The nabobs that know all insist that most memories are triggered by smells. And while most of us would agree with that assessment (for instance, I can never smell cinnamon without thinking of my mom's cinnamon buns) I think music is what give us detailed trips down memory lane.
When I hear an old-fashioned country and western wailer, I'm once again nine listening to my mom sing along with CJDC's Country and Western Hour while she did the family ironing. I can picture the heavy frost on the less-than-weatherproof windows in our little house in Dawson Creek. I can remember the heavy old quilt my grandma had fashioned out of worn-out wool serge, and I can hear the snores of my younger sister. No scent has ever conjured up that elaborate a memory for me.
To this day, if I hear Credence Clearwater Revival, I instantly think of my sister who died of cancer almost 38 years ago. I can picture her like it's yesterday singing along and watching my toddler son dance to the upbeat tunes. In a summer that was anything but upbeat, it's one of the few happy memories I have.
Whenever I hear a Beatles tune, it takes me back to being young and cool. I close my eyes and see the mop head quartet in their tight suits and skinny ties and remember what life was like before mortgages and kids. For someone who was blessed with two left feet and a voice that could sand steel, I had some mighty fine times singing along with the Fab Four.
Music has another edge over smell - it's always exactly what you remembered. The words don't change, the tune doesn't get musty, and nobody is ever allergic to a piece of music.
If someone ever asks me what music I associate with the Sunshine Coast, the instant answer will have to be the Coast String Fiddlers. I can't begin to count the number of times I have heard them play. From the teeny musicians just big enough to hold a fiddle to the adult mentors who sometimes perform with the youngsters, I think the Fiddlers are our music mascots. They never fail to lift my spirits. The most recent time I heard them play, at the end of June, their spokesperson dedicated one of their songs to Oliver Schroer, a prolific songwriter if ever there was one. Known for writing a song for each of the 59 students he taught to fiddle in Smithers, Schroer was amazing. When his life ended much too soon on July 3, at age 51, his legacy would put almost any other composer to shame. Someday one of the kids he taught to master the fiddle will hear one of Schroer's tunes and instantly be transported back to the day he or she learned from the master. And that really is the power of music.
