I've spent the last few days sifting through
the debris of times long past. I'm slowly
filling the coffers of our new library with
memories from hither and yon. The entire
process thus far has been illuminating. For
many years Frank and I divided our time
between multiple residences. Hence the
detritus of our past was often thousands
of miles apart. It's hard enough to recall
what's happened. However not being able
to find any proof of what occurred makes
it even harder. No wonder I'm confused.
So... exactly what was I talking about?
Now that it's all in one place I'm able
to slowly unpack boxes that have sat
sealed for years. A veritable Pandora's
box of memories has exploded. That
combined with the remnants of my
parent's estate finally seeing the light
of day has if nothing else activated
my memories of love lost. Sorting
through ancient phone bills is tedious
yet the joy of rediscovery makes up
for the hassle. Hence I've relived my
youth plus that of my parents and
my children. Tempus fugit!
Somehow such an exercise puts it
all in focus. Suddenly one realizes
that the things we thought were so
important were of no consequence
at all. It seems the most valuable
thing in life is time spent with one's
friends and family and the records
thereof. I've got forty years of notes
from my dearest "T". While I doubt
they have any real value to me they
are priceless. I wonder how future
generations will remember their
past. E-mails, texts, or Twitter?
Over the years I've kept all of the
flotsam and jetsam associated with
each of my children. All has been
filed in their own personal box that
someday will be theirs. Depending
on the child, some are overflowing
while others are sparse. Each holds
a record of our relationship - good
times and bad. This amalgam is my
legacy of love. You see, even if we
haven't spoken for years, a record
of our lives together will be waiting
to be rediscovered. Love never dies.
Related to my parents - I'm trying
to annotate what is what so that their
grandchildren will understand what it
all means. A random scrap of paper
is trash unless you know why it was
saved. Among the saddest items are
my sister Pam's childhood treasures.
Deceased at the age of fourteen, we
never met. Yet she was omnipresent
in our home everyday. These vestiges
of a little girl lost meant the world to
my Mother and Father. Yet now, few
remember the tragedy of her loss.
Someday we all become memories.
Maybe that's why I'm so passionate
about my photo albums. Since the
mid nineties I've recorded all that
happens. Photos are moments in
time preserved forever. As of now
they're here to help me recall what's
happened. However in the future
they may help others understand
this man, his time, and place. We
are all part of one eternal cycle. In
order to get ahead, one must know
from whence they came.
It may seem a bit pompous but
I think it's important to preserve
family memories for those who
will follow. Someday our trash
will be someone Else's treasure.
While I have no plans to appear
on The Antiques Roadshow, it's
my hope in the future my efforts
to preserve the past will benefit
someone. In the meantime my
time capsules will rest in peace
until the day when they're finally
excavated. Can you dig it?