Wednesday, September 14, 2011
The mysteries of the teenage mind or otherwise; they so define the changing being that is my son. There are so different from the mysteries of the minds of the old.
Primus was placed on a bus this morning to head off to Stratford, ON to see Richard III by Wm. Shakespeare. It was part of a high school English class boondoggle. Primus has been to Stratford on many occasions. Into his pocket I shoved $25 CDN and gave him advice on the exchange rate. We are on the losing side of that proposition right now.
Despite his numerous stops in Stratford he had no clue as to where he was headed. I mentioned the odd five point intersection. No recall. I mentioned the high street and the river street and the stairs that ran from one to another betwixt the store facades. Nope that didn’t jog any remembrance. It was not until I mentioned two places, the science store Quark Soup and the toy store with the bugs and air cannons. Restaurants, ice cream stores, etc., did not jog the memories but a toy store that sold some miniature plastic ants and a science store where he bought a plushie of the mad cow pathogen these illuminated his memory. At that point he knew the place.
It was at this point he did remember the lamb curry they served in Bentley’s. Ah the synapses must first be fired by the joys of toys and then the food memories come back. Although I didn’t think of it until know if I had mentioned the fine china shop with the five or six cats that roam freely among the plates and tureens that too might have awaked him to a sense of place.
I am old. The stars by which I steer and remember the paths of my journeys are restaurants and pubs where good repast was had or museums and places deemed by others mostly to have “significance”. My son is young and he steers by reminiscences of simpler joys.
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