

“Surprise, surprise, surprise…”

There’s still nobody home.

I’ve got a pair of Gohills boots
and I got fading roots.”

Someone's memory's etched in grime and blood

Someone’s memory’s etched in grime and blood

Well that was a bit different wasn’t it folks. I hope you all enjoyed this wonderful guest post and by the way…any resemblance between El Nacho Libre, my mysterious guest blogger and Steve is entirely coincidental 😉

35 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. brymnsons
    Oct 16, 2013 @ 20:25:05

    Lol very nostalgic El Nacho Libre (aka STEVE :D) Some nice shots too


    • narf77
      Oct 17, 2013 @ 03:39:54

      LOL can’t fool you eh Kymmy: ;). Yeah, I was flat out like a lizard drinking yesterday. I ended up prepping a batch of lemon, lime and orange marmalade, not knowing that it has to sit for 24 hours but took an hour just to cut all of that peel into tiny matchsticks, then I made some lemon curd and am still trying to work out what to make out of a mountain of gifted limes and lemons that I still have sitting in a big bowl on the table. I was running short of time and Steve had said that he wanted to write a post so I put the two together and had a day off ;).


      • brymnsons
        Oct 17, 2013 @ 22:18:58

        Good idea 🙂 I hear preserved lemons are great for recipes. Haven’t tried any myself but then again haven’t been able to buy any either…

      • narf77
        Oct 18, 2013 @ 03:08:56

        Most of what I have left are ripe limes apparently. I would have sworn that they were lemons but they are sweeter than lemons. Not entirely sure what to do with them but preserved “limes” might be the go. I just need a bucket of salt now… 😉

      • narf77
        Oct 20, 2013 @ 04:17:23

        Wish I could send you a bushel (whatever that is I am sure I can spare it at the moment!) of the bloody things! I got some gorgeous ripe lemons from Jo in Launceston from “All the Blue Day” blogging fame and then our Crazy American Hippy friend asked Steve to pick up some mushroom compost for his garden as he only rides a motorbike and gave me 2 large supermarket bags FULL of ripe limes…NO idea what to do with them and have made curd (now out of sugar), marmalade (still out of sugar and am down to using raw sugar I found up the back of the cupboard but almost out of that too…) and I still have a large bowl of them staring at me. I think I might have to be “out of salt” as well and preserve them! I don’t know that I would even use preserved lemons but at least they wouldn’t guilt me out by turning from yellow through the spectrum to mouldy green 😉

  2. LyndaD
    Oct 16, 2013 @ 21:09:04

    Hang onto those memories “Mystery Blogger”. My husband had a “different” kind of childhood that involved being dragged from England to Oz to England to Oz to England to Oz etc etc many times over. Never having a sense of home or belonging anywhere. His father, Yorkshire Aspie (could there be a worse combination) thought that the grass (or welfare) was always greener on the other side (of the ocean). Hence my poor hubby (also Aspie) has no sense of belonging anywhere or have anything that reminds him of his life or family. If it didnt fit into one suitcase it was sold off or given away each time. Not even family photos!!! This has really had an impact on him in that he buys lots of stuff, seemingly to fill the void and im am positive that we will die in this house we built 18 years ago because its the only home he has known. I on the otherhand still have a mug on my office desk that i had in my first flat 32 years ago. There is a picture on my wall that was in my bedroom at 15. Despite having lived here in Melbourne for 27 years i still Narrandera in NSW “my home”. Its where my roots are. So, despite the need for a major declutter, ill be hanging onto my memory items.


    • narf77
      Oct 17, 2013 @ 03:52:45

      You are right when you say that our childhoods shape us. You can’t escape that early “intervention” that your parents force on you. Steve was moved from Liverpool when he was 4 down to Essex. He talked scouse and was picked on mercilessly until he learned to talk like everyone else and blend in. He spent the rest of his life “blending in” and just being in the background. He is naturally incredibly shy but has come out of his shell a lot since he moved here (no choice really 😉 ). It would be harder for someone with Asperger’s because they need their routine and their secure environments. Does your husband have a hobby? I feel for you about knowing where your roots are. I was born and raised in W.A. and it runs through my veins but I am more than happy to live here in Tassie (especially when its 47C in summer in my old home town 😉 ). Memories are so important. When Steve bought me a new kettle the very first thing that I wanted was a stone from a long white sandy W.A. beach to put into it like my Grandma used to have so my brother was duly sent off to hunt. You can’t take what happened to you or where you come from out of you but you can celebrate it and I love that you have your picture and your mug from your past :). I don’t have a lot from my past as we moved around so many times and we were pretty poor so we didn’t have much to start off with but I guess I should be glad really because “stuff” doesn’t mean much to me and I know how to live happily without very much. I gave my toys to my siblings (I was the oldest) and my kids broke most of my mugs (a lesson folks DON’T let the kids wash your mug when they are forced to do the dishes 😉 ) but at the moment they are all great memories…not entirely sure how many memories will stick but they say that as you age you remember more of them. That would be good because I don’t have all that many of them at the moment. Thankyou for sharing with us Lynda and hugs from Tassie 🙂


  3. Old Fart
    Oct 16, 2013 @ 21:53:13

    TeeeeHeeee….Bloody interesting….Some dust colection/s ??
    Oh, BTW, The finger touching the suppose nose on the first picture seams to belong to a female….Now that’s according to, and from another Aussie Sherlock Holmes from the Out West bush…. 😀


  4. Littlesundog
    Oct 16, 2013 @ 23:56:06

    I thought about my own life memories as I read the words of, uh, El Nacho Libre (which the nacho part made me hungry by the way!). This spring I made a trip back to my roots in Nebraska, and confronted memories there that maybe weren’t so pleasant… thoughts and remembrances I avoided for the last 20-some years. The house I grew up in had been torn down a few weeks prior to my visit. Shortly after I returned to Oklahoma, my sister Jules blogged about her memories of life in that house,(http://groovylove.wordpress.com/2013/04/02/the-house-that-built-me/) where I realized her memories were much different than mine. I was able to see something better, so many good things about life lived in that house, and found some healing in her words. My perception of that house had been so rooted in my own ugly thoughts and memories, that I had neglected to see the goodness and love there had been.

    Fickle sometimes, aren’t we? I am always amazed and surprised at how interconnected we all are… and that someone’s words can ignite so much thought and pondering. Thank you Mr. El Nacho Libre, for taking me down memory lane!


    • narf77
      Oct 17, 2013 @ 04:40:47

      I must let my “mystery guest blogger” post more because that’s 2 very poignant “memories” from other people just from this post alone. I, too, had a difficult childhood and would rather not remember most of it but I guess it’s what shaped us, what made us who and what we are today and what set our lives on the track that would lead us to where we are, right here, right now. I belive that everything is interconnected and that the bad things that happen to us are there to direct us to new pathways and chances to pick ourselves up, shake ourselves off and learn. I love that Mr Nacho’s managed to make you both thoughtful and hungry at the same time ;). I also loved your sisters post by the way. She obviously has different memories but then that was her own personal life journey and her own special pathway to walk, yours is different and that’s what makes us truly unique 🙂


  5. quarteracrelifestyle
    Oct 17, 2013 @ 06:18:31

    Love this 🙂 we have a collection of old cases too – one was a little old doctors case left behind in the car by a hitch hiker Roger picked up….I imagine this guy had carried it around for a long time and it meant something very special to him.

    I agree with what you say here Fran about interconnectedness and experience, I also had a rather fraught childhood which was dredged up recently with the death of my mother, it was interesting to be together again as a family after many years apart and compare very different perspectives of all my siblings. Where some have moved threw it and grown 2 remain stuck and have struggled with addictions and their lives. In my work I have seen this time and time again, those who struggle most are those who are still rehashing very old experiences, reliving old trauma. Our family spent a few nights laughing like crazy at the fun we also had, the mischief we got up to, the craziness of our childhood and there really was joy in realising 40 – 50 years later we were all living good lives, we are no longer vulnerable kids but strong, happy, very different people.


    • narf77
      Oct 17, 2013 @ 06:32:00

      You are SO right Wendy (as usual 🙂 ). It’s all about learning, growing from what happened to you and living. Every time someone close to me dies it is a reminder that we don’t have tenure on this earth forever. The older I get the more poignant these wonderful experiences are and I am just a bit twitchy that it has taken me 50 years to realise this! Or is that how it is meant to be? 😉


      • quarteracrelifestyle
        Oct 17, 2013 @ 06:44:13

        Don’t know that I am usually right lol, maybe 50% of the time to 50% of people 🙂

        Acquired wisdom 🙂 I feel like that too at times but I really think now it does maybe take a lifetime to unlearn all the c..p about yourself and the world that you believed were all facts and became the basis of how you perceived everything in life… and your decision making processes 🙂 A long, sometimes painful, sometimes magical journey!!

      • narf77
        Oct 17, 2013 @ 06:47:39

        Yeah and only some of us get to 50 and “know”. It’s sad how many people are out there still trying to make mum and dad happy and never realising that they were just people like the rest of us are. When we let them go and forgive them we can see them for who they really are and that’s when we can really know that we are free to make our own choices with what life has handed us and we are also free to see those life experiences as chances to learn or places to sit, stuck on a shelf. I would rather be honest about myself, my life, the world and everything that happens to me than sit on a shelf with my fingers in my ears. It took me 34 years to learn that so maybe I DO have hope 😉

      • quarteracrelifestyle
        Oct 17, 2013 @ 06:53:14

        I totally agree with everything you said here.

        My parents were not perfect but I can see how much they did try, how they were fighting their own battles and hardships, how they grew as the aged….and I am no different – though I would like to think I did not repeat their mistakes I am sure I made plenty of my very own 🙂

      • narf77
        Oct 17, 2013 @ 06:55:32

        I guess when you have a reprobate as a parent you are at least able to learn what NOT to do with your own life…gotta look at it positively ;). As a perfectionist mule of a human being I dare say I will be making mistakes right up till I shuffle off to the Pearly Gates but at least they are “my” mistakes. There has to be a degree of satisfaction there 😉

      • quarteracrelifestyle
        Oct 17, 2013 @ 06:58:32

        Lol, absolutely!! All original and daring to be 🙂

        Have a nice day 🙂

  6. teawithhazel
    Oct 17, 2013 @ 08:18:31

    for me new things don’t have a story to tell..they can look good and function well but they lack the ability to capture my imagination the way used objects can..when i touch or even look at a used object i feel a sense of connectedness to the hands, eyes and soul of those who had previous ownership and that connectedness warms my heart..

    thanks to el nacho libre for a thought provoking post..x


    • narf77
      Oct 17, 2013 @ 12:30:35

      El Nacho Libre says “You are welcome” 😉 We love old things as well which is lucky because we are rapidly approaching being “old things” ourselves ;). We inherited a lot of old things from my fathers estate and that of his partner who died before he did. She didn’t have any children or family so dad inherited all of her “worldly goods”. He gave away a lot of her things but there are tins of memories in the form of old buttons, old jewellery that is worthless to anyone but someone who had memories invested in it and lots of bits and bobs that meant something to someone once. That’s why I love going to thrift shops, someone touched those books and loved them, someone cared about those old spoons and who knows what they ate off them…all stories and memories and part of what gives life it’s colour and texture. I think the older we get the more we realise that we “are” memories…that after us there will only BE memories and that memories are where humanity truly lives


  7. christiglover
    Oct 17, 2013 @ 11:37:57

    Wow, I loved this post AND the follow-up conversation. El Nacho plucked a resonant note with his poetry and images — and all the wise women chimed in. I thought of Marcel Proust’s Remembrance of Things Past when El Nacho talked about how “memories are a thing we have stored in different ways” — Proust’s “involuntary memory” (versus voluntary) from the “episode of the madeleine”:

    “No sooner had the warm liquid mixed with the crumbs touched my palate than a shudder ran through me and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary thing that was happening to me. An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses, something isolated, detached, with no suggestion of its origin. And at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory – this new sensation having had on me the effect which love has of filling me with a precious essence; or rather this essence was not in me it was me. … Whence did it come? What did it mean? How could I seize and apprehend it? … And suddenly the memory revealed itself. The taste was that of the little piece of madeleine which on Sunday mornings at Combray (because on those mornings I did not go out before mass), when I went to say good morning to her in her bedroom, my aunt Léonie used to give me, dipping it first in her own cup of tea or tisane. The sight of the little madeleine had recalled nothing to my mind before I tasted it. And all from my cup of tea.”

    —Marcel Proust, In Search of Lost Time

    I love that and hadn’t thought of it in a long time. lol 🙂

    I had a decent childhood and a miserable adolescence and young adulthood. What can you say about a father who will not let go? Control-freak is an understatement. Counseling has helped, as has my father’s death and the support of my sister and mother. The memories still are no fun, but they’re less frequent and so familiar now, I work it through better.

    Thanks good friends. 🙂 Hugs to you both!!


    • narf77
      Oct 17, 2013 @ 12:35:34

      That’s what makes you “YOU” though…if it wasn’t for your dad who couldn’t let go you wouldn’t have been the person that you are today. It has taken me years to learn that lesson…all of the years “wandering in the wilderness” were so I could be right here, right now with Steve on Serendipity Farm living life to the fullest…what price that? The dark years, that’s what price but memories have a way of easing that pain and sending it out into the ether where it belongs…it’s up to us whether we hold on to what other people did/do to us. I released my dad to the ether before he died as after a particularly harrowing episode trying to discuss something with him I had the sudden realisation that he just wasn’t invested in me at ALL. Point blank. A hard lesson to learn but you know what? It was incredibly liberating at the same time. “So be it” was my response and I let him go. Sometimes “So be it” is all we have, we can’t change who or what they are (person or situation) but we CAN choose what we do with it. Hugs right back atcha and thanks for sharing the Proust…Steve wants to buy a beret now and says he needs a stripy scarf to go with it and he has a sudden desire for a cheroot…and one can NEVER have enough wine cheri! 😉


      • christiglover
        Oct 17, 2013 @ 13:03:09

        So true, cheri! “So be it” indeed. I wouldn’t be 21 years old again for a MILLION TRILLION dollars! The 50s rocks. xxxooo

      • narf77
        Oct 18, 2013 @ 03:06:55

        The day I turned 50 I made a choice to make sure I at least had 1 thing a day that I could feel amazing about. I figure it’s all uphill from there 😉

  8. Hannah (BitterSweet)
    Oct 20, 2013 @ 12:20:26

    Different is good! …But I sure do hope you plan on sharing about that marmalade, curd, and pudding all the same.


  9. Chica Andaluza
    Oct 22, 2013 @ 09:41:42

    Very different, very lovely and very poignant…


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