When he watches the Inauguration on TV in CA tomorrow I hope our grandson remembers the hot summer day when he stood on the balcony at the Capitol and looked over the Mall. That's what I love about living here - its taught me that every where you turn you can touch history, past, present, and future. All you have to do is open yourself to it.
When Jim and I went to the Holy Land more than ten years ago we bought this bottle of wedding wine in Cana. We planned to keep it for our 50th Wedding Anniversary. It gathered dust in a closet for twelve years. By the time our 50th rolled around it had darkened and I could tell it was thicker, probably unpalatable. But I could not bring myself to throw it away.
Until this week. My struggle with all the stuff in our closets has been a tough lesson.
It doesn't make sense to keep the bottle but we could have a "postcard" - a digital image. No, its not like holding the bottle, feeling its weight, cradling the bottle to connect with the afternoon we walked through the narrow streets of Cana. But a post card never is, is it? So, I soaked off the label - something to touch to remind me that we once had a real bottle of Wedding Wine we bought in Cana.
I guess the question is - why do things have such meaning for me? They are just things, right?
Not to me. I am one of those people who has an attic museum outlook - things have history. Could it come from living in Washington where the Smithsonian is the nation's attic.
No, that's too easy, too pat. I think its has to do with remembering and hoping to be remembered. Yep, that makes sense. These bits are my attempts at quilting life - my life.