The Power of Nostalgia

When I was 9 years old, my parents loaded up the car and took me to Cooperstown. I was a huge baseball fan growing up. After school, I would watch the day games at Wrigley field with Ryne Sandberg and Harry Carrey on WGN

Then switch to TBS for Sanford and Sons reruns on TBS as it led up to the Atlanta Braves games with one of my boyhood favorites, Dale Murphy until I had to go to bed. 

We didn’t have cable then and the Red Sox were on NESN, so I was able to explore and fall in love with baseball as a fan of the game not locked into a team which happened later when I followed the family tradition and followed the Red Sox. 

In Cooperstown we stayed in a motel a few blocks away, it is still there. The day we arrived we just walked around, saw Doubleday field, all the main street shops, and other sites around town 

The second day was the day we went to the Baseball Hall of Fame. The shrine for the sport I loved. I was in heaven, I could and still do feel an aura around the town, like the sacred place I believe Cooperstown to be. 

I remember it was the first time I saw the child that was still in my father. That day, he and I were two kids bonding over a game. The hall was much different in 1988, it felt like an endless maze of wonder. 

Believing we had seen everything a few hours later, we left and went back to the hotel to relax. 

It was not long before my father and I were hurriedly walking back to the Hall of Fame to explore it again, leaving my mother at the hotel to rest. 

Our visit was a week or two before the annual induction week, I remember because we made a trip to Larry Fritsche’s baseball card museum where my parents bought me a 1978 Willie Stargell card. The Pirate great was the lone inductee that Summer. 

No vacation is perfect. There were things that didn’t go the way they should have, but my memories have swept the negative away as not important parts of my past. 

Nostalgia was coined in the latter half of the 17th century by Johannes Hofer when Swiss Mercenaries who were fighting in France had extreme homesickness. It was treated as a medical condition. The only cure was to return the mercenaries back home. At the time, it was believed that the cowbells in the pastures had caused brain damage.

A couple of years ago, I returned to Cooperstown with a couple of Brothers following a training session in Albany. The interior of the Hall of Fame had changed considerably but the town itself seemed frozen in time. I saw the same sights I had seen 30 years prior though not the same, I still found a myriad of emotions as I walked Main Street again. 

I found myself taking pictures and sending them to my father. His health had failed, and the trip out was no longer possible for him. Is that what made this memory nostalgic? The fact that it can’t happen again the same way as before. 

Interesting how time plays such a big role in all of this. memories need to mature from the seed of the experience to the full-grown neatly trimmed memories that I treasure today. 

When I decided this was the talk I wanted to present here today, I started to toy with my emotions and search for nostalgic triggers to see what happened. Naturally thinking of baseball first. With the power of YouTube, I could transport back to the exact broadcasts I had seen so long ago. 

October 17, 2004, Kevin Millar drew a walk in the bottom of the 9th inning of the ALCS. Dave Roberts was brought in as a pinch-runner, the world knew he would steal second and there was nothing the Yankees could do. He did, Bill Mueller hit it up the middle, and Robert’s tied the game. There was electricity in the air. 86 years of sorrow turned with that one play. 

This only tied the game that the Red Sox would go on to win in the 12th, There were still 3 more games against the Yankees, and 4 more games in the World Series against the Cardinals for the curse to finally be broken. But it is this play that sticks with me and still stirs emotion in me 17 years later. 

I think every generation has that moment though. For my father, it was when Carlton Fisk waved the ball fair in the 76’ World Series against the Big Red Machine. 

On the negative end of nostalgia, we have Bill Buckner being blamed for game 6 of the world series when Mookie Wilson hit the ball through his legs. Buckner was taunted and hated in Boston for years. Nobody talks about game 7 that the Red Sox could have won. If they had, how much of Buckner’s life would have changed? 

I think these moments become memorable because they universally bring people together. They snap-shot their place in history for those who are a part of it. If you are a Red Sox fan and old enough, you remember these moments and as time passes, they mold with the emotions as nostalgic thoughts.

YouTube algorithms brought me down the baseball rabbit hole to several amazing moments in baseball history. 

In the 1988 World Series Game 1, Kirk Gibson with 2 bad legs wincing in pain, hit a pinch-hit walk-off home run for the win. I appreciate this as one of the great moments in baseball history, but the emotion isn’t stirred as with the plays I mentioned earlier, or maybe the correct word is passion. Maybe passion is a necessary ingredient to create a positive nostalgic memory.

Another recommended nostalgic trigger is music. 

Yes, take me out to the ball game brings back Harry Carrey dangerously hanging out of the announcer’s booth, slurring the words to the song during the 7th inning stretch. Which still puts a smile on my face.

But, for the purpose of this talk, I wanted to search out songs I grew up with.

I went back to when I was 4 or 5 and my mother spent Saturday mornings cleaning the house. She would fire up the silver Realistic Record Player and crank out Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton’s hit “Islands in the Stream”. What is interesting is we moved from that house when I was 5 and I still remember hearing the song. As I listen now, it is a gateway to the past that opens other memories locked in my memory from then.

Music wasn’t big to me again until I was in middle school.

When I was 13, I guess. I found Pearl Jam, Jeremy brought me back to walking home after school in the 8th grade with my Sony cassette Walkman. 

This went into several searches reliving what I recall as easier times. Some songs triggered memories of High School breakups that I would have expected to be bad but weren’t. They brought back positive memories from the time I was with this girl or that. 

In 2008, I went through a divorce, was at or near the bottom, sporadic and lost and remembering the same music left me longing for the past. Like going there would allow me to start over. So, for me at least nostalgia is tied to my current state and emotions. Today, I am living the life I always wanted with the partner I want to spend the rest of my life with. 

After the divorce, I moved home to “start over”. I had lived across the country for 10 years and had not been home at that time.

Coming home, I sought out my High School friends and tried to rekindle past relationships that no longer existed. 

In doing so, I destroyed the nostalgic memories I had had. Some friends I had held up on a pedestal when I left for the military had fallen from grace. 

One friend, Jon, was always there for you, friend in high school. He had the brightest future. His father owned a very successful construction business, and he was on the path to take the helm when I left. 

Somewhere in the 10 years I was gone, Jon had gotten into pain medicine. I had no idea, when we went out, we would have a few drinks and he would fall off the cliff so to speak. This wasn’t the Jon I left. Jon ended up overdosing in 2013 leaving behind a wife and young daughter. 

For a long time, I had mentally ruined our memories because I let the negative seep in. Until, on what would have been Jon’s 38th birthday, in 2016, my daughter Clara was born. Now I hope she is as generous and caring as Jon once was. 

This whole memory came back to me when I listened to one of Jon’s favorite songs from High School, The Crash Test Dummies MMMM MMMM MMMM MMMM song. 

As I put myself through this nostalgic journey, I found myself places I hadn’t thought about in years. All from a few hours on Spotify. 

I found this to be a healing process in some respects. My ashlar is far from perfect, nor will I get there in this lifetime. I’m okay with that; I can put parts of my life to rest with no regrets. I have to accept how the story was laid out because I can’t change it. 

The day I wrote this talk, I found myself in Wrentham, Massachusetts to meet someone for work. There is an apple orchard I had visited for years called the Big Apple, how original. They have fresh produce and baked goods and make an apple turnover the old school way, you know what I mean, butter and lard for the crust and filled with sweet apple love. 

So, I purchased one knowing since it had apples in it, it would be healthy for me. I sat in my car and took my time savoring every bite and letting myself be transported back to my Grand Parent’s mobile home on holidays when the whole family would squeeze in to enjoy a feast. 

My GrandFather was from Tennessee and would cook green beans in the salt back which is a salted hunk of pig fat. The mobile would be rich with smells and warmth from the oven and stove on. The sounds were family banter and laughter, each family member had a distinct laugh. 

Following dinner, my GrandMother would fire up the percolator with coffee and start cutting the apple pie. Funny, I can remember many meals at the dining room table, but interestingly, I don’t recall any specific gift I opened for Christmas. I know I opened several each year and was excited to do so, yet my mind was smart enough to capture what really mattered even at a young age.

These are cherished memories, my Grandparents are gone, the mobile home sold and was demolished a couple of years ago, the family does not get together anymore outside of funerals.  

I’m okay with it, because, when I need to go back to see their faces or hear their laughter, it is always right here. An apple pie or block of salt back away. As the smells waft into my nose, I know it will transport me back.

When my GrandMother passed away in 2013, I had volunteered to clean out her apartment since my aunts and uncles are advanced in age. In the freezer, my GrandMother had frozen some of her famous meatballs. A few weeks later, when I was home alone one day, I ate them on the couch and bawled my eyes out. 

It wasn’t because I would never have her cooking again though I thought it was at the time. It was a chapter that had closed for me. 

Life progresses and we are just here to play our part and say our lines. I have since recreated the meatballs and have been able to watch my daughter eat them which is a way of passing the torch if you will. 

I will say that digging up nostalgia should be done in moderation, nostalgia is not meant to be re-lived but remembered. We can’t recreate what we had the way we had it. It will never be the same. 

To have nostalgia, you need time to lapse. For the seed to grow, so to speak. How will technology interfere or help us with this? Every baseball game, song, and old tv show is available 24/7. Will our memories be forgotten long enough to become nostalgic?

I believe the future of nostalgia falls on us to create the memories that one day will be that nostalgic portal that brings you back to today.

In 2017, a newly raised Mason from this area jumped in a car and came to my lodge for Masonic Con. He made friends and brought the experiences back to New York. There were several more trips, conversations, and speaking engagements. Nathan Tweedie took his experiences and created the event we are at today. 

When we created the original Masonic Con, this wasn’t even on our radar. We wanted to just do something different combining as many aspects as we could in a one-day event. We did just that, everyone had a great day and talked about it for some time after. 

We had no idea the seeds we had planted. Like Americans do, other Masons took the idea and put their spins on it. Brothers in Virginia created a more esoteric version with esotericon, Brothers in South Pasadena built one around pop culture, Brothers in Chicago became the oasis for Masonic Education last September during the pandemic when they held their Masonic Con. 

Through events like this, bonds have been formed that will last the rest of our lives. Year after year, I have become close to people across the country. Last May, I had a dozen brothers and their wives in my house the night before my last Masonic Con. There is an esoteric emotion that I can’t explain. 

John Koenig, author of the dictionary of Obscure Sorrows coined the word Dès Vu: The Awareness That This Will Become a Memory. 

This has become my goal. Creating the environment to foster the possibility that an event can become powerful enough to grow into a nostalgic moment. Not just in Freemasonry but everywhere. Especially my own house. I’ve given up on buying my daughter toys and meaningless material. Replacing that with experiences she can look back on when I’m gone with a smile. 

In June, we had scheduled a family day where we went to Block Island which is a popular destination in Rhode Island. My wife, daughter, and I grabbed an early ferry which was exciting for her. Walked around and found a farm where the owner, now deceased, had collected unique animals. We found ourselves petting a Yak that certainly seemed appreciative of the attention. 

I realize my thoughts on nostalgia have evolved and it is clear to me that memories mature and become what we want them to mean we need to allow this to happen and not dwell on how you may have done something different to avert pain. 

Pain is a powerful emotion. Many of the most creative people are fueled by pain and let it inspire them. As bad as an event may have been it is our path. If you erased that painful moment, what else would have changed in your life? 

I’ve had my share of life events that went horrible and at the time were close to unbearable. Looking back, I see they were teaching moments to make me the person I am today. 

I strive to create experiences, not to let a day go by where I don’t try to do something that at least has the potential to create a memory. 

We must understand most humans forget about 50% of new information in 1 hour and that goes up to 70% after 24 hours. 

For me, this has been my focus as a Freemason. Create an experience that is not just a meeting or event but an experience that raises the bar and releases dopamine into your system. Impactful so people are sorry it is over. 

I challenge you to do the same whether it is a relatives birthday party or a major event in your town. It isn’t the event it is what you bring to it. 

Think about the power we have over people’s memories just in the experiences we create. Each person will form their own memories, but it is our efforts that can help curb that memory that some day when triggered will put a smile on the face of an old man. 

Thank You,