.....moments become memories

Yogis,
There is something about December that draws memories to the surface. The year winding down, holiday traditions lived once again and the winter quiet all cause me to remember……

This thread began with a gift my father received last year. An online package called Storyworth which emails him questions on a weekly basis, acting as thought starters to, in the purest sense, write his memoir. His answers were shared in real time with the family. We read about his childhood recollections of roaming the streets of Manhattan, his stint in the army where he was stationed with Elvis, meeting my mom in a bar and memories of his ancestors and how theirs paths eventually led to ours.

Memories…..

My dad was finishing his book as Thanksgiving neared and it all got me thinking about the stacks of VHS tapes stored in their couch ottomans, gathering dust. All of those years of him holding that cameraman sized VHS recorder on his shoulder to capture our trips, parties and holidays were at risk of slipping away. I offered to take them and figure out how to get them digitized.

There are new internet companies that sell you a box to ship your tapes in, but after reading the reviews I became nervous. Was I willing to send off all our family memories with the hope that I would A, eventually get a thumb drive back and B, receive it before next summer? Some local digging uncovered a guy in a building in Bethesda who would meet me out front for the hand off, keep me updated via email and have them ready in a week. I chose this. 

While waiting, recollections began rising and I spent the week telling stories of my dad in classes. The more I told, the more I remembered. Diving deeper into some memories which have lain dormant in my cells.

Soon after, two USB drives were in my hands, which I quickly boxed, wrapped and mailed to my parents and sister for Christmas….knowing they would have already forgotten that I had taken the tapes. Sending them memories that we all share.

I sat alone to watch some of them the days leading to Christmas. Tearing up as I watched my young father, sitting with a glass of red wine interviewing his father, making sure that the memories of that generation would be captured. The thread continuing to weave us closer.

On Christmas I ushered our boys into the family room to share scenes of us descending the staircase on early morning Christmas 1993. Watching myself as I carried my 6-month-old and helped the other two decipher who got what. A young mother. Barely room for all of us to gather around the tree in our old house. Remembering that moment, but at the time not realizing it would become a memory.

My grandparents wedding long before any of us were even a thought. Beach vacations which continue to this day. Watching family members laughing and dancing who no longer walk this earth, but in hearing them I remember what they felt like. Realizing how much I look and act like mom.

Watching these moments from afar I know that I was the creator of each of them. Watching how I spun my life.

My grandson watched with me, still a little young to understand how he was seeing his father’s mother’s father’s father, yet some day he will. And the thread will continue on……..

I remember,
SARAH