Was going through my bedroom closet the other day. Came upon a box containing all sorts of photos and mementoes from my working days. Many pictures of happy times with friends and co-workers that I haven’t seen or heard from in years. There were small plaques and paper weights and mugs given to me at speaking engagements and such. I ran out of space for them long ago.
It’s really time for me to put them out, but somehow I am having trouble bringing myself to do it. All of these precious friends were part of my past and, in some small way, influenced my life. To throw away their photos is to throw away those sweet memories as well.
So they’re going back in the box and back in the closet. God willing, I’ll dig them up in another few years and enjoy the memories all over again. There is much to be said for honoring and preserving the past. Some day I’ll be gone and my family will probably throw all this stuff out. But these relics have meaning for me, and I want them around, even if I seldom look at them. Is that weird?
Not weird at all. I think that’s one of the few rewards of aging.
I agree Mike