Thanks for this post, Rachielle. And I love the doodles that are helping you to remember and appreciate these things from your childhood! It's also interesting for me to think about what sounds, smells and rituals (if any) punctuate one's memories -- and how these things might go into shaping a person as they age. I have nothing like church bells to remember from my youth. The closest I can come to that is the sound of the train rumbling by on the railroad tracks very near our house, at night; the squeal of breaks as it stopped near the cannery across the street from us, and the sound of produce being loaded into the cars. It would've been very different if our family had remained in San Francisco, where we lived just a block away from the church I was baptized at near Chinatown.
Thank you for the comment, Jean. Those sounds you described brought back a flood of memories when I visited Cannery Row back in 2008 for a family road trip. I was on a John Steinbeck roll and was rereading East of Eden. I first read the book when I was in the Philippines as a 16-year old (for my high school book report), so it was a far-off land. When I passed the "golden brown mountains" of Northern California, I felt rooted to the story. On that trip, we also went to San Francisco, and I remembered this corner where there was a Catholic Church (St. Mary's, I think) near Little Italy. We visited City Lights Bookstore, took a turn and suddenly, we were in Chinatown! We walked into a hole in a wall, and to this day, I think of that chicken noodle soup, the best I have ever tasted in my life.
Wow, amazing how all the sensory details come up from these memories! I was actually living in Santa Cruz as a kid, but there was a direct (rail) connection to Salinas Valley and Monterey.
Thanks for this post, Rachielle. And I love the doodles that are helping you to remember and appreciate these things from your childhood! It's also interesting for me to think about what sounds, smells and rituals (if any) punctuate one's memories -- and how these things might go into shaping a person as they age. I have nothing like church bells to remember from my youth. The closest I can come to that is the sound of the train rumbling by on the railroad tracks very near our house, at night; the squeal of breaks as it stopped near the cannery across the street from us, and the sound of produce being loaded into the cars. It would've been very different if our family had remained in San Francisco, where we lived just a block away from the church I was baptized at near Chinatown.
Thank you for the comment, Jean. Those sounds you described brought back a flood of memories when I visited Cannery Row back in 2008 for a family road trip. I was on a John Steinbeck roll and was rereading East of Eden. I first read the book when I was in the Philippines as a 16-year old (for my high school book report), so it was a far-off land. When I passed the "golden brown mountains" of Northern California, I felt rooted to the story. On that trip, we also went to San Francisco, and I remembered this corner where there was a Catholic Church (St. Mary's, I think) near Little Italy. We visited City Lights Bookstore, took a turn and suddenly, we were in Chinatown! We walked into a hole in a wall, and to this day, I think of that chicken noodle soup, the best I have ever tasted in my life.
Wow, amazing how all the sensory details come up from these memories! I was actually living in Santa Cruz as a kid, but there was a direct (rail) connection to Salinas Valley and Monterey.