Box Full of Letters
When I got home yesterday my wife was in the midst of what she called a "House Purging", which is really just a fun term for going through old stuff, throwing things out, and generally de-cluttering the place. We'll be doing this again and again as we prepare to put out house on the market early next year.
One the boxes she dragged out of our closet and into our bedroom was my "Memory Box". It contained, among other things, the following:
- Old copies of Judy Blume's Tales of a 4th Grade Nothing, Superfudge, and Then Again, Maybe I Won't. In the coming year I'm thinking Bailey might enjoy reading the latter and, as his father, I like the idea of him potentially enjoying a book that 1) Was a great read when I was a kid and 2) Has been banned or has attempted to be banned at certain school libraries by parents I'd probably dislike. :)
- Yearbooks that dated back as far as 6th Grade, along with highlighted scripts from the various plays I was in in high school, various certificates, and some papers and essays I was particularly proud of.
- Old journals full of mostly poetry. Bad poetry. Prose in the style of a Bon Jovi b-side bad!
- Some rock and roll collectibles, including a Metallica wall banner, a Black Crowes hat, and two band/tour t-shirts: Red Hot Chili Peppers and Love/Hate. They're kinda "vintage" now and I would not be surprised if Bailey wanted to steal them.
- One of the best letters I ever received. I got it just before I left California (as it turns out, for good) for college in Oregon. It came from a girl that I still kinda think of as "one who got away". I read it out loud to Kelly and she said, "Those are the words of a girl who was trying to tell a boy she wished they had more time and only as he was leaving did she realize he could have been something special."
And then there were more letters. A lot of them. All written by my wife... when she was 21/22 and I was 19/20. They spanned from February 1993 -- when we first met and became a couple -- through the end of Summer 1993.
Some of them were letters she wrote on Sunday nights in her dorm room while I was at the campus radio station doing my weekly 10PM to 2AM "show". I'd come in at 2:30 and find them slid under my door. And I remember sometimes they'd floor me so much that I couldn't help but knock on her door by 2:32. :)
Others were written during the summer that followed the school year, when we were apart. She was at home along the Oregon coast and I was about 3 hours away, living with my folks, and delivering pizzas as a summer gig. She wrote letters to me constantly because her parents had always lived paycheck to paycheck and didn't want her running up their long distant bill. This was still pre-internet, and pre-everyone and their mother having a cell phone. We'd talk but I was always the one who needed to call. She had no idea that while I was running up my parents long distance bill that I was saving up my pizza wages to ultimately buy one of the cheaper engagement rings you'd ever find. (Note: She has never 'upgraded' or added to her ring, instead choosing to have it reflect who we were when I asked and when she said 'Yes'. Awwww...)
I read some of them out loud to her and we both shared the same general observation: It was like they'd been written by a different girl/young woman and sent to a different boy/young man. And neither of us made that observation with sadness or some wistful thought of wishing we could be those people once more. Instead it was a nice reminder that people change and their responsibilities change and our lives change. What hasn't changed is what was at the core of those letters: Two people who had met each other and -- with a pinch of naivety and the surrealism that a higher education/campus environment can provide -- had fallen madly in love. They were beautiful words written by an amazing girl who had met a guy who was unlike anyone before him; who expressed himself pretty damn well and very openly in his own letters and poems and spoken expressions and, in many of her letters, it was like she was trying to 'match' him; to let him know that everything he felt for her was mutual and then some. And it's kind of funny because I can remember how good those letters felt at the time but I never needed reassurances. I was in love, I knew she was in love and... yeah... we're still very in love.
Some of these letters were just flat out embarrassing and made my wife cringe: Tons of "gooey" content, way too many pet nicknames, and enough sugar to make even Cap `n Crunch blush or choke. But they were also genuine and they were how she felt. She's a different person now, as am I, but it was nice to be reminded of who we were and how lucky we remain within who we are.
So the idea behind this "purging" was to throw some things out. And I did. Some of the truly embarrassing letters got tossed or ones that didn't really have a lot to say other than "Hi, I love you so much". But most of them went right back in the box.
There is, after all, a reason I kept them in the first place. And there is still a reason.
J
One the boxes she dragged out of our closet and into our bedroom was my "Memory Box". It contained, among other things, the following:
- Old copies of Judy Blume's Tales of a 4th Grade Nothing, Superfudge, and Then Again, Maybe I Won't. In the coming year I'm thinking Bailey might enjoy reading the latter and, as his father, I like the idea of him potentially enjoying a book that 1) Was a great read when I was a kid and 2) Has been banned or has attempted to be banned at certain school libraries by parents I'd probably dislike. :)
- Yearbooks that dated back as far as 6th Grade, along with highlighted scripts from the various plays I was in in high school, various certificates, and some papers and essays I was particularly proud of.
- Old journals full of mostly poetry. Bad poetry. Prose in the style of a Bon Jovi b-side bad!
- Some rock and roll collectibles, including a Metallica wall banner, a Black Crowes hat, and two band/tour t-shirts: Red Hot Chili Peppers and Love/Hate. They're kinda "vintage" now and I would not be surprised if Bailey wanted to steal them.
- One of the best letters I ever received. I got it just before I left California (as it turns out, for good) for college in Oregon. It came from a girl that I still kinda think of as "one who got away". I read it out loud to Kelly and she said, "Those are the words of a girl who was trying to tell a boy she wished they had more time and only as he was leaving did she realize he could have been something special."
And then there were more letters. A lot of them. All written by my wife... when she was 21/22 and I was 19/20. They spanned from February 1993 -- when we first met and became a couple -- through the end of Summer 1993.
Some of them were letters she wrote on Sunday nights in her dorm room while I was at the campus radio station doing my weekly 10PM to 2AM "show". I'd come in at 2:30 and find them slid under my door. And I remember sometimes they'd floor me so much that I couldn't help but knock on her door by 2:32. :)
Others were written during the summer that followed the school year, when we were apart. She was at home along the Oregon coast and I was about 3 hours away, living with my folks, and delivering pizzas as a summer gig. She wrote letters to me constantly because her parents had always lived paycheck to paycheck and didn't want her running up their long distant bill. This was still pre-internet, and pre-everyone and their mother having a cell phone. We'd talk but I was always the one who needed to call. She had no idea that while I was running up my parents long distance bill that I was saving up my pizza wages to ultimately buy one of the cheaper engagement rings you'd ever find. (Note: She has never 'upgraded' or added to her ring, instead choosing to have it reflect who we were when I asked and when she said 'Yes'. Awwww...)
I read some of them out loud to her and we both shared the same general observation: It was like they'd been written by a different girl/young woman and sent to a different boy/young man. And neither of us made that observation with sadness or some wistful thought of wishing we could be those people once more. Instead it was a nice reminder that people change and their responsibilities change and our lives change. What hasn't changed is what was at the core of those letters: Two people who had met each other and -- with a pinch of naivety and the surrealism that a higher education/campus environment can provide -- had fallen madly in love. They were beautiful words written by an amazing girl who had met a guy who was unlike anyone before him; who expressed himself pretty damn well and very openly in his own letters and poems and spoken expressions and, in many of her letters, it was like she was trying to 'match' him; to let him know that everything he felt for her was mutual and then some. And it's kind of funny because I can remember how good those letters felt at the time but I never needed reassurances. I was in love, I knew she was in love and... yeah... we're still very in love.
Some of these letters were just flat out embarrassing and made my wife cringe: Tons of "gooey" content, way too many pet nicknames, and enough sugar to make even Cap `n Crunch blush or choke. But they were also genuine and they were how she felt. She's a different person now, as am I, but it was nice to be reminded of who we were and how lucky we remain within who we are.
So the idea behind this "purging" was to throw some things out. And I did. Some of the truly embarrassing letters got tossed or ones that didn't really have a lot to say other than "Hi, I love you so much". But most of them went right back in the box.
There is, after all, a reason I kept them in the first place. And there is still a reason.
J