*The images in this post are all personal family photos*
You turn on the radio in the car and hear a song you awkwardly moved your body to at your first school dance. Suddenly, you're transported back to that dingy cafeteria or gym the school's PTA and staff attempted to turn into a wonderland getaway. The key word here is “attempted.”
Though you've probably experienced better times, it likely will still make you giggle and remind you of a care-free time you were untethered to the responsibilities that come with living in the real world.
This is nothing other than "nostalgia." While there are several definitions explaining what this word means, Oxford Languages defines nostalgia as "a sentimental longing or wistful affection for the past, typically for a period or place with happy personal associations."
To me, this accurately sums up how I feel when I begin to reminisce and think back on certain blissful periods of my life. I've realized that these reminiscing moments don't occur at random or by coincidence but instead by the awakening of one or a combination of my 5 senses can catapult me into this state.
I practice and preach the importance of gratitude for the past, present, and future, and today, I wanted to write about experiences from my childhood that continue to bring me a great sense of joy.
In film and television, our community is so used to seeing Black children solely being represented with harsh childhoods and heartbreaking storylines. While this unfortunately is the reality for many of us, I wanted to take the time today to acknowledge and praise the healthy characteristics of Black families.
Here are five nostalgic memories, relating to my paternal grandparents, that are consistently heightened through my 5 senses:
Cornbread with a Bowl of Beans & Rice (Taste)-
Believe it or not, the simple everyday act of eating dinner inspired me to write this post.
I had just finished preparing dinner for my family: baked chicken, collard greens, and you guessed it, beans, rice, and cornbread. And, there it was—my next post idea.
As a child, I was obnoxiously picky when it came to food. But, through watching my grandmother create magic in the kitchen, I slowly became interested in eating more than just Arby's mashed potatoes and gravy. I played in her pots and pans as a small toddler. Then, as I grew a bit older, I started helping her cook for the family. Cornbread quickly became my favorite thing to eat with every meal—this sweet, soft, yet gritty southern side lured me in again and again. Beans, rice, and cornbread are all southern staples and ones my grandmother frequently whipped up alongside proteins, like fried pork chops and oxtails.
So, as I ate that bowl of beans and rice with a bite of cornbread, I vividly envisioned my grandparent's orange kitchen countertops and brown wood cabinets—the beginnings of my passion for food and cooking.
Kettle Corn at the Flea Market (Smell)-
My grandfather would always take my sister, Tiffani, our cousin, Anthony, and I down with him to the flea market in Tampa. We usually went before stopping at the pool supply store to get chlorine tablets for my grandfather to put into their pool (another smell that takes me back and reminds me of splashing around every summer in their backyard.)
Tables and tables of knickknacks, hand-made jewelry, Avon lotions, body washes, and perfumes, and even puppies could all be found at the flea market. Although, we hardly ever purchased much, we surely enjoyed browsing through all the different goodies and people watching. Typically, you could also pick up tasty snacks, such as boiled peanuts, candied pecans, and our Flea Market favorite, kettle corn. Ahhh, I can smell it now—a sugary, buttery, and corny delight. It was a delicious treat, but sharing it with my Papa, Big Ant, and sissy made it that much more delectable.
Years and years later, it never fails; anytime that inviting scent makes its way into my nostrils, I can see my grandfather's wide smile, happier than ever to spend the day with his grandchildren.
The Call of My Name by an Elderly Southern Black Woman (Hear)-
Miriam, my grandmother, was a hilarious lady, a true character. She'd get on you for just about anything. You were sure to make her holler out your name for going into the fridge without telling her first, not cleaning your plate (by eating everything she put on it,) or searching for words in her crossword puzzles books without asking.
Her high pitched, but soulful voice still rings in my ears to this day. She'd loudly and sternly shout, "Courtney, turn the TV for me," "Courtney, what you goin' in that fridge for," and "Courtney, help me work this computer!" The funniest part is that whenever she mentioned a "computer," 9 times out of 10 she was really referencing a cell phone.
Now that you have the backstory, I recently told an elderly southern Black woman I would do a favor for her. Well, unfortunately I got caught up with some work tasks and completely forgot all about what she had asked of me. To my surprise, she arrived at my office. Before I could even see her with my eyes, I heard a firm request from outside the doors, "Courtney, come out here!" I immediately sprang up out of my chair and ran out the door, as if the building was on fire. When I returned back to my desk, I lightly chuckled to myself. I realized she sounded just like my grandmother, causing me to jump up to acknowledge her and be at her service.
Carnival Rides & Lights (Sight)-
Every February, Florida holds an out of this world state fair. My grandfather would always purchase tickets in advance, and my family would literally count down the days to the start of the annual event. My grandparents, parents, Tiffani, Anthony, and I would go each year. So, it became the ultimate family outing and tradition, since I was a baby.
As usual, the carnival features fun booth games, circus shows and performances, petting zoos, and fun outrageous food creations. Our most loved treats were giant turkey legs, foot long corndogs, funnel cakes, candy and caramel apples, and strawberry shortcake with a refreshing cup of ice cold, fresh squeezed lemonade on the side.
What always stood out more than anything about the fair, compared to regular amusement parks, was the unique carnival rides. Our favorites were the Ferris Wheel, Tilt-A-Whirl, Loop-O-Plane, the Scrambler, and the list goes on and on. Yes, you can find some of these rides at your local amusement park, but they usually aren’t as done up as they are at the fair with bright colorful lights that can be seen from miles away. Though the carnival had these lights lit up all throughout the day, it was more of an enchanting sight to see in the evening. Because of this, we would usually stay all day just to see them light up the night sky.
Even as an adult, something I adore to do is to go to county and state fairs. Heck, I’ll even take a small mall carnival over nothing. Each time I go to any carnival, I feel like that same starry-eyed little girl at the Florida State Fair—a true utopia.
Brushing My Grandmother’s Hair (Touch)-
Anytime I’d visit my grandparents, one of the first things I’d do, other than eat whatever incredible meal my grandmother had cooked, is ask my grandma if I could brush her hair.
She would always say yes, and she’d proceed to take all the bobby pins out of her hair, letting it down from her signature side up-do hairstyle. Then, she would pull out her small bristle brush and comb and hand them over to me.
At the start of my brushing, she would be focused on watching one of her go-to shows, whether it be Judge Mablean, Price Is Right, Jerry Springer, or Girlfriends. Running the comb through her mid-length permed gray hair was so therapeutic for me. Honestly, it must have been quite relaxing for her too because each time she would fall asleep. Just as she would drift off to sleep, I would just so happen to get the comb caught and completely entangled in her hair. This usually was my que to quietly tip-toe away. Eventually, she’d get up, untangle her hair, and surprisingly, she’d never say a word about what I had done.
As a mother of a 5 year old boy now, I’m tasked to wash, condition, brush, and style his hair. Because he is so tender headed, he usually screams throughout the entire session. Oh, and trust me, I never get the comb stuck in his coils. Nonetheless, it still reminds me of brushing and styling my grandma’s hair, a memory I will cherish for the rest of my life.
Can you relate to any of these nostalgic memories I detailed above? Do you have any of your own that are specifically ignited through your 5 senses? If so, be sure to share them in the comments!
