A (Then) Four-Year-Old Questions Memory

The little girl continues to ask questions. Some demand attention right away. Others require some thought. Some just seem to dangle in-between wistful and wishful.

Not long ago, Hannah started talking and began with these quizzical two words, “Remember when…?” She then went on to explain some scenario in the recent past we had shared as family.

All I could do was smile. I took a quick glance back at my many years over the depth and width of memories I had indexed. I then wondered exactly how deep and wide the memory bank of a then four-year-old could be. I could only be amused that at such a tender age Hannah was already reminiscing.

The more I think about it though I want to share with Hannah a few things about memory and remembering. So, Hannah, as you grow older, hold tight to those times with family and friends that make you smile and laugh. Recall those good times when you need a lift. Remember those times when you miss some of those people with whom you shared that time. Those memories will, at times, make you laugh or smile or maybe inspire you to keep moving forward. Hold on to those selected pieces of time that you remember as being so special and so unique because those times are truly special and unique.

That said, not all your memories will be good ones. People will hurt and disappoint you. Things will happen that are beyond your control that may leave you disillusioned or reeling. When these things happen you will want to block them out of your mind but will find you just won’t be able to do so. You will discover that these things are like having a fresh wound which hurts so bad that it just won’t allow you to concentrate on other things. Know that when you hurt that way that, as your dad, I wish I had some magical spell to make it better but from my own experience I know you just have to work through it. It will get better with time. The memory though will remain. Here is something else I know about when that type of memory comes up…let it back in, think about it but don’t live in that long ago moment. Learn from it instead. Own the bad memories in such a way to make things ahead better.

The good memories and the bad ones share one major thing. If you choose to do so, you can live in either. You can get so caught up in reliving the good old days that you miss out on making new and different memories. You can also live so entrenched in the bad things you recall that you never leave that dark place. There is a time and a place for both, so live life, make memories and take note of those memories from time to time.

I write these short essays in part so that some of our time together is left behind, memorialized in some way. There are a lot of things to know and do in life, some of it important for just a short time but it all takes up time and space. Life moves so quickly we hardly notice the speed until one day we look back and note the distance we have come. This is why I try to ride the brakes on our lives together. I want to remember the first step you took. I want to recall the funny things you say. I want to ponder the questions you ask from a pure and innocent heart. I want to remember as many of these things as I can. I want to share them with family and friends. I also want you to know how these things made very special memories for me and your Mom, and, hopefully, for you as well, maybe if not at the moment it happened but after you learn how treasured those memories are to others.

I say all this because a day will likely come, years removed from the day I put these very words to paper. You, I and your Mom will be together somewhere. The moment will be quiet. Maybe it will be on your wedding day. Maybe it will be on the eve of some major decision one or all us will have to make. Maybe it will even be when one of us is nearing our own mortality. It will be in some moment where, without any doubt, memories will be made. One of us will turn to the other two and say these two quizzical words, “Remember when…?” What follows may be some memory about some ordinary thing that happened long ago. It will be some moment stuck like glue to our very being as a family so much so that each one of us smiles and one of us replies with another question, “How could I ever forget?”

What's Left

I stood in an open area of a retirement home. Here I watched as two residents happened upon each other. These two ladies ended up standing close to one another briefly chatting. Still, I could tell the two weren’t quite comfortable with the moment. Casual glances between the two evolved into closer examination. Finally, a certain recognition fell onto the face of one of the ladies. She then spoke to the other lady, “Are you Emma Jones?” The other lady grinned slightly, then in a world-weathered voice cracked, “Honey, I’m what’s left of her."

That happened a few years ago and I can’t help but think of it from time to time and smile. Despite the humor in that moment, growing older is a reality most of us will face, and it is one reality I am not certain I will truly enjoy.

Still, I guess when you hit a certain point in life you shift some of your focus away from some things to other things. Some of the things you felt so passionate about at a certain stage in life no longer mean as much. For some, lessons learned from experience tend to turn a hard head into a softer heart while for others, it just seems to make them turn into a cauldron of simmering bitterness.

I have seen enough of life to see people grow old. I have seen enough of that to know that growing old is no fun. I have seen loved ones who have a place in my heart no one else could replace grow old making me understand how watching them grow old is no fun either. And, I know if God grants me more time on earth I will follow this same path.

So, now, November settles in. November, that time of year that sits here just damp enough so you can smell the fallen leaves sticking to the dirt of the earth. November that time of year that allows us to see through the forest of trees to the other side where the light of the sky meets the gray horizon. November that month that rushes in the premature cold of January in sharp gusts in the wind.

Maybe it is in this stark setting where the very being of our lives seems so transparent. Distinct seasons come and go without fail one after another, spring follows winter, summer follows spring then summer gives way to this, fall, first in glorious colors then a monochromatic landscape. Maybe it is here where we look at growing older and realize it follows all those other seasons and how those seasons can be likened to our lives.

It’s all enough to stop and be grateful for the measure of health held at the moment. It’s enough to wish for more seasons, a wintertime snowfall, a bouquet of spring flowers and a sandy beach in summertime. And it’s enough to wish for one more autumn, even in its most stark moments, just to contemplate what’s left of life and what’s left of us to make what’s left of both truly worthwhile

Minding Manners

As parents, there are so many things we want for our child. Yes, sometimes those things are the shiny, sparkly things they want even though you know that thing will lose its sparkle in their eyes almost as soon as it is obtained. More often than not though it is the intangible things you want for your child, things such as peace of mind, a good heart, a forgiving spirit, a good work ethic, things that you hope you can instill in her as she grows. These things take a lot of work, sweat and prayer though.

One of the things we want for Hannah is for her to use manners. We do want her to address people with “yes” and “no” and to even add “sir” or “ma’am” after those words, even in today’s overly sensitive politically correct times. We feel it is a matter of respect and honor not some secretly coded way to offend someone. That said, being able to have a five-year-old process why doing such things is important is an uphill battle. Then, somedays, a gleam of hope appears.

Recently, Hannah and I were riding home from school. As we pulled onto our street, I spotted one of our neighbors in her yard hard at work with some flowers. I casually mentioned, “There’s Mrs. Barbara.” Hannah began scanning the neighborhood until she saw our neighbor then she announced how she wanted to visit Mrs. Barbara.

I should pause here to tell you a bit about these neighbors, Mr. Jim and Mrs. Barbara. They are great neighbors. They have lived in their house for many years, so much so that they seem to quietly be considered the go-to people not just on our street but in our whole neighborhood. They have experienced great loss in their personal lives yet never turned sour or bitter over those things. I have known them to work with the homeless, the despondent, children without parents, those with addictions and fellow neighbors who just needed someone who would listen without judging. As long as we have lived next to them, the neighborhood children often gather on their porch as Mrs. Barbara hands out popsicles.

Hannah doesn’t know about all the good these two do and have done. She doesn’t appreciate how having such good neighbors is one less worry her Mom and I have to carry from day to day. She understands though how just visiting their porch can result in a free popsicle for her. So, on the day when she saw Mrs. Barbara hard at work in her yard, I suspected that Hannah may not have really wanted to just visit with her but instead just really wanted a popsicle I paused. Then when Hannah confirmed my suspicion that a popsicle would really be good at that moment I knew I had to say something.

I told Hannah that Mrs. Barbara was working hard so interrupting her while she was busy was not very neighborly. I also told Hannah that just because Mrs. Barbara would likely stop her work to go inside her house just so she could give Hannah a popsicle was no reason to visit. I told her sometimes we visit with others because we want to do so not so that we can get something from them.

Despite my attempts to dissuade her, Hannah was still determined to visit Mrs. Barbara. We exited our car. We walked out of our garage onto our driveway then on to our walkway. By this time I am in my usual place, about three to five steps behind Hannah. Partway up our walkway, Hannah stopped. She focused her eyes on Mrs. Barbara in the next yard over from our yard. Mrs. Barbara, who had not noticed us, quietly continued to work in a flower bed. I asked Hannah why she stopped. She then told me she didn’t want to bother Mrs. Barbara because she looked like she was very busy.

For a moment I could not believe my ears. It seemed as if my short talk had made it through to Hannah. She saw with her own two eyes Mrs. Barbara hard at work then thought it best to not disturb her so that our neighbor could finish what she was doing. This seemed to me to be a big step. Hannah would trade off a popsicle for being a good neighbor.

I must admit it was a proud parenting moment. I tried reinforcing Hannah’s good decision. I told her there would be more appropriate times to visit the neighbors. I told her there would even be times when just visiting for a popsicle would be a good thing. I then told her how proud I was that on this day, she was being a good neighbor by not interrupting Mrs. Barbara so she could keep working.

Later that evening we sat around our supper table. I was chomping at the  bit to let Jennifer know how Hannah had wanted to visit next door but saw our neighbor busy and thought visiting them some other time would be better than that moment. I wanted to let Jennifer know about the flash of maturity our little five-year-old had shown. As I was partway through explaining this the air rattled with a loud noise. Jennifer and I looked at each other then turned our eyes to the end of the table to find Hannah, standing in her chair laughing at the loud-as-thunder burp she had just expelled.

I looked back at Jennifer who glanced back at me, both of us trying to suppress laughter. As Hannah’s earlier gesture of thoughtfulness escaped my thoughts at the moment, I quietly said, “Never mind. We apparently still have some work to do.”