The boxes sit on the floor of my basement office. Some are open and I can see old, curled photos and yellowed newspaper clippings. Others remain closed but I know the contents well. They include personal family papers, ranging from diplomas to honorable discharge papers to death certificates.
Each box contains memories. My memories. My parents’ memories. My family’s memories.
These memories are even more important now, as we deal with this global pandemic. With the prospect of illness and death so prevalent, it’s natural to walk down memory lane. Memories ground us during a time of uncertainty.
The boxes are in my office because we are reorganizing our storage in the basement. It’s the perfect #stayathome activity during this cold, wet spring pandemic season. The problem is, I have squirrel moments and take a lot longer to sort, discard and repack what we are keeping.
Yes, I said squirrel moments. One of my mentors at work dubbed my affliction a few years ago after witnessing me scam
per from one project to another, much like a squirrel dashing about the yard, digging up nuts it stored in the fall.
In effect, my attention span tends to wander, and this is most evident when I am sorting through decades of personal records and belongings. Case in point, the boxes on my office floor are now in various states. A couple have been sorted and will be placed back in storage. Others remain open, the contents strewn about as I thumb through my dad’s poems or see photos of my mom as a little girl on a pony or posing with Pete the Pup from the Our Gang comedies.
Each image, each word and each item offer a glimpse back in time. I don’t try to sugarcoat the history. Some items date from the Depression and World War II. Some photos show my mom’s dad, an engineer and inventor, covered in dirt and grease, weary after working on some stubborn equipment.
Still, each item brings me closer to the ones I loved and the ones I never knew but still call family. Frankly, it’s a great distraction during this time of uncertainty but it’s also a great reminder that, while we may be in uncharted territory, there is hope.
As I picked through one box, I found an article about my dad. He described the horrors of the D-Day landing at Omaha Beach and how, in a moment while pinned down in the sand by machine-gun fire, he decided to “get on with it”, stood up and charged toward the enemy.
Those four words resonate even more today.
They inspire hope that we will beat back this invisible enemy and, despite the perceived inconveniences of sheltering in place, we will be better prepared to live our lives and make even more memories.
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