It’s strange the things we learn that stick. I can remember all the words to Roberts Frost “Nothing Gold Can Stay” because we were assigned the poem to memorize in 8th grade, but I still don’t remember how many OZ are in a L. I can recite the whole Pledge of Allegiance in Latin (Fidem miam obligo, vexillo quitatium americae… I’m going to stop there because while I remember it verbally, the spelling will only get worse. Thank goodness Mrs. Robbins probably doesn’t read this), but I have to do the math from 1961 to figure out how old my parents are.
On Instagram, I posted a picture of Rider that had a lot of yellow accents in the nature background and without fail, “Natures first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf’s a flower, but only so an hour”. Between memorized poems and the lyrics to Spice Girls and Evanescence songs, I’m surprised there is room for me to learn anything new. Yet every day I find a new piece of information worms its way in. Sometimes it’s useful information, like the boundaries of a construction zone on the freeway with a reduced speed limit, and sometimes it’s the latest celebrity gossip overheard on the radio that makes great casual work conversation. Brains are always learning, even when you think they’re more than filled to capacity, somehow one more thing works its way in.
In spite of this, or maybe because of it, nothing stays new. Everything loses its novelty and wonder and it forces us to evaluate if it’s wonderful because it’s new or wonderful for its content. The first few times I’d find Rider fur attached to my clothes while I was at work, it was a glorious surprise. Now I just accept that there is always Rider fur on or about my person and that doesn’t decrease the joy I experience in seeing it. I could do with maybe eating less of it, but extra collagen? Or maybe fiber… what dark magic exists in dog fur that makes eating it acceptable?
If you tell me there is none, I’ll simply ignore you until you agree with me. Best just to agree with me, it’s worked out so far so good for Michael.
Now, we’ve established that I like finding fur on my clothing and I have determined eating Rider fur is an acceptable part of my life, where does my “Eden sank to grief” so to speak? (If you don’t know what I’m talking about, Google the poem. It’s two stanzas, I believe in you. You can read it and this whole thing will make a ton more sense. I’ll wait.) (You’re back? Fantastic! I rarely take leafs for granted, but I digress.) When I am watching TV and find that I’m just re-watching all the episodes of Bob’s Burgers for the 17th time, I want to try new shows. Yet I know they will only get taken from me. Like Agent Carter, Birds of Prey, Castle and The Muppet’s. Nothing stays new, eventually networks take away what you love and all that is left is fan fiction of what might have been. Same is true of jokes. What is hilarious the first time is annoying and lacks imagination the 200th time. Yet I can revisit the same book in writing or as an audio book an innumerable amount of times and still find myself giggling at the jokes or squirming in the parts that remind me I was once an awkward, head strong adolescent (cough Harry Potter Cough).
Some stuff is forever. It will always make you happy (even if you find yourself taking it for granted from time to time). Like dog fur, long hugs from people you love, Pumpkin Spice coffee, and Stephanie Plum novels read by Lorelei King. Some gold fades, like the magic of a new relationship fades into the comfort of a well-worn sweater. A favorite series in prime time becomes the best friend you binge-watch on re-runs over and over. Some leaves fall off the tree and create autumn magic memories, like clothes you donate to Goodwill and friends from high school you lost touch with.
There is beauty in change. Any change, even small, has grace and beauty and maybe it’s not “new” forever, but it doesn’t mean it never mattered. Appreciate the dog fur on your clothes, Taylor Swifts new Lover Album (even if you do so alone in a closet while denying you ever heard of it), and running your finger along the spine of well-loved books. Nothing gold can stay, but it doesn’t really need to.
Maybe nothing new can stay because of the adrenaline rush that comes with new always fades. Or that Novelty(cap. on purpose) allows you to learn new things, because your brain is on alert. But as things become familiar, it can allow for a deeper type of learning. So, once you get past having to think about how old your parents are, maybe your brain allows a compare and contrast of some kind, or allows the information to be transformed into something different.
Which reminds me…. how old are you anyway? ???