December 11, 2013

The Talking Boxes of My Life

Recently, I have begun the insurmountable task of going through the boxes of my life.

Most of these boxes reside in our attic.    Part of this attic is truly designed for storage---plywood floors not heated---smells musty---you get the picture.

The other part is actually just a large room finished like the rest of the house.

Throughout the 28 years that we have lived in this house, this room has served all kinds of purposes.  It was a guest room for some years, a play room for other years, and a private room for the now deceased cat for many years.  For the past 6 or 7 years it has become the land of forgotten boxes.  These boxes make the room look like something from the Hoarder's Show.  To me---these boxes look like stories that need to be told.

There are boxes of art supplies for projects yet to do on snowy days. There are boxes of baby clothes and dolls and toys for future grandchildren to enjoy.   There are boxes of memories that my girls have collected throughout childhood.  There are boxes of old financial records. There are boxes of record albums.

Mostly, the space is filled with boxes and boxes, and bins and bins, and baskets and baskets of old cards, letters, photos, and VHS tapes.

All of these boxes seem to be saying to me, "Listen to me!  I have things to tell you."

I  think of excuses as to why all of these boxes and bins and baskets of photos, letters, and VHS tapes have not been organized properly.  WHY am I saving them?

Maybe it was because my mother died when I was 21 years old and I  feel the need to save and record everything.  If anyone reading this blog ever mailed me a card or hard copy letter---I probably still have it.   If I ever took a picture of you---I probably have it still.  If I ever took a video of you---yep---it's there.  I don't throw this kind of thing away.  Ever.  (My email boxes are also full with tens of thousands of emails--I don't trash those either:)

I absolutely love the boxes that contain handwritten letters and cards.

I cherish each and every handwritten letter I have received from anyone. These treasures are very personal.  Emails seem sterile in comparison.

I count as some of my most precious possessions the handwritten letters that my mother and Clark's mom--wrote to me.  One of the worst problems with trying to go through these boxes is that invariably I will come across a special letter.   Women from my mom and Clark's mom's generation were especially skilled with pen on paper.   Even though they have both passed away, their words come alive when I read the letters.

I sit there on the floor reading these long lost letters and they bring back in vivid detail my memory of the time they were written and I laugh, or cry, and then a hour has passed and nothing is finished......the boxes talk and they are still there.  I know when I read them that they loved me and cared for me and it's reaffirming.

The photos speak and take lots of time to go through too..... but....the worst (best) are the video tapes. They take up the most physical space and they actually do speak and provide the most compelling slices of life.

One tape can take an entire day for me to finish.

I was one of those people who recorded almost everything on VHS tape that my family did.    No activity was too unimportant to record on tape.

I cherish these tapes more than I can tell you.  My mother died before we all had video taping devices and I can hardly remember what her voice even sounded like.

But....I have actual live real video of my children, my husband, my father, Grandmama and Grandpapa speaking.  They are frozen in time as they were when I recorded them and once I start watching these slices of life I can't get enough.  

Most of these tapes are just me videotaping them doing their day to day activities but I also have tapes of formal events such as holidays, recitals, and many performances of theatre and dance.

My absolute favorite tapes are the  interview tapes.  I love to tape my family and ask them questions and interview them as if I were trying to find out their deep dark secrets.  My girls would quickly grow tired of my questions but the grandparents seemed to love it.  It was almost as if they realized how important this recording of history could actually be at some point in the future.

When I tape my my father he always tries to perform his silly hand trick and then he turns serious and starts talking about what a good life he has had and he always ends our taping sessions with, "The main thing is to try not to get too excited."  (This makes sense only if you know my father.)

The most poignant of all tapes is a series of tapes I recorded of Clark's mom once she learned she had cancer.  I asked her about her fears and hopes for the future and she spoke beautifully and eloquently with such honesty and sincerity that I get chills just thinking about it.  (Her tapes are in a safer place than my attic as I know how important they will be for future generations:)

So....back to the talking boxes as my Granny would say, "Talking about it is not the same as doing something about it."

But these boxes have a story to tell....and I am going to tell it.  Let the truth ring!