At one point in time, and this is a funny memory; the word around was that the owner had pre-emptively put a Warriors Championship t-shirt on the rack. This may have been the year following a Warriors championship. I don't know & can't quite call it.
It may have been the season when the Dubs broke the record for wins in a single season, previously held by Michael Jordan’s Chicago Bulls. I think the Warriors only lost 9 games that season. While Chicago’s record was only 10 losses during regular season play; when they set the record in the 90s, in a season when this Chicago team would go on to win the ‘ship. Ice the cake and throw back the champagne.
Long story longer, this corner store was my go-to for all things snack and drink related for a number of years. So naturally, I also supported their apparel arm of the business. Over the years I accumulated and donated a plethora of Warriors, 49ers and San Francisco Giants gear. And it's a corner store, these aren't exactly Gucci edition Dubs championship shirts. All to the good though, it isn't the shoes you're walking in that matter; it's where you're going in them. When I'm wearing a Warriors shirt there's just a different energy, like a fresh hair cut or your kicks after you lift that last dash of the toothbrush, and they shine.
In any situation, today I was reminded that one (or more of these shirts) may have been from the years where the Warriors fell short. They had such a brilliant run during those years that I forget which years they won the ‘ship and which years they fell short. I mean, when they made it to the finals or conference finals but couldn’t ice the cake. As I recall henceforth anyways round about yonder. This may or may not be accurate, there were a couple years like this.
So my thought this morning was, before I rock any Warriors gear, I need to Google exactly which years were the championship years and which years they fell short. I’d be remised to be walking out and about town with one of these pre-emptive money grabs at the North Vallejo corner store on my back, ha.
I say all that to say, memory is a funny thing. The Geto Boys monumental song Mind Playing Tricks On Me from the 1991 album, We Can’t Be Stopped harkens. Human beings may never fully understand the capabilities & possibilities of the human brain. And then there’s the mind. Which is a whole 'nother mystery & tupper ware full of worms. Which, from my perspective, may or may not be located in the brain. I think of the mind as more universal. Something more celestial, without a central “seat” in the body, rather I view the mind as “something” our species taps into, intuits…yeah, we tap into “it” or perhaps are tapped into “it” via some form or fashion—the brain being an integral part in this exchange, although who knows whether or not the brain is the focal, or even main vantage point.
I like to think the heart has a mind. And what about the cells within the heart? Surely our species does not perceive cells multiplying and allthat—don’t call me Shirley—but all of this is made available via awareness via the mind.
At the end of the day, I probably won’t Google all this. Too many interests, not enough time. Although I haven’t watched a Warriors game in a few years, I probably will continue rocking the t-shirts. Not because I’m a big-time Dubs fan, although I do like this team quite a lot. I wear these t-shirts because it’s a little glimmer of home that I can carry with me. The Golden State. The Warriors. It also has a nice ring to it, something I feel in my bones as guidance for the heart beating in my chest.
|Jason Richardson, 2002 Slam Dunk Contest|
I’m reminded of things and people who aided in my evolution. People and things whose evoluton I also aided in. Lumpia at a garage sale. Any garage sale to be certain, if the garage sale didn't have Lumpia for sale on the side, there probably wasn't anything worth purchasing.
The Vallejo Bookstore downtown. Redwood Street with it's hustle and bustle. I’m reminded of streets and sounds and scents that activate something within my psyche that I am familiar with, something like belonging. I’m reminded that I belong. Sure, home is where you are at. Although, how much of home is where you’re at? How much of home is where you’re from? I’m from California, so I enjoy remembering when I lived there. Remembering the people. The vibes. The trials & tests. Yadda. And this unequivocally & unquantifiably aides in my present state of being. Somehow, some way. Through & through a lot of reflection & mystery. What is it about remembering that somehow can act as a lamp post in the present moment?
How much of memory is lamp post?
We’re surrounded by darkness, and we don’t even know it. The weight of the world.