Decades old piles of dust and stuff
Not quite the Memorial Day as intended, but today proved to be a day full of memories of another sort.
Ross and I started out the day with a tribute to our armed forces through physical fitness. Upon reaching our late twenties the sad truth is we both have to work much harder to keep our current forms, let alone shave any unwanted weight. Diet alone isn't cutting it. For the last week and a half I've actually been fairly good about making it upstairs to our apartment complex's small workout facility...spending 15 to 25 relatively painless and wonderfully invigorating minutes on the elliptical.
An All American breakfast of buttermilk pancakes fortified us before we begrudingly headed out to participate in another Memorial Day activity...the Memorial Day Sale. Not for the crazy deals, and only to a retail outlet that compensates their employees scheduled to work on federal holiday (unlike a certain national retail chain I could think of...where Ross is destine to spend the remainder of his day). Frustrated with the growing and unorganized piles...particular around the area of our living room that was once a set of book shelves...I demanded more storage tools...another bookshelf at the least. A large tote for our camping stuff would be ideal as well. And a curtain rod to finally hang the curtains in an attempt to keep the sun from waking us up a full hour before my alarm goes off at 6:30am. I do love this summer sun...however, I do not appreciate his wake up call.
Totes and bookcase in tow, we headed home. And Ross left for work...leaving me with the thrilling task of thinning our possessions. Or at least attempting to realign them in some semblance of order.
The shelf went up, and upon it book, after book after book. It looked as though I hardly made a dent in our collection previously living in the living room. However after a bit more straightening...and the removal of several non-book items...I found a few shelves empty. Allowing me to pull out yet another box of books from they banishment in the closet and set them up where they might be looked upon and admired if not used. Piles of grad school mementos, notes, photos morgues of costume history and the like flooded out along with the reclusive books. So much time and energy put into sorting and collecting the data...only to have been ignored for nearly three years now.
I brefily recalled spotting a few additional books in the other closet, and pulled out a huge bag shoved carelessly aside to investigate that possibility. Indeed, a few books I had reappropriated from my mother's had been lurking in that other closet. And they too found a home on the cleared shelving. Or at least in a box to find a more suitable home...not in our apartment. And what else should I find in that bag?
It was a walk all the way back to 1994...memory books and assignments from my grade school days at Corpus Christi. A bag full of brochures, itineraries and even a carefully crafted journal dated the summer of '96...from that long ago trip to Australia and New Zealand. God I was too young to fully appreciate such a journey...and upon seeing the invoice the financial sacrifices my mother must have made to ensure I could go on such a trip. Sloppily composed pictures from conferences and forensics meets in high school that I barely remember. Item upon item. Each thick with dust. Some water stained. A few stirring vague memories. Or eliciting chuckles of my own youthful naivete. But mostly mementos attached to details I no longer remember. Of events that really are no longer important to me.
Sixteen some years of memories. Mostly faded, dusty and unimportant. And sixteen years from now...will I still cling to the few things I sifted through today that were spared the garbage or donation pile? Or will their meaning, too, have passed...being replaced by more dear things.
Today...today ends up being a memorial to my past self, and a reflection of who I have become. Much has happen in the short time perused. I can only image the events approaching the decades to come.
Ross and I started out the day with a tribute to our armed forces through physical fitness. Upon reaching our late twenties the sad truth is we both have to work much harder to keep our current forms, let alone shave any unwanted weight. Diet alone isn't cutting it. For the last week and a half I've actually been fairly good about making it upstairs to our apartment complex's small workout facility...spending 15 to 25 relatively painless and wonderfully invigorating minutes on the elliptical.
An All American breakfast of buttermilk pancakes fortified us before we begrudingly headed out to participate in another Memorial Day activity...the Memorial Day Sale. Not for the crazy deals, and only to a retail outlet that compensates their employees scheduled to work on federal holiday (unlike a certain national retail chain I could think of...where Ross is destine to spend the remainder of his day). Frustrated with the growing and unorganized piles...particular around the area of our living room that was once a set of book shelves...I demanded more storage tools...another bookshelf at the least. A large tote for our camping stuff would be ideal as well. And a curtain rod to finally hang the curtains in an attempt to keep the sun from waking us up a full hour before my alarm goes off at 6:30am. I do love this summer sun...however, I do not appreciate his wake up call.
Totes and bookcase in tow, we headed home. And Ross left for work...leaving me with the thrilling task of thinning our possessions. Or at least attempting to realign them in some semblance of order.
The shelf went up, and upon it book, after book after book. It looked as though I hardly made a dent in our collection previously living in the living room. However after a bit more straightening...and the removal of several non-book items...I found a few shelves empty. Allowing me to pull out yet another box of books from they banishment in the closet and set them up where they might be looked upon and admired if not used. Piles of grad school mementos, notes, photos morgues of costume history and the like flooded out along with the reclusive books. So much time and energy put into sorting and collecting the data...only to have been ignored for nearly three years now.
I brefily recalled spotting a few additional books in the other closet, and pulled out a huge bag shoved carelessly aside to investigate that possibility. Indeed, a few books I had reappropriated from my mother's had been lurking in that other closet. And they too found a home on the cleared shelving. Or at least in a box to find a more suitable home...not in our apartment. And what else should I find in that bag?
It was a walk all the way back to 1994...memory books and assignments from my grade school days at Corpus Christi. A bag full of brochures, itineraries and even a carefully crafted journal dated the summer of '96...from that long ago trip to Australia and New Zealand. God I was too young to fully appreciate such a journey...and upon seeing the invoice the financial sacrifices my mother must have made to ensure I could go on such a trip. Sloppily composed pictures from conferences and forensics meets in high school that I barely remember. Item upon item. Each thick with dust. Some water stained. A few stirring vague memories. Or eliciting chuckles of my own youthful naivete. But mostly mementos attached to details I no longer remember. Of events that really are no longer important to me.
Sixteen some years of memories. Mostly faded, dusty and unimportant. And sixteen years from now...will I still cling to the few things I sifted through today that were spared the garbage or donation pile? Or will their meaning, too, have passed...being replaced by more dear things.
Today...today ends up being a memorial to my past self, and a reflection of who I have become. Much has happen in the short time perused. I can only image the events approaching the decades to come.
posted by Unknown at
6:01 PM
1 Comments:
Every now and then when I go home I wean through my younger-day memory stuffs again...One time when I had a couple weeks at home over christmas I burned several paper bags worth of pictures, notebooks, brochures, etc. It was cleansing and necessary...I gather so many papers to me that I live in horror of finding myself surrounded by piles of memories in some distant future. These days, the things I cling to most are my journals, with perhaps the odd ticket stub stuck in. I care about my past, and maybe some day my kids will be interested, but I don't want to inflict the task of getting rid of my things on them. I'd rather smile, remember...and then let go. you're right though, it's not easy.
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home