It never seizes to amaze me how different colors, tastes, smells, and sounds can take us back to an event in our lives long forgotten. Its astounding how we can recall events with such clarity, though sometimes our memories are tainted with the hue of the dominant emotion we may have felt at the time. We look at our present through the memories of our past experiences.Scanning through different stations on the radio, it seems like all the stations are playing the same songs. A particular tune catches my attention and I wait to hear the lyrics. Its Barbara Striesand singing one of her hits from the seventies, the song’s title is ‘memories’. Speaking of which, my mind drifts off to the time when I was four years old and unable to sleep at night, I had sneaked out of my room to see whether anyone was up, to find my parents sitting with dimmed lights, listening to this same song. I remember thinking then that they were being romantic, and I was not supposed to be there. Feeling left out; I quickly started to complain of a fake stomachache and how I needed someone to read me a story to be able to sleep. It was a fruitless endeavor, I was sent to bed - no story - just a lecture on how all the good children must be asleep and I was still up.I relate the story to my brother, who is complaining about why I’m listening to such ancient music and should put his ‘hip hop’ station on. He changes the station. My thoughts are rudely interrupted by a man making, what sounds to me like a barbaric yawp, but is music to the ears of my seventeen year old brother. I tune out the unpleasant sounds and start to realize how memories have a powerful impact on our lives. Recollections of my parent’s relationship and how I was raised influence me more than I would like to believe. As children, how we see grown-ups behave around us shape our ideas about interacting in similar relationships. To a certain exte...
