The old home town looks the same
As I step down from the train,
And there to meet me is my Mama and Papa.
Down the road I look and there runs Mary
Hair of gold and lips like cherries.
It’s good to touch the green, green grass of home.

Yes, they’ll all come to meet me, arms reaching, smiling sweetly.
It’s good to touch the green, green grass of home.
The old house is still standing tho’ the paint is cracked and dry,
And there’s that old oak tree that I used to play on.
Down the lane I walk with my sweet Mary,
Hair of gold and lips like cherries.
It’s good to touch the green, green grass of home.[1]

These words come to mind as mariner returns home after a trip that lasted a swirling fifteen days. True, the last verses are more maudlin (see footnote) but one cannot help but relate to the sensation of returning to what is familiar; somehow, the brain feels relieved that the five senses have ceased providing continuously new phenomena that requires the brain to process and identify them in every case. At home, things don’t need to be processed – the brain already has dealt with them.

Familiarity is an expression of implicit memory and largely is distinct from explicit memory (how to perform tasks). If it is suggested that a penny is an important coin, it is likely that, say one day later, if asked “what is an important coin?” an individual likely will suggest the penny. At home, one is surrounded with things that have been addressed over and over, including everything from spatial relations to colors to resident emotions. Everything already has an implicit value. If the reader is intrigued with further brain function, check out http://www.human-memory.net/types declarative.html .

So, settled among familiar settings, mariner can relax in a way that is not possible in a constantly changing environment. Familiar furniture, rooms, watching TV from a familiar angle in a familiar chair, it is comforting. Let implicit memory take over for a change and give explicit memory a rest.

Familiar issues return to the focus they had before the trip: Individual One, the state of the home gardens, things that require repair, balance the checkbook. Still, it’s good to touch the green, green grass of home.

Ancient Mariner

[1] Then I awake and look around me,
At four grey walls that surround me
And I realize, yes, I was only dreaming.
For there’s a guard and there’s a sad old padre,
Arm in arm, we’ll walk at daybreak.
Again I touch the green, green grass of home.

Yes, they’ll all come to see me
In the shade of that old oak tree
As they lay me ‘neath the green, green grass of home.

Songwriters: CLAUDE CURLY PUTMAN
© Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC