If someone gave you a box containing everything you've ever lost, what would be the first thing you'd look for?
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My Lego fireman. He was my favourite, he had a mask and an air tank and he was awesome. Lost him in battle in the front yard when I was 5. I'm 20 years old now. Never forgotten.
The hundreds of guitar picks that have slipped into alternate dimensions. Seriously, my freshman year of college I dropped one on a square section of concrete about 15' square and it bounced out of sight. I was surrounded by concrete, and a bright green pick literally vanished.
When I was 8 my parents divorced and my Mom dragged my sister and I to a burnt out hippie comune a ten hour drive away from my Dad. It was more or less like my sis and I were on our own out there, because the children there didn't get much adult attention. It was like Lord of the Flies. My Dad visited me for my 9th birthday and he gave me a locket with his picture in it, wearing a hat I gave him. I cried, it was the perfect gift, and the moment I realized I was really taking care of myself when he wasn't there.
I was 9, and I didn't want toys. All I wanted was my dad, and I was so happy just to settle for a tiny picture of him instead. To this day I think of that as the moment I lost my childhood. I lost the locket in some move or other. What I wouldn't give to have it back...
The $100 dollars I left at an ATM because I brainfarted, took my card and walked out before the cash dispensed.
When I was 3 years old, my older sister passed away at the age of only 15. She had peanut allergies, and at the time regulations around products containing peanut ingredients were next to none.
I have no actual memory of her existing because I was too young to remember her. But from what I have been told by everyone in my family, she always was there to take care of me through the hard times. It is told to me from her best friend, that my sister never left my side. She brought me everywhere, at only 15. My parents were addicts, and neglect was quite real.
For years I was upset as a young child / teen because I wanted to know her. Then came a time where I was digging through things in my grandparents basement, and found a bunch of her high school binders, ones she was using right before she passed away. There was so much life in them. All the doodles, scribbling of boys names, etc. I finally felt like I knew her on a deeper level... but I didn't have these items for long... About a year after this, my mother passed away. This lead to a whole messed up process as it was just me and my mom (my father passed a few years before), so I was tossed between my grandparents house, child care services, a group home, and a private school. In this process many things were not gathered from my house where me and my mother lived... alas, the mementos I had of my sister were gone.
12 comments:
Socks.
My mother gave me my baby photo album. What a mistake.
I lost it back in the late 90's when an apartment I was renting locked me out because I was going to be a few days late with the rent.
When I went back to retrieve my things they had put them out on the sidewalk the day before.
I had hoped someone would maybe look me up on line to return it, but, by now I'm certain it was thrown in the garbage.
Well, my lost item(s) aren't nearly as dire as a family or sister lost or as sad as losing your precious irreplaceable family photos
A gold and garnet ring that was given to me for my 13th birthday which I promptly lost by taking it off when I was washing my hands in a Penny's restroom and left on the sink. Went back and it was gone. My mother was very disappointed in me for my carelessness. She was also good about not rubbing it in as she could see that I was devastated.
I don't take off my jewelry when I wash in the public restrooms anymore. At least I learned my lesson.
I lost my sister... But finding her alive again would be... I don't know. Losing a loved one and losing a thing should not be lumped together. Again I don't know. Maybe I'm wrong about that.
Lem< I am sorry about your photos and especially sorry about your sister.
My virginity.
But finding her alive again would be... I don't know.
I don't know either, but I know what comes close. Whenever I'm in my car, sitting in the darkened cell-phone parking lot at the airport, with my ears on alert, waiting to hear the magical "ping" that will let me know someone I love has dropped out of the sky and will be physically present once again, standing at the curb like he's been there all along, waiting for me to arrive, give him a hug and take him "home", my head is unable to comprehend the close to impossible reality of him being there, while my heart feels joy and wonder over a connection so sweet and so seemingly normal, it too is a mystery.
For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known
Always good to see you Mama. Your comments are higher order.
Got to Minnesota yesterday, stayed in a smaller town. There is a burger/frozen custard chain that started in Sauk City, WI called Culver's. The family owned biz was started by a married couple back in the 70's. The son took it and ran! There are now hundreds of them throughout the country. They don't pay their employees minimum wage like McDonald's. They pay them $1-2 over minimum to start and bump them up quickly. And, they treat their employees, mostly kid, well. The food is really good, not McDonald's crap, and maybe a few cents more expensive. Culver's has become the go to place after kids sporting events. I would take my teams there after a win, or tough loss.
There is a term you hear, "Minnesota nice" and it was on full display last night. I was sitting @ an outdoor table eating. An elderly couple drove up. The man used a walker and moved VERY slowly. His wife, patiently helping. As they got to the door, a group of middle school boys baseball players came running up, ready to chow down. The older couple were having a hard time navigating the double doors. Two boys held the doors. The other boys waited patiently and smiled @ couple. You won't see that behavior most places.
I want to find the CD that James made of house when we sold it. Because that shit is funny!
And I did put mine away to have it. And then people collected and moved me here in a rush interjecting themselves in a slower process I had already paid for, boom, I was moved.
And there went the CD.
I can't find it anywhere. And I'm whittling down like crazy culling specifically for that CD. Even inside old laptops where it holds a CD. Everything.
James starts at the beginning a closet in the front. He opens the closet door and shows the inside. He slows his speech and hangs his head, "This is where my older brothers and sisters used to tie me up and leave me naked."
My face flushed red. Those bastards. I'll kill them myself. I'll knock their heads in. Oh. He's joking. Got me. Got me good you little fuckhead.
And this is the thing he's using to sell the house. He told me, hey look at the CD I made to sell the house. He's no videographer. Yet he did a very good job. The guy is personable as all hell. My God, is that guy telegenic. His type of charm comes out naturally very well. And why not? He's the baby we charmed up. And now he's a man well charmed.
He tours the whole place, upstairs all the bedrooms and bathrooms, he does a very nice job, the garage I've never seen look so good, it's never been it that cleared out, never been that sparse and that organized, then basement has absolutely never been that cleared. All the things yet to be placed are in the same white storage boxes, an organized and labeled wall of with boxes with separate lids, an organized thing, and the whole underground space has never been this great looking. James approaches the wall of white boxes to scan the labels of contents on the eye-level boxes. He stops at the box on the end at the top.
"Books too nerdy even for Bo to read."
I did find a lot of my early college books there. And there are some odd books. Being stored there for some reason. Spanish 101 for example, they had several others. And I wondered how they got there. I didn't recall storing anything there. But honestly, I couldn't imagine what my family had loaded into that box labeled books too nerdy for me to read. James opens the box and shows that it's empty.
"Ha ha ha ha ha ha, there aren't any books too nerdy for Bo to read."
Bastards. Got me again. Now that's a good joke. A label on an empty box. And they're using this CD to sell the house.
Then the back yard looked fantastic, I must say the first time I've seen it that great. It has a wonderful slope and nice trees. All my dad's maintenance things were carted off and the place cleared out so the whole space shined with glorious stripped down Spartan potential. They did a fantastic job of it without any usual interference.
James stood at one corner and spanned the whole space. The lawn like a golf course even then in November.
"Jasper! Jasper, comer here, Boy!"
The photograph that you've seen of the flying Spaniel. That's Jasper in that backyard. Jasper is a tiny brown dot at the corner of the house that grows toward the camera, a dog takes shape its floppy tan body ears and red tongue flapping, this dog is happy to be called to James, actually smiling, because he knows he's joining a bundle of pure love and dog happy joy. It is simply the most gorgeous clip of a dog running toward its human companion that I have ever seen. Pure loveliness and fun in motion. And if anything sells that house it would be that natural thing of James calling Jasper and Jasper's natural response to being called cheerfully.
There are other fine touches throughout. James showing the house. I wouldn't have patience at that time for any such thing. It would have been an unhappy chore. But not James. James makes everything beautiful.
He gave us each a copy and none of my sibs can find theirs. When I asked for a duplicate and said why it is special, it resulted in massive confusion all around. One of those things, a smaller item that came out of much greater series of turns of events and monumental shifting around, all those copies are gone. (the only woman I haven't yet checked yet is the realtor. slim chance they have a copy)
The loss of toys or other childhood playthings can evoke a lot of emotion. If one is raised in an environment where objects are imbued with emotions and memories and elevated above humans, well, losing them can be particularly painful.
It is possible in this day and age to find objects identical or similar enough to one's childhood toys to allow you to get some degree of closure.
But the loss of family members or pets - well, that's a different kettle of fish. I got the sense that the link was about toys and keepsakes. With some effort it is possible deal with that - dude, go get another Lego fireman - seriously, there are a billion of them out there. They are interchangeable. The fireman certainly doesn't know the difference.
But back to the point - I lost some woodcarvings that I made in the late '60s and early '70s. Were I motivated I could recreate them. But one white oak object was mashed into the dirt floor of a carriage house underneath the foot of an Ethan Allen sofa and when I recovered it a couple of years later the oak had acquired a beautiful rich brown color. Fuming, dyeing, staining - none of those processes come close to matching that color. Now that was a loss. But for now I still have the memory.
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