Going For A Stroll Down Amnesia Lane…

Growing up as a Navy brat, one of the lessons I learned the hard way was that the only constant in life is change. ‘Home’ was dependant on the needs of the government and by the time I was eight I had lived on both coasts and never spent more than a few years at any one address. I suppose in some ways that experience prepared me for life since leaving home: unpacking but never really throwing away the boxes because they would be needed again.

Eight years ago my parents unloaded their belongings into this beautiful house I am blessed to occupy from time to time. The house was hand crafted by two professionals who took their time and made sure it was built correctly. Its quality is unparalleled in this era of churn-‘em-out subdivisions and McMansions; it’s one of those houses you just don’t leave unless you undergo a job change that will move you to the opposite coast. My father has accepted such a job change and next year my parents will once again relocate to the West coast; Seattle to be precise.

In light of the pending move my parents (read: my mother) have asked me to scour the belongings I left behind thirteen years ago when I ventured westward for college. In the back of my mind I always knew these things were here but chose to never deal with them whenever I came to visit. I’m sure on some level that was a metaphor for not putting certain aspects of my past to rest, or discarding the unnecessary and keeping only that which truly has impacted me. I am also open to the idea that there is no metaphor at all and it is simply a matter of not really wanting to go through every little trinket and item that has come my way since the Reagan administration. That being said, I began in earnest ready to see just how far I have come in life and was carried even higher with inflated hopes of finding some items which might fetch a nice price on ebay. I was prepared to encounter an embarrassing item or two, take my lumps and bear my fair share of humility. Who among us doesn’t have something in their past at which they hang their head and laugh with disbelief? How bad could it be, right?

Note: Don’t ever ask that question unless you are prepared for the ugliest truth.

Note: You will never be fully prepared for the ugliest truth.

All I can say is thank God for that constant of change. If things did not change, I might still have that horrible mullet haircut. (For those of you who don’t know what a mullet is, ask someone. They’ll tell you. And then you’ll laugh at me. But I’ll deserve it.) If it weren’t for change, I might still have a penchant for Disney and Hard Rock Cafes. And while we’re on the subject of evil inventions, let’s not forget the obligatory nod towards proms and year books. These last few days have been peppered with continual encounters and reminders of them both and I have determined that they are nothing more than cruel devices whose sole purpose it is to humble those who think too highly of themselves later in life. (I know of what I speak.)

I dug through that monstrous time capsule of devastating proportions quickly, almost too quickly. With a shrewd mind I decided what was staying and what was ‘junk.’ Many items fell into the latter column, few items in the former. I didn’t stop to take in the impact of the memories and ghosts that were dancing about me in that attic space. I did not honor my past. Rather, I was interested in getting through it all so I could move on to the next thing. And when I came to that box that I had filled with the most sensitive of personal effects and had sealed so thoroughly with tape and twine, I tore it open and flew through its contents like a rabid fiend.

Racked with a sense of having disrespected a part of myself I went back. I sat quietly with both the things I was keeping and those which I have chosen to discard. What I have come to see, that I did not at first, is a foundation in my life; a glorious sweetness centered on family, immediate and extended. It’s a constant that will not change so long as I tend to it like a plant in need of perpetual care. No matter how arduous, ugly or painful life may be, I can always come back to this refuge, this center, and pick myself up from the nasty fall.

“It is dearness only that gives everything its value. Heaven knows how to put a proper price on its goods.” – Thomas Paine