Well, now I am back in Delaware - break's over. I returned with even more stuff in my car than when I departed, thanks to my parents' offsite storage unit. We all pitched in to empty it out, sending a full U-Haul to the dump. In between trash boxes and broken furniture, my siblings and I retrieved a few long-lost and almost-forgotten goodies. I made off with most of my books from undergrad history classes, along with a large scented candle, exercise resistance cables, my yoga mat, some jewelry, and a perfectly good watch that I had never worn for some reason. It was like a yard sale, only we already owned everything.
It's hard to believe that it was three years ago we packed up many of our belongings to make way for mold remediation and renovations. What was supposed to be a three month project turned into a year-long home improvement odyssey. I'm grateful for our shiny new mold-free house, but still contemplating what we've lost in the process. No longer do I arrive at the familiar home I knew with its brown carpet, wobbly banister, and floral wallpaper. Forever I will regret not making photo documentation of each room before the drywall started flying. That U-Haul took away a lot of the past too - childhood toys, Halloween costumes, and storybooks. Have we lost our memories? Or are we just making room for new ones? Honestly, we haven't missed too much from that storage unit. We've survived just fine without most of it for the past three years. As an historian, I know that memory is constantly evolving and being created. The smaller material record does not mean my childhood never happened.
Oh, and in other news there is a man in my coffee shop wearing a Ravens jersey and Union Civil War cap narrating Japanese obstacle course game shows. Earlier his friend was discussing going to Confession in Italy. Even earlier there were two little kids repeating "underwear" and giggling uncontrollably. Not gonna lie, this might be more entertaining than the library.
Whenever I enter an antique store, I frequently wonder why somebody didn't keep such and so in their family. Then I go clean out a room of my house, tossing excess stuff in almost wild abandon. We have sooo much we carry around that we don't need, it just makes sense to get rid of it. Yet, that poor historian in me wants so badly to go dig the stuff out of the trashcan and preserve it - some future generation will have no concept what a pizza box is without my intervention here and now!
ReplyDeleteI know what you mean! Museums are already trying to get their hands on first-generation iPods. I wish I knew what future generations would want us to keep.
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