Nostalgia

When I was younger I was a bit of a pack rat--holding on to pictures, report cards, class notebooks, even random notes of no consequence passed in class. Perhaps it was all of the moves I made once I left my parents' house (15 in 17 years), but somewhere along the way all that sentimental stuff has been reduced to two boxes in my attic.

I don't like to think of myself as unsentimental, but "things" don't really mean that much to me. Even the children's baby clothes have not been particularly difficult for me to sell or give away. I like to savor each moment, then move on.

I gained a new respect for holding onto things today. Last weekend, my husband's parents brought two huge lawn bags full of things from their recent purge of my husband's childhood room. He tends to be a bit of a pack rat himself, so the thought of what types of things he might have left behind 20 years ago when he left for college was intriguing. The bags have been sitting in my garage waiting for him to have the 'free time' to sort them---so today I opened them up.

The first bag was filled with an assortment of complete randomness from a huge package of unused bottle rockets, old textbooks, a transistor radio, even a bottle of oil for baseball gloves and a tin full of various prescription skin creams from the 80s. One of the class notebooks had a Bush/Quayle 88 campaign sticker on it! The jackpot of that bag was a dozen old trophies from his days as a young golfer, fisherman and soccer player. My children were thrilled! I allowed them to each pick two for their rooms and tonight they are proudly displayed under the lamps right by their beds.

The second bag was equally entertaining...2 dozen t-shirts from high school and early college, from Hard Rock Cafe to KA party shirts. There was even a Young Life shirt with neon print lettering! When I discovered a grey high school football shirt I noticed it seemed a bit small in comparison. Turns out it was a midriff shirt used to go under his pads during practice. The length was perfect for my 5 year old sons. They both spotted it simultaneously and just when I feared I was going to have a real showdown on my hands I miraculously found a second one...identical to the first! What are the chances?

My boys wore their new shirts proudly all afternoon--and I got a kick out of the thought of my 20-years-ago-husband being told that his sons would one day wear those shirts.

Even more rewarding was the look on my husband's face when he came home from work and saw them...what a precious Daddy grin!

Tonight as I downloaded today's photos from my camera, these of R & P playing basketball with my Dad caught my eye. I have a very similar one from my own 5 year old driveway basketball days with Dad. (Ironically, it even has my Dad's deceased father, Pap, in the background.)

And it hit me. This is tomorrow's nostalgia. One day that will be my husband playing basketball with my grandsons...and I'll probably tell them stories about their Daddies when they were their age.

But they probably won't be wearing any of their old shirts. :-)