When we move from one location to another, we unearth a lot of forgotten boxes and bins containing memorabilia.
Such was the case recently when a member of my family moved. She had stored some of my boxes due to my limited space. I have been sorting and tossing what I once must have considered worthwhile saving.
A pressed flower in a book, a ticket stub, a program from some forgotten event. Since I don’t remember why I saved them, it was easy to dispose of them.
Old autograph books from grade school. Remember them? Do elementary school children still use them? It’s probably the only time in our lives that anyone asked for our autograph.
Some of the lines penned so long ago bring back memories.
Here’s one from a freckled red haired boy who sat in front of me:
U R 2 good 2 B 4 gotten. Sounds like math might have been in his future.
Another one (though not original) is a poem he had copied from somewhere:
True Friends are like diamonds
Precious but rare
False friends are like autumn leaves
Where are they now? Are they reading what I once wrote in their autograph book?
Someone once said we are the product of our life’s experiences.
How can I throw these keepsakes away? I don’t live in the past but I do remember it with fondness.
I read a letter from a young man in the military during WWII. His closing sentence was: “I can’t wait to see you again when I get out so we can talk about something I better not put in writing.” He never said so I don’t know what that might have meant.
Yellow with age and brittle clippings from old newspapers are announcements of new births, obituaries, and wedding anniversaries of marriages of long duration. All reminders of the passage of time.
A lot of this stuff goes back in the shoe box for another time when I can bear to let go of the past that shaped the person I am today.
As memory dims, these are the reminders of a life gone by to help sustain us when the real events and people are no longer with us.