First, it was dark and wet. I remember a bright light, and being forced rapidly downward. Obviously I’m kidding. I actually have no recollection of anything before kindergarten, so I’ll have to start there. I remember the shape of the classroom. When you walked in there was a sink to the left and a small area separated by cupboards from the rest of the room. Inside those cupboards were “don’t break the ice,” “cooties,” and “ants in the pants.” On the other side of them were our desks and a big carpet in the middle for story time. I remember I would always stare at the top of the cupboards, dreaming that the school would be taken over by bad guys and I would perch myself up there, using my bow and arrow to save the day. On a side note, I would continue these dreams of fighting bad guys in school, up through to the present day. In 3rd grade I sincerely believed that Professor X would show up and grant me a single one of the X-men’s powers to help protect our educational establishment. I spent many a lesson in my own world, trying to decide between Cyclops laser beam eyes or Wolverines claws. Why wasn’t I more popular with the ladies?
My wife is better than most people I know at remembering things, or at least recording them. Every morning she reads her bible and journals. In them she talks about her feelings and emotions. I’m not allowed to read these mind you, but she has an actual source to look back on her life. She has them all the way back to elementary school. Someday when she gets to heaven and God wants to talk about her life she’ll actually have a point of reference. God could accuse me of murder or something, and I’m going to have to be like, “oh, o.k. I’ll take your word for it, don’t really remember that, but I probably did.” Hopefully God’s not a liar, or I’m in big trouble.
Even today, as I’m writing this and trying to think of these events in my past, what comes rushing to the surface are an eclectic mix of both major and minor narratives.
There are beautiful and weird moments: When I was 12 I saw a man in a white suit in the middle of the woods, he hid behind a tree when he saw I was looking. When I was 16 I hiked to the top of a mountain in Colorado with my dad and my brother, and we slid down the sides covered in snow on our backpacks. It was one of those moments where you wouldn’t rather be in any other place in the world. When I was 18, I sat behind a beautiful curly haired girl that didn’t know I existed. But somehow I married her. At 22 I boarded a jet ski with an acquaintance and tempted death, an event that would serve as an introduction to one of the deepest most meaningful friendships I’ve ever had. And fives years ago, I got to hold my little girl for the first time and watch as someone who was growing inside my wife for 9 months, finally got to say hello.
And there are painful ones: In 4th grade my mom was late picking me up from baseball practice. Everyone else had left except for some kid named Woody, so I sat in the back of his mom’s Oldsmobile and started crying my eyes out. That day I decided in my mind that my parents were trying to abandon me, or that something horrible had happened to them. The rest of the year I couldn’t leave my moms side. She had to take a job in the school library just so I would go to school. (Again, I don’t see why girls weren’t more into me in elementary school). I remember when the whole class started calling me Scotty Condom in the 6th grade, or in high school when a girl I liked told me, “you think your funny, but you’re really not at all.” I remember the first time a girl broke up with me, and crying all night long. And a surreal day sitting on a beach watching my kids play when I got the phone call telling me my granny had died.
I suppose we remember only the things that make some tangible difference in our lives. But even that seems like pulling for an answer, and quite frankly it doesn’t suffice. Because regardless of an ability or inability to bring up a picture of a moment in your brain, each and every second of our lives adds something to who we are and where we are going. Even more so, every interaction we have with another human being shapes some part of our existence.
We’ve just gotten back to Tanzania after spending a little over a month in the states. In that time we attended a couple conventions and spent some very meaningful moments with friends and family. In short, we made some new memories. And although not all of those moments, those set pieces in time, will permanently indent themselves in my brain, they have most certainly contributed to our lives and to whom we are deep inside. Maybe 10 years from now I won’t remember half of what happened on that trip. But rest assured, each conversation, each laugh, each smile, and each hug made an impression on the journey, and is so very much appreciated. Thank you to all those who took time to give us some time, and thanks for walking this road with us.
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