It scares me that so many memories fade as I get older. That’s part of the reason why I write my ramblings and nonsense down.
The memories of my youth, all those meaning- less moments that are seemingly of no value to anyone but me — but they are mine and the ones I remember and cherish the most.
Memories like sitting on my granddaddy’s lap as he cut tomatoes and he layered them with sugar. Or the ones where my grandma cooked bacon in a cast iron skillet and then fried eggs in the grease. Those eggs were laced and blackened beyond recognition, but we ate them anyway with buttered toast — and loved them!
The times when all my aunts and uncles would gather with the rest of the family on holidays to play cards. They’d hoot and holler at each other while playing and get fighting mad, and then 30 minutes later laugh and recall every move made and everything would be fine.
All the hunting and fishing trips we took with my dad, the rotten meals we made, and the train wrecks we got into. Or when my mother use to make us memorize Bible scriptures or how she showed me how to make drop biscuits from scratch.
All the things that don’t seem to happen as much anymore, those are the things I remember and long for. Family time.
Nowadays, kids are given phones and tablets to occupy their time instead of fishing poles and BB guns. They need the attention of grown ups in order to grow up. Kids need folks to show them the ropes, give them experiences and things to remember, like we had. Life skills.
Will they remember their high score on Mario Kart or whatever it is that they play? Brag about their favorite episode of SpongeBob? It is a sad state for most folks nowadays; especially kids.
We don’t need to just live life… we need to live a life worth living and one worth remembering.
I sure enjoy being in the presence of my grandkids. Taking them with me and doing stuff that they will remember other than electronic gadgets, isn’t that what it should be all about?
When they have their face buried in those gadgets they have no idea what else is happening around them.
I want them to learn from me, and to know me, to know who I am and how I grew up. The things I learned and what my life was like growing up. I want to help shape their life, and give them some of the same experiences that I had.
Those little moments, like the other night as Mr. Mason and I were coming home from thrashing grain, it was after dark and as I was driving he said “poppa did you wock da door on da combine?” I said “yes why?” He said “good because I weft my stwaberry wem onaid in dare and I don’t want da fwy’s to get in dare and get in my wemonaid!” How cool is that?!
He may not remember that — but I sure will.
If your absence doesn’t bother someone, then your presence never meant anything to them anyway. Do something worth being remembered. Hang with the kids. They’re more fun to be around anyway. And they need all the help they can get.
