{"id":17459,"date":"2022-02-23T00:31:12","date_gmt":"2022-02-23T00:31:12","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/?p=17459"},"modified":"2022-02-22T21:05:06","modified_gmt":"2022-02-22T21:05:06","slug":"nostalgia-or-not","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/2022\/02\/23\/nostalgia-or-not\/","title":{"rendered":"NOSTALGIA OR NOT?"},"content":{"rendered":"

BY JOELLEN COLLINS<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"
JoEllen Collins\u2014a longtime resident of the Wood River Valley\u2014is a teacher, writer, fabric artist, choir member and unabashedly proud grandma known as \u201cBibi Jo.\u201d<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

M<\/span>y almost-13-year-old grandson was looking at a page featuring happy times with his friends in one of the many scrapbooks I have loved creating for Artie and his younger sister, Goldie. As he laughed over some of the silly faces I had caught in my rather unorthodox effort, he said, \u201cNow I know what nostalgia is.\u201d At first, I was surprised by a word not usually part of a preteen\u2019s vocabulary, but then I was able to view so many of the things I enjoy from that perspective.<\/span><\/p>\n

Many might say nostalgia is wasted energy; after all, if we try to live in the moment, how much time is left for reviewing the past? Also, this practice is thought to be reserved primarily for the elderly, especially when we compare our childhood experiences with the young.<\/span><\/p>\n

However, I have discovered later in life that I am, for better or worse, a storyteller. This is a characteristic which I realize is part of wanting to be a compelling teacher, a perfect opportunity to use one\u2019s sense of drama. I also understand, however, that vital communication often comes through sharing one\u2019s memories of experiences both positive and negative. I enjoy recalling the lovely moments of my family life and the adventures I have been fortunate to have through contacts with lifelong friends and interactions with so many citizens of the world. I savor remembering sweet moments of teaching when I could sense a vital flash of understanding from students.<\/span><\/p>\n

I don\u2019t apologize for this time dwelling on past moments. What Artie sensed in his vocabulary was the pleasure of having a happy time brought back through pictures reflecting the goofiness of young boys. So be it.<\/span><\/p>\n

I think that one of the main reasons I so enjoy these bright collections of images caught for my grandchildren is because it is another form of storytelling. Even in my fabric art, which age has limited for me, I told stories. My hand-sewn appliques used bright fabric colors and patterns to symbolize the common joys of people: a family holding each other while sitting on the grass during a vibrant summer day; a couple shaded by palms on a honeymoon, relishing the basket of fruit next to them, relaxing under a bright ocean sun, or anticipating other delightful occasions. <\/span><\/p>\n

At one art fair, I hung my works on clotheslines so they could be seen easily by passersby. I never made a lot of money with these fairs, but I appreciated the camaraderie with my fellow exhibiters and neighbors and meeting with visitors. After a rather dry period with few sales, a group stopped, and they discussed my work. As they left, one woman exclaimed, \u201cNow that is the work of a happy woman!\u201d Few compliments have been as meaningful as that one. I think my use of bright and vivid colors does reflect the life for which I am grateful.<\/span><\/p>\n

Nostalgia or rose-colored glasses? Who cares. I love the brilliant colors my memory captures.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

BY JOELLEN COLLINS My almost-13-year-old grandson was looking at a page featuring happy times with his friends in one of the many scrapbooks I have loved creating for Artie and his younger sister, Goldie. As he laughed over some of the silly faces I had caught in my rather unorthodox effort, he said, \u201cNow I […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":16827,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"tdm_status":"","tdm_grid_status":"","_pvb_checkbox_block_on_post":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2,22],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-17459","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-commentary","8":"category-on-lifes-terms"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17459","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=17459"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17459\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":17461,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17459\/revisions\/17461"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/16827"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=17459"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=17459"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=17459"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}