The Lens Of A Lifetime
The view can be different for everyone, depending on the angle
By Ron Ciancutti
Now and then I mention some little illustrations to my 16 grandchildren. The habit developed while raising my five kids, coming from my romantic “poet’s” heart (for which I am often accused).
© Can Stock Photo / rdonar
My earliest recollection goes back to kindergarten in 1965, when my teacher—a very artistic lady who dressed colorfully and treated us kids as equals—wore a pair of earrings one day that looked like mini-globes. I was fascinated by them and her. My parents were generally conservative, so this woman represented another side of “adults.” As time went by and I experienced other things new, I recalled this picture of her and the dangling planet earths. It wasn’t a crush; it was an icon.
Visual Memories
These word/picture associations became a collage of my life, and the older I was the more I realized it. For example, my dad frequently worked the “graveyard shift” at the factory. As I left for school, he came home and went to bed. For years I envisioned the driveway of our house as he and I passed each other every morning: one in and one out. It’s stuck in my head even today.
The school colors at my junior high school were yellow and blue—like those of the Los Angeles Rams. To this day, when I drive past that building, I see the Rams’ royal-blue helmet with the yellow horns on the side.
And I have collected plenty of others:
The Cleveland Browns = Cleveland Municipal Stadium (I can even smell it).
Vacations = A big swimming pool.
Christmas = The decorated mantle in my childhood home.
Employment = My big antique desk.
Italian food = Marlon Brando in The Godfather.
I could go on, but you get the idea.
Lock It In
As years passed, I further developed a habit of sharing these iconic thoughts with my friends. When my team won the Little League championship, I told everyone at the party afterwards to close their eyes and remember the stunned look on the last batter’s face when he struck out on three pitches. “Don’t ever forget that moment, guys!” They cheered and smiled, but more than a few asked me later why I said that. I really didn’t know, but I knew I had to share it.
After a day at an amusement park or a school dance, or while performing in band concerts or marching at halftime, there I was, yelling, “Everybody, get that picture in your mind of the director being handed the trophy! Close your eyes! Got it? Don’t ever forget!” I felt compelled to remind others to hold on to the most memorable moments of their lives. As I look through my old photo albums, I find I took a few pictures and then had a total stranger snap one of me so I could be “in” the memory, recalling how I looked at the time, what I was wearing, what the weather was like, etc.
Different Perspectives
As I became an adult, husband, and father, that habit was modified. When a moment became a treasure to share, I stopped assuming that others were having the same experience. I told my wife, “Did you see the pastor blush when he announced us as man and wife? Lock that in your memory forever, babe. It was a great moment.” But, as I aged, I realized those moments were individual experiences. Maybe my wife had a different special moment from that day.
I picture in my mind my three little girls hanging on so tightly to me when we entered a haunted house that my sweater was stretched two sizes larger by the time we exited. We laughed so hard that night. I know we will remember it always. But I also know we may remember the event differently. I was laughing, but they were terrified.
I remember saying to my son after a football game, “Three touchdowns in one night? Son, you got a scholarship written all over you! Don’t ever lose your memory of this incredible night.” As he was being cheered and applauded, I bet the last thing on his mind was a scholarship. Same moment, different experience.
Courtesy Of Ron Ciancutti
So, now, with my kids’ minds full of moments and magical memories, I’ve become less instructional. I let them have their own version of the moment. I do remind them it IS a moment they will want to recollect someday. And that’s how I talk with my grandkids now. I simply ask, “Did you take a picture for your passport?” To which they all respond, “I sure did, Papa.” Now and then one will add, “And you are in the picture too, Papa.”
(sniff)
Whenever I take photos, I try to add a little “drama,” so anyone glancing at the shots can “feel” that something is going on. From “Mom canning tomatoes” to “I love my granddaughter,” the shot IS the memory. It’s “vitamin enriched.”
Those are the stamps you should fill your passport with. The colorful moments. The colorful pictures. The colorful days. Your colorful life! Fill several volumes if you can. Live a big life!
Ron Ciancutti worked in the parks and recreation industry since he was 16 years old, covering everything from maintenance, operations, engineering, surveying, park management, design, planning, recreation, and finance. He is now retired. He holds a B.S. in Business from Bowling Green State University and an M.B.A. from Baldwin Wallace University. He is not on Facebook, but he can be reached at ron@northstarpubs.com.