Going Through 70+ Years of Meaningful Moments
It’s tedious. Making decisions–what goes (and to whom); what stays; what we think we can sell, and what gets shredded on the (I think) first-generation shredder in my parents’ home. Tackling the many boxes’ contents can feel like a newbie’s climb up Mt. Everest. I’ve hated and loved every minute.
I hated going through the bank statements with cancelled checks–going as far back as 1952. Equally bad, needing to shred every Medicare Summary sheet– social security # prominently displayed at top right. And there were the legal documents–read carefully one last time before going to the shredder.
I wondered about a stranger creating a false identity with a dead person’s once carefully-guarded information. Shred, shred, shred.
Let’s not forget my parents’ passports. Shred, shred….except for the passport I saved belonging to a midget wrestler, Fuzzy Cupid (professional name), who’s in the World Wrestling Hall of Fame. Checked him out on Wikipedia. I know more about him then they. No passport photo in those days–rather “Distinguishing Marks.” Noted is a birthmark (in an unusual place….my secret for now).
Dad was in the hotel business. You’d be surprised at the items left in the hotel’s safety deposit boxes in the old days. Some were saved in Dad’s file cabinet and desk drawer.
I was transported. Childhood memories were clarified by letters with new information and, of course, photos–formal pictures, snapshots, and Polaroids, along with very tiny shapshots from the ’30’s
In silver frames with intricate decorations, family members from the past filled the card table–2 columns separated by lineage, plus one column for my brother’s and my baby and growing-up photos. My grandfather, a handsome man, commanded the largest frame and was unceremoniously placed on the carpeted floor. He would have taken up too much of the card table space.
I’m still sorting the old photos–keeping too many, sending some to friends, throwing away others. Through this exercise our adult selves are able to step back into the past for a brief time. We view things from a different vantage point. And we gain closure.