Opening My Past

Opening the dusty boxes in my basement I vaguely knew what was inside, but at each pull of the faded newspaper that wrapped my precious keepsakes, I was surprised at the things I had kept. There was of course the high school diploma and tassel, my clay handprint from kindergarten, a box of toy cars that the paint (probably lead paint, but I didn’t chew on them – good thing) had worn off from many hours of play.

Then I dug deeper, and found the collection of jacks (probably also with lead paint), 9 vinyl records (45’s if you can believe it – my favorite was “I’d Like to Teach The World to Sing” (but this version was “I’d Like To Buy The World A Coke”), not to mention “I Knew You When” by Donny Osmond (FYI - I once had a purple bicycle that I called Donny) and “Afternoon Delight” by Johnny Carver – I truly didn’t understand the words to that one until I was much older) and a box of dried blue and yellow flowers from the bouquet I carried at my first wedding. I can only guess that I forgot they were in there – why on earth would I keep that?? Two Roi-Tan cigar boxes held rocks, stolen from Mother Earth on our many family picnics and camping trips. I liked the boxes, with their flip top lid and sweet smell of dad’s cigars, as much as the rocks.

Wrapped in bubble wrap was a china tea set that I hardly played with as a girl – I was busy in the dirt with those toy cars, remember? But somehow I thought to save it - for my “someday” daughter. I once browsed ebay and saw the same set for an asking price of $20. The sticker on the box on mine, from Woolworth’s, reads $2.79. That’s an average gain of 47¢ a year since I was 7! Compares to the stock market these days, don’t you think? And that pretty much sums up the value of all the things I have saved, things from childhood and teen years. Of course, the personal value far exceeds that. I’ve saved these things because, at one time at least, they meant something to me. Sifting through the box of cartoons and scraps cut out of newspapers I found only a few that I could recall the reason for keeping. One large envelope held every love note that Mark left me in the first few years we were married. How could I just toss those?

I found old journals – I’ve been “growing” into this writer persona all my life – and spiral notebooks filled with poems of unrequited love, joy of rainbows, sadness of rain. Let’s say I’m not pursuing a poetry career for a reason. I have a “Birthday Book” filled with artwork from the Metropolitan Museum in New York and the notations of birthdays of family and friends from high school. I received the book as an award for my submission of a poem to the high school’s literary magazine, The Lodger. I can still recall the poem’s first line:

“Out on the horizon, a ship goes slowly by”

One surprise was finding the Rosie Doll, a perfect image of Rosie O’Donnell. I remember the year I actually asked for it as a gift – birthday or Christmas I don’t recall – but now, well, it’s kinda creepy. Press her tummy and she says “dreams come true with Rosie” and “what a cutie patootie” (Actually I say that to Erica a lot – she is pretty cute, you know!). What on earth am I going to do with Rosie??

I’m sure that I can narrow down what is truly important to keep. But the dilemma I have all along, from when we were cleaning out Dad’s things, and later Mom’s things, and then Aunt Jean’s things, and now my things, is that all of these things once meant something, and throwing them into the trash seems so callous, so ridiculous, and pretty irresponsible. I can only hope to find a new home for these things – my daughter has claimed several things, including the china tea set – but mostly I want someone to value them the same way that I once did, and still do, somewhat. The trouble is finding that person. Would you be interested in taking a slightly dusty Rosie doll off my hands?