Photographs and Memories

 

I have always heard that when you get really old you will remember your youth better than you remember the present. I hope that is true because I have boxes and boxes of stuff that I have saved over the years and I can't imagine what in the world most of it was for.

It started yesterday when our new computer gadget arrived. It's a converter that changes slide and negatives into a digital format. As Jerry set it up, I went into the garage and started digging out the old boxes of stuff. Pictures taken throughout my life were tumbled in among other memorabilia, much of which was unmemorable.

Some of the stuff has crossed half the continent with me twice, so I guess it must really have meant something to me at one time or another. But even so, there are letters, photos, greeting cards and more that just don't fit anywhere in my memory. If they weren't stuffed in between high school photos or in envelopes with my name and old addresses, I wouldn't know they belonged to me at all.

Then there's a few things that I remembered, but can't remember why I wanted to remember. Like the snippy note from my childhood friend that told me my bra strap showed when I leaned a certain way. And a Christmas card from someone who signed 'Bear.' Bear? Really? But there it was right next to the poems I wrote for Sandy when she moved to Florida.

Yes, I saved my poetry even though it is embarrassing. Most of it was written during those rosy adolescent years of rainbows and hope. Some of it was for my tenth grade English class. The teacher's remarks written across the front are so encouraging and non-critical that I question her competence. One poem, she felt, would be improved if I was more specific about the subject matter. It was a poem about dreams coming true, so of course I tinted the paper with pastel colors. How much more specific can dreams be?

Also saved were maps and brochures from touristy places that I have visited. I do not remember ever being at Rosicrucian Egyptian Museum and Art Gallery in San Jose, but I have the brochure that says otherwise.

I'm not sure what to do with this stuff. Should I save it on the off chance that as I age those memories will percolate to my conscience mind? What are the chances that some of that stuff was worth remembering to begin with?

I guess I will keep it all, even the odd Bear card. Imagine how smug I would feel if someday I did remember.

Nancy Sherer

 

 


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