So I’m a bit behind on the whole Netflix thing and it’s only been about a month since I got started watching “Stranger Things.”
In S2 there’s some close-ups of a white 3 Musketeers bar wrapper with a picture of the Musketeers on it.
When I saw it I swore I had seen that style of logo in the very early 90s but unless they carried on using it for the fun size versions a little longer, best evidence I have is that it wasn’t used after 1988. By 89 they seem to have gone to a chrome wrapper without the Musketeers on it.
I would have been 4. I don’t know if I would have been allowed a whole candy bar at that age.
I think I do remember this commercial from that year though. I remember it because the 57 Chevy was one of the first classic cars I could recognize.
I haven’t been updating much because I haven’t been remembering anything from past lives, nor have I been keen on allowing myself to believe in such things. I tend to bury any thoughts or feelings or memory fragments from before 1984 because it’s just too painful to think about. I would rather believe, at this stage of my life, that it was all self-deception.
But I do occasionally throw memory fragments from my present life, from the mid 80s to the early 90s, a time period that’s becoming more and more distant as we lurch into the 2020s.
So I will start recording memories of my present life prior to 9/11/01 in hopes that I will keep this blog useful for something.
I won’t spill my whole life story though. If anything it will be full of little stabs of nostalgia and anamnesis of small things. A Proustian project.
Maybe the reader might understand who I am presently and how that relates to who I might have been. Alternatively, it might shed light on little things that helped me unknowingly confabulate past lives.
So let’s start with something innocuous on our search for lost time. A vacuum cleaner. Specifically, a dark blue Eureka Princess canister vacuum probably bought for my parents as a wedding gift in 1983. We took it with us to Torrejon, Spain. I remember riding it as a toddler. I remember the noise it made when you covered the inlet. I remember, as an older child, learning what the word “eureka” meant from a conversation with Mom started by this vacuum. I remember it being relegated to garage duty when Mom bought a gray plastic upright vacuum in the 90s. It finally died and was discarded in the mid to late 90s, little more than a rusty shell.
I had forgotten it, until by free association in a conversation with a dear friend, I remembered it spontaneously today. A memory fragment from childhood, a minor but constant background prop from my formative years.
Here’s one that cheated the years. Ours was the same color.