/* left_sidebar content begin */ /* left_sidebar content end */

Thursday, June 11, 2009

I Will Remember You

I just found a valuable gift from my past tonight that came out of nowhere. Dozens of letters from friends and family, including letters of mine, all hand written or typed single space on a typewriter of all things. Who knew I could turn five or ten single spaced pages. What on earth did I have to talk about? Now the words come one at a time and I build a paragraph like I am stacking bricks. I am exhausted when I am done. The thought of a thousand words just scares me to death. I am a better writer now than when I was twenty, but I wish I had the energy and enthusiasm that could crank out all those words on real paper send it in an envelope with a real stamp, then wait a week for a reply. God, how lazy we are now.

I haven't dug through them yet. There is one from my father when I was at college. Nothing special except now I can read between the lines and know just a little of how he felt. Then he was my Dad, not a real person with doubts, summoning the courage to be strong for us all. I never knew how hard it was. He worked thanklessly at a mind numbing job because he had to. We expected him to. It was "his" job and how he endured is beyond me, but he did. He kept his hope and he kept his optimism. I loved him dearly, but could never tell him so. I think I would have burst out crying and that would have embarrassed us both. I wish now I had.

For those who don't know me, I am a lucky person. I was raised by imperfect, loving parents who saw all their children to adulthood. Their middle years were devoted to us, houses, trips, tears and fears. I wonder, no I know that they gave up dreams for us. I never guessed my Mother wanted to be anything but our Mother. She made it look so easy and loved us without condition. Dad, a talented jazz musician, gave up a career in music. He played simple tunes with chords and changes I will never know. He aldo made it look easy and he never gave it up. He played piano, toyed with the guitar and wrote songs till his dying day.

One of my greatest discoveries was to find a few minutes of video one night while looking for a blank tape. I could have erased it without knowing it. Now it is one of my treasures. Here it is for you. He was nearly 80 and could not play as he used to. He uncomfortable with the camera and tolerated it for a few minutes. Now it is all I have. I wish I had hours, but minutes will do because I had a lifetime.

Sorry for all the sludge. I never know where these things are going. I have a treasure chest to dig into that I can't begin to talk about. All I can say is thank God form computers, because you could have never read my handwriting. Thanks for coming along.

Facebook StumbleUpon Digg Technorati Delicious Google Bookmark Yahoo


** **