Suddenly, out of the blue, something occurs that triggers off your memory mechanism and fires the neurons involved in the original experience.
You can't hear them, but they travel effortlessly, noiselessly across the vast emptiness that separates their world from ours. They creep into the optical fibre cables that criss cross their way into our homes and then, as if by magic, a miracle of modern technology converts them into an intelligible language and they come splashing out in alpha-numerical codes across our PC screen.
You can't hear them, but they travel effortlessly, noiselessly across the vast emptiness that separates their world from ours. They creep into the optical fibre cables that criss cross their way into our homes and then, as if by magic, a miracle of modern technology converts them into an intelligible language and they come splashing out in alpha-numerical codes across our PC screen.
Recently, in the last couple of years in fact, I went through this process three times. The original events occurred several decades ago and the memories came flooding back, bringing with them deep feelings of fondness and love and friendship, as the sound of laughter rang in my ears. But then again melancholy appeared and feelings of sadness and nostalgia crept in and an occasional tear escaped. Doesn’t time fly!
Technology! That’s what did it; modern technology in the shape of computers and associated tools and utilities such as facebook, twitter, linkedin, blogs, etc. If your name appears anywhere, you’re sure to be found!
The first one to trace me, about two years ago, was my best man – at my wedding! I hadn’t seen him since shortly after I got married, and though we corresponded for a year or two we soon lost contact as we both emigrated and got on with our separate lives.
Soon after, I got a mail from a woman asking me if I was the boy she’d played with when she was a teen in an African republic. I’d been there during the summer and was about 17 at the time. We were neighbours and did spend a lot of time together, swimming and partying, and generally behaving the way colonial kids behave. The holiday came to an end and I went back home to school. She stayed on with her family and later emigrated to another continent..
Finally, a few weeks ago, I got the shock of my life when I read a comment in my blog. Initially, I didn’t realise who it was from, but a second comment left me in no doubts. Someone, a very special someone, had read one of my posts and got in touch.
Now, so many years after we all parted, a new kind of contact has been restored, electronically, via email. Stories and pictures are exchanged and we reminisce about the experiences we shared and tell each other about the lives we lead. Hopefully in the future, meetings can be arranged and visits organised.
I thought I’d try and trace some of my school friends and work colleagues and found one big drawback: most girls of course have got married and changed their surnames!
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