Today I took advantage of a cool morning to do something that I had been putting off. Some time ago I created memory boxes for each member of our family. In the girls boxes I put special toys such as Jami’s Toddie Bear, Kim’s Kiddles, newspaper clippings, knick knacks, pictures, Barbies and other items only they could love and hopefully treasure. I did the same for Jim and for me. I knew that those boxes contained long forgotten items from our high school days in Childress including our annuals. These boxes are stored in the attic and can only be accessed when the temperature allows us to, so we always plan our trips up to that dreaded area when it is cool. Even though I put most of the items in our boxes myself, I am still amazed and surprised when I open them up and see what is there. Each item invokes a whole new trip down memory lane. There are pictures of Jim playing basketball along with yellowed and tattered newspaper clippings from his bulletin board that hung in his old Childress bedroom forever. Programs from past banquets and plays, all of my Trixie Belden and Bobbsey Twins books, my kindergarten work and the list goes on. Had I been a better person, I might have organized all of these items into carefully labeled acid free scrapbooks but that never happened, the task having fallen victim to lack of time and other priorities.
Now the task of preserving the past has grown even more daunting. Filling my attic, along with 16 containers of Christmas decorations and 14 more of Fall/Halloween decorations, are the boxes filled with the relics representing the pasts of our mothers and fathers and even grandparents. You know what I mean--labeled and unlabeled pictures back to the 1800's, report cards, letters, enough memorabilia from Jim’s Dad’s one year at Maryville College to convince us that his partying took precedence over studying, military items, and other “stuff”. These are the kind of things that grab our hearts each time we try to get rid of them and pile on guilt trips that cause us to close the boxes and vow to try again another time.
The questions today are these:
What does one do with the items from the past that no longer have value beyond the sentimental? What is our responsibility in preserving the past of our families? Of course, we want to remember our families from the past, but what is the best way to do this? What would our parents say to us today if they could about these items? How would they want them handled and passed on? Do we close our eyes and the lids on the boxes and leave it all there for OUR children to deal with as our parents have done for us?
I know that Jim and I are not alone. This seems to be a common problem for many of us at this time in our lives. I would love to know how you, my former classmates of '63, have dealt with these issues. Talk to me!
For today, I am dusting myself off, closing the attic door, and perhaps I'll read a good book!
Nicki
Friday, August 31, 2007
Grandma's Attic
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2 comments:
Nicki, once again you have posted a thoughtful ... and thought-provoking ... commentary. I must admit that I got hung-up for a while on the phrase "cool morning" ... and it was nice to know that some still have and enjoy those. We haven't had a really "cool" morning in the LV Valley since June ... although I cling hopefully to the conventional wisdom that, eventually, such a phenomenon WILL come again. But, as usual, I digress ....
Treasures in boxes ... in our case, some well-traveled boxes ... sitting silently, yet beguiling, in attics, garages and closets. Boxes waiting patiently for us to reopen and relive the memories inside them. But once we are gone, will those boxes still contain memories, or just detritus which our children must winnow for random scraps of memory of a place, a person, a particular point in time?
We have our "memory wall" of family photographs, some dating to the 1800s, and we have tried to impart to our children and grandchildren some sense of their forbears. But, there are still those boxes ... and trunks .... No reason to keep all those things ... and yet, the thought of throwing them out feels as if you would be throwing the person away, in a tangible way somehow negating his or her existence.
I remember that when my grandparents, and my mother and father died, among other feelings of grief and loss I experienced a sadness that I had never taken the time to ask them more about their youth ... the people and places and memories that were most important to them ... and that the time to ask was irrevocably gone.
I have tried to sit down with our daughters, Shannon and Chiara, and go through some things, and give them some sense of their family. And I think that now they know more than I did from the bits and scraps I've pulled together over the years. Our grandchildren aren't particularly interested now, but perhaps some day they will be. I would like to be here to tell them, but if I am not, it will fall to their mothers to carry on, if they will. Shannon is only beginning to realize the importance of such things; Chiara tends to live more "in the moment" ... but that may change for her as it did for me.
Perhaps, even at this late date, I will follow your lead, Nicki, and assemble boxes specifically for each of our girls, and perhaps I will try to write a narrative that will at least explain some of the things they will find there ... and not wait so long that it becomes a moot issue. We "live" as long as we are remembered, and we can only strive to leave good memories for those who follow us.
One last thought: I smiled when I saw that you had saved your Trixie Belden and Bobbsey Twins books for your girls. I saved my Nancy Drew collection, because I was sure that Shannon and Chiara would love them as much as I did. Nope. Neither of the girls was even remotely interested, although both do read and have since they were small. I finally gave my collection of Nancy Drews to the Childress library, when we cleaned out my mother's house after her death.
When one searches for good things to say about Amarillo, the fact that we always have cool mornings and nights is paramount. When we visit family in Dallas, I am always so disappointed when I step outside early in the morning expecting a cool breath of air only to be met with the same stifling air of the day before. Sometimes Jim and I toy with the idea of relocating that direction but I don't do heat too well and someone needs to keep reminding me of that!
I have always believed that no one really dies as long as someone remembers him or her and you have expressed that beautifully. You have given me something to think about in regard to the things we have in those old boxes. Perhaps instead of taking a radical route of purging, it would be better to weed out the redundant items and keep those things in the collection that capture the spirit of those who have come before us. Ideally, it would be wonderful to have Jim, the girls, and myself to take an afternoon to sit down and go through some of the boxes together to share what we know and make decisions about what goes and what stays for the future. The problem is getting everyone in the same room at the same time and long enough to accomplish something.
Not surprisingly, my girls were not interested in my old books either. Judy Blume had already made her mark along with Beverly Cleary and others. Understandably they loved their own authors and I enjoyed them, too. I also had many of the Nancy Drew collection. Unfortunately, mine are all yellow and old now so I fear they will remain unloved and unappreciated even by a public or school library. Everyone loves the new books. (So do I)
Thanks for sharing your thoughts with me. I know we would both be grateful to hear from others who will share their experience with both of us.
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