Sentimentalism

June 29th, 2023

Last year I took a detour completely on the spur of the moment. Then I got lost along the way, but then I found myself deep in the forest at a crossroads that looked familiar. It was familiar because I was looking for a familiar place — a summer camp where I spent 8 summers in a row when I was in grammar school. In a flash, my memories came back to me, and I had a clear geographical placement of my whereabouts. I turned right and shortly was at the place I was looking for. It didn’t look at all like I remembered. First of all — it was much smaller than it was in my memories. Or maybe I got bigger? Also, the familiar buildings were gone and new ones were put in place there — it was no longer a summer camp for kids, but an exclusive B&B and Spa. The (heavy) gate was down and there were (expensive) cars parked behind it, so I knew better than to engage in blatant trespass. But a light trespass was definitely possible. And it was tempting. I went back off the road and walked between the trees to the lake and then followed the shore until I got to the property. I didn’t see anybody around, so I jumped a small fence, and then a deep astonishment hit me — looking from a different angle, I immediately recognized the place. The boat dock, the tennis and basketball courts, the boat storage place, the bonfire pit — they were still in the same places as I remembered. Deep emotions overwhelmed me as I stood there looking around and suddenly and clearly remembering long-forgotten memories and faces and names attached to those faces. I didn’t linger for long and went back with a head full of scraps of remembering innocent fun that I had there. Even a year later, I am still moved by this emotion from that day.

I am sentimental like that. I get or grow attached to places and people and memories and singular moments that, for whatever reason, stay with me connected to a particular place. I like to visit places again that once were dear and important or significant to me. For many years, those visits were painful, since usually they were a reminder of better and simpler times — and yet, paradoxically, that never stopped me. Now, my approach is quite different — I can mute bad experiences and don’t do any comparing to where I am now in relation to the past. I take with me only the good and happy and irrelevant. The significance (either good or bad) stays with me as a motive for action but not as a constant nagging or regret. Seems that I got better at the balanced reining of my emotions, but I still let my sentiments be solid and lasting.