This Is Your Life
I should be well on the way to finishing a book proposal - the first of quite a few I need to work on in the next several weeks - but I got waylaid by a nostalgic detour as I unearthed a huge box of mementoes from my past (I was looking for some material to jumpstart the overview of my bonggacious org's anniversary coffeetable book). I'm strangely sentimental in that I may throw away gifts after they've served their purpose (or even give them away brand-new if I have no need for them) but I will always keep the card or the note that came with them. I keep old letters, birthday cards, and even those short sweet post-its that came with some other stuff like yesterday's class notes or other borrowed whatnots. Tonight I opened up a box (I think I have 2 or 3 big ones) that contained so much of what my life was and who came and departed from it. My old Montessori keepsake book (yargh...was that really me with the big *yes, big* eyes and the apple-haircut). My daily notes from my "sisters" Doyet and Emily: we had a phase in college when we'd write each other silly little letters using the most creative methods available (unfortunately I suppose mine were pretty un-creative). Ken's cartoons and freaky pre-Christian-conversion blood-and-gore Christmas cards from LA. The package wrapping from someone who sent me something (I don't remember what) many, many years ago (come to think of it, I'd forgotten I'd ever known that *someone* until I opened the box today. Out of sight, out of mind talaga) . Bluebooks from college (I got a 2.25 in a Spanish 3 exam? Que mal!) and classcards from law school (when 2.25 was the highest grade we aspired for). My law school acceptance letter (whoopeee!). My "welcome, new lawyer!" letter from the IBP and all the newspapers announcing that OLIVEROS, M.L.E.B. made it (lovingly collected and filed away by my proud paternal unit). An unsolicited job offer from Palmera Homes. A "thanks-but-we're-not-looking" letter from PECABAR. Souvenir programmes, invitations to events and various formal balls, sorority photos. Greg's witty greetings in his familiar scrawl ("To Honey-poo...from Greggy-doo"), Noel's blase salutations. Expressions from the heart, tangible reminders that continue to exist in my little storage unit of a VCR box even if their authors no longer do. This was my life. These were - are - the people I cared for.One day my kids will rummage through this box - bad '80's photos, ticket stubs, letters (perhaps even love letters from their Dad, yeeehaa) and all, and say: Mom, you were such a doofus. And I'll probably tell them, as I tuck away their piano recital pieces or Mother Day's card into my nth box of stored memories: yes, my darlings...and I still am.
posted by Honey Oliveros @ 10:41 PM
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