The Unfolding of Memory

You could call me a hoarder but it seems that actually I am something of an archivist. I think I have kept almost every letter I have ever received before e-mails came and made letters redundant. But I also kept other kinds of souvenirs, like: a list of what my younger brother and I were planning to take on our voyage into outer space circa 1952!

Recently I decided it was time for a clear out. I've transported all this stuff across three continents without discarding almost anything. Going through my collection of papers, letters and photographs, I was at first disappointed at how little I felt I was able to throw out. But over time I've started to enjoy the process of discovering my younger selves. I contacted some old friends whom I'd forgotten, when I found information about them among my papers, and I managed to interest an archivist at the University of Cape Town Special Collections to take leaflets, newsletters and press cuttings from my undergraduate years.

The Scarf
I found a scarf I have had since I was at least a teenager and kept and can never remember wearing. It's a terrible colour for me! I was going to give it to the bric-a-brac shop at Oasis Recycling, when I decided to take a proper look at it i.e. unfold it. It has photos of movie stars from the 40's on it and some of their signatures, with a central photographic motif which says "Warners - Twentieth Anniversary of Talking Pictures". So, it was printed around 1949 then. 70 years ago!! I began to be curious about its origins. It was a bit like being at The Antiques Roadshow!

I had a feeling that it was perhaps the first "feminine" present I ever had and that was probably why I'd kept it. The most likely person to have given it to me was my Aunt Vera. She was beautiful, stylish, was great with presents and she liked me. There is another signature on it: Carli Gry. He started a fashion house in Denmark in the 40's. About two weeks later and not expecting much, I wrote to the company that bought the label some years ago, asking if they had any information about the scarf.
I was surprisingly thrilled to get a reply that same day:

  

Thank you for your e-mail, such wonderful pictures on the scarf.

I am amazed that the scarf has kept in such good condition, and am also curious as to how it ended up all the way down at the tip of Africa.

I will forward your email to one of our former employees, who may be able to tell us some more.

Thanks again for your e-mail, and have a lovely afternoon.

Later on my evening walk, it suddenly all came back to me - I remembered why I'd kept it and what it represented for me. Something about this process (of recovering memories by going for a walk) made me think of Francine Shapiro (a psychologist who originated the practice of EMDR to process traumatic memory). After receiving a serious medical diagnosis, she had gone for a walk, felt better and thereby discovered the importance of bilateral stimulation as an adjunct to therapy. In contrast, I had performed an action, I was feeling pleased with the result, and so my walk resulted in the recovery of a memory redolent with the associated feelings, that I doubt I was fully able to experience at the time.

Yes, it was Auntie Vera who gave me the scarf but there was a lot more to it. I was about 13 - I was at boarding school in Johannesburg. I usually only saw my parents once a year when I went home to Cape Town for the summer holidays. Half terms and other holidays I spent at various relatives in Johannesburg. Some of the girls in my class asked the Principal if we could have a barn dance in the school hall on a Saturday night. She agreed - I don't think such an event had ever happened before. Day girls would invite boys that they knew. It would be my first dance with boys! What would I wear? Just the thought of my teenage angst and awkwardness about this brings tears as I write. Who could I ask for help? I agonized about it for days. I didn't think the aunt I saw most frequently would really understand my predicament. Could I ask Auntie Vera?

l.to.r. my mother, me, Auntie Vera, my sister

Since she'd been widowed a few years before I had hardly seen her. Even so, I took a risk and wrote to her - it felt outrageous. I am sure I included something disloyal about the other aunt in order to explain my reason for writing.

Reader, it may not surprise you but it did me, she came up trumps! I don't think she had ever been to a barn dance in her life - she was a German refugee - but she really entered into the spirit of it. On a weekday afternoon when we were allowed visits, she brought a few outfits she'd taken on appro for me to try on. I remember vividly what we chose - a red and white checked gingham blouse with a full navy skirt which had a white applique design - all suitably casual - and the movie scarf which she tied cleverly around my neck. I stood on a bed to try to see how it looked in the one small mirror we had in the dormitory. I loved what I could see of it, and if she was happy with the way it looked, so was I! Although I wasn't able to fully acknowledge how much I felt she had rescued me that day, I kept the scarf as a token of it. One day maybe I would be able to feel what it meant.

Later I found the actual invitation! Note the age requirement for boys.