Yesterday evening the excessive rain inspired me to begin the daunting task of clearing out the larger side of our garage in hopes that I might soon be able to pull the car all the way into the garage to load and unload my crew. But, before I reached the point of actually doing something about it myself, I had to go through my usual process of accusing the Spouse of hoarding and junking up the garage with large boxes of tools, sports equipment, old school books, etc.
As it turns out, I might be guilty of some mild hoarding myself.
While sifting through way more junk than I care to admit, I did run across a couple of good finds.
The first one, my childhood lovie, Curious George… the original.
I think the fact that the “Curious George” letters are worn completely off his sweatshirt is a good indicator of how well he was loved. I don’t care how much they revise his character or how many shows and movies they recreate featuring the mischievous monkey, in my mind there will only ever be one George, even if he is a little faded. Finding him reminds me of a line from Margery William’s The Velveteen Rabbit…
“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When {someone} loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”
George was real to me. It’s no wonder my own children have a thing for him, too.
I also came across this:
My diary, diary, diary. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to break the tiny lock on it yet. But, apparently I wasn’t much into writing in the late eighties because I’ve peeked in to discover only one page with words on it dated “New Year’s Eve, 1987.” And, that’s it. I figure 1988 must have been one happening new year.
Later, I found what might be my favorite discovery of all… a Rubbermaid full of old greeting cards. I’ve long had a thing for stationery and cards and basically all things paper, so I’ve always found it hard to part with handwritten notes and cards from holidays and special occasions. When we moved a few years ago, I threw out a ton of old cards. But, I’m so glad these somehow survived the purging.
In this first stash are the sympathy cards family and friends sent and kept sending in the days and weeks after we lost my dad. I haven’t read through them in almost seven years. But, doing so now brings back a flood of memories… not only of him, but of the way so many people ministered to me and my family during that time. This stack of cards reminds me that it only takes a few minutes to sit down and write a note or a card that can mean more than the sender may ever know to the person on the other side of the mailbox. No matter how far technology takes us, there will always be something special about a “snail mail” card.
And, this find… two of the last cards I ever received from my grandparents. These Valentine’s Day cards:
Three out of four of my grandparents suffered with dementia for several years before their deaths, so I especially like to see and study their handwriting. I like remembering them as they were when they were well. I’ll never forget the time Meme, my grandmother was dealing with the stress of acting as a round-the-clock caregiver for my grandfather, and she accidentally signed one of her cards to me, “Love, MeMeMe and Papaw.” We kidded her for years about that extra Me {she needed one!}, and she thought it was just as funny as we did. In fact, if I could find that card I’d frame it just to remember the way she could laugh at herself.
I wish I could report that the garage is in great shape now and ready to house a car. But, sadly, I only made it through about five bins before becoming overwhelmed with the task and being needed for baths and bedtime rituals. It’s a work-in-progress. But stumbling across an occasional treasure is good motivation…
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