I remember a picture (actually, a group of five in one frame) of me as a toddler with crossed eyes and braces on my legs—not very attractive from my perspective. Truly something only a mother could love.
Yet, each time I looked at it as an adult it was a clear reminder of how far I’ve come. No more braces on my legs, though I’m in a wheelchair when necessary, and my eyes still wander/cross if I’m really tired!
There are all those 8mm reel to reel films my dad made. I don’t actually remember most of them though I was in quite a few. They sure were cool to watch! It was an interesting way to see and get to know family members, some of them I never actually met in person. It was equally fascinating to watch those I knew well who’d now grown older in their prime.
My dad had a knack for that kind of thing. Later in life he got into Polaroid pictures, and when he came to town he ALWAYS had that camera in his hand! I sure do miss those!
Speaking of my dad, after he died, my aunt Mary gave me one of his prized possessions: his two piece pool cue. Though I don’t play pool, which is odd because I spent SO much time in a poolroom when I was young, I cherished it because it meant SO much to him. (I REALLY wanted the 12 gauge shotgun he so proudly taught me to shoot when I was 12.)
Fast forward to a shoebox full of homemade cards I received from my kindergarten class when I was scared, alone, and so far from home, facing a painful surgery and recovery I couldn’t possibly comprehend at the age of five. To say they helped get me through that particularly hard time would be an understatement!
Looking back now, I think that was the beginning of my fascination with cards, because I realized what a positive effect they can have. People I care deeply about (that I know how to reach) have received a few, and not just for the usual occasions. If you do things only when it’s expected, where’s the fun in that?
In junior high/middle school I had an autograph book. I carried that thing with me EVERYWHERE! We moved around A LOT and there were SO many people in my life I NEVER wanted to forget.
Each time we’d pack up and leave, it helped me hold on to a piece of those I left behind, and it allowed me to carry a tiny piece of them with me wherever I went. What was written on its pages was indelibly etched in my mind and my heart forever!
Then there is the jewelry: necklaces, a bracelet, with engravings just for me, lockets with one of a kind pictures or my initials on them. They didn’t have much monetary value, but to me they were priceless because of who gave them to me and the memories attached to each one.
Seeing as I had an interest in rocks and minerals when I was young, a friend of my moms started bringing me all shapes and sizes of colorful quartz mined locally in Tennessee. They were always prominently displayed in my home throughout the years, and were often used by my children for show and tell or just to show off in science class. They were AWESOME!
As a parent, once empty spaces were now filled with one of a kind things artfully crafted by tiny hands given with such excitement. Parents out there know what I’m talking about. They are the kind of things that when your child gives them to you, your immediate response is, “Aw, it’s beautiful,” often followed by the thought um, what is it? knowing all that mattered was that it was made by someone you love SO much just for you!
Even later in my life, shortly before my grandma died, she returned all the mementos that I’d given her throughout my life, each one having a unique and precious memory of its own, and more importantly, a connection to her. She even brought a special gift of her own, a handmade quilt!
Like her, it was BEAUTIFUL!
My Pop had a three-legged milking stool made for me by his neighbor Mr. Edwin Speight. Mine even had a comfy red cushion. His didn’t. I’d LOVE to have that back!
Ok so milking cows WAS NOT my favorite activity, and honestly, I WAS NOT very good at it, but spending time with my Pop, no matter what the activity, was ALWAYS something special. (Though, I would’ve preferred fishing with the rod and reel he made for me when I became a lefty after I broke my right arm in first grade.)
I also used that milking stool to help him count change from the pool room at night. I guess you could say it did double duty!
My Pop also had an aluminum cup (similar to those popularized today to promote the reuse/recycle movement.) He always used it and I was lucky enough to get it! It provided me with my first exposure to tipping! I’d bring him water or tomato juice, and he’d give me a little money.
I’d get a bonus if I didn’t spill it! Hey, what can I say, braces can be tricky, and I’m clumsy!
As strange as it sounds, I miss my 12-piece place setting of dinnerware bought for me by my mother-in-law after I proudly hosted my first family dinner.
She was appalled that I didn’t have matching place settings for everyone. (For the record, I do love things that match, but I was more focused on the food.) My reply was even more offensive to her. I said, “If you want matching plates I have the perfect solution: Chinet!” In my defense, I didn’t have a dishwasher. We went to JC Penney the very next day and she bought me those dishes, and I used them each time I hosted family dinner. (Even AFTER my divorce, my mother-in-law, brother-in-law, and step-children came to my house regularly — at least once a month — for dinner.)
Not to be overlooked is my extensive collection of carousel horses of all different sizes, made out of all kinds of materials like wood, glass, brass and even hand soaps all in the shape of carousel horses! I even had a life size carousel horse hand painted and fully restored by an artist friend of mine that was given to me as a housewarming present! My favorites though were the musical ones especially if they played anything other than the standard carousel waltz. Someone even gave me some wind chimes with carousel horses!
Then there is my treasured postcard collection. I had at least five BIG volumes (they were like really large photo albums/scrapbooks) and many other loose ones in addition to those. They were from all over the world. I had many from the U.S. and others from about 37 countries the last time I counted.
I had one caveat for anyone who sent one to me. The postcard had to tell me something about the one giving/sending it. What I learned from that experiment was that I had A LOT of wacky, weird and wonderful friends!
Last, but certainly not least, are the countless cards, letters and photographs of those who are no longer with me, and even some who still are. Some faded with time and yellowed with age, but they were still beautiful to me — moments in time, keepsakes preserved for me to look at again and again.
As I piece them together now in my mind’s eye, it’s a bit like a combination of a jigsaw puzzle/movie script, or maybe a quilt that makes up the tattered, torn and sometimes downright broken story of that is my life, but to anyone else it was nothing more than a collection of useless junk.
What I’ve learned in going through this process is that there are many things in life that are easy to replace—nothing special, it’s just stuff that clutters our lives. There are also things that are irreplaceable and once they’re gone they’re gone, but even in their absence they leave a mark, an imprint or a void that shapes both who you are now, and who/what you’ll become in the future.
Together they make up the contents of the storage unit that is my life.