Unwrapping memories
I recently came upon a large box I had stored and wondered what it contained. My curiosity got the better of me. As I carefully opened the lid, I was greeted with lumps of crumpled white tissue paper used to fill in the gaps. I immediately tossed them aside in search of the real treasures they protected.
I paused for a second after I retrieved the first item in attempt to guess what was wrapped in the tissue paper. Try as I might, I couldn't remember what it was -- even though I'm sure I placed it there for safe keeping years ago. Both time and the confines of an ordinary cardboard box had shielded me from its memory.
It was only when I unwrapped it that I became reacquainted. Just seeing it awakened my memories from their long nap. They were well-rested and ready to remind me of why I had saved the item many years ago. Even though I had temporarily lost visual contact, I was able to reconnect with it almost instantly.
"Out of sight, out of mind," I heard Mother say on more than one occasion. The older I become, the more I realize how true these words are. If people, places or things become hidden from sight, it only takes a visual spark to stoke the memory-filled fires of our past.
Last weekend I was in my booth at the Mulberry Street Arts and Crafts Festival, where I have sold my creative wares for the last 30 years. It's a place I yearn to be every spring because it guarantees I will see people from my past who trigger many memories. Friends and teachers drop by my booth as do former classmates and members of the church I attended growing up.
My brain is hardly prepared to take on that many memories in just a two-day period, but it somehow manages to open the dam -- allowing memories to come flooding back. They appear at such a rate I have to steady myself a bit to truly recollect and cherish each one of them. All the while, I continue to sell my T-shirts, cookbooks, cards and prints.
Each year always brings one person by my booth who has been so buried in my memory banks that they win the "most tucked away memory" award. Sometimes it takes a photo finish to decide who it will be. But this year, there was no doubt about the winner. In the midst of making change and chit-chatting, a group of ladies approached the front of my booth. I smiled and asked them to let me know if they needed any help.
"Since you asked," one lady began, "I do have a question. Did you ever work at Rich's in Atlanta back in the 1980s?"
I must admit I was a little stunned as I flipped back through that many years in my mind. Arriving back in 1983 and slamming on the brakes, I remembered working at Rich's at Perimeter Mall for a short period of time. It was one of the two "real" jobs I ever held.
"Yes!" I blurted out wondering how this stranger standing in front of me could have possibly known. "I knew that was you," she said with excitement. She went on to say she had moved from Atlanta to Milledgeville about 10 years ago and caught one of my segments on television.
A puzzled look must have still been smeared across my face because she then went on to explain how she worked with me there. She told me she promised herself if she ever saw me in person she was going to ask. "I was right! It is him," she told her friends standing beside her.
I was in shock. How could she remember me from over 30 years ago from our brief crossing of paths in a department store? We reminisced a few minutes before she walked away. I shook my head as I stood beside our 33-year-old son, Blake, who was only a few months old at the time. To be completely honest, I didn't remember her and never would have imagined someone would remember me from the few months I worked at Rich's.
Our memories are amazing things. That is, at least most of the time. Sometimes we have to be reminded to bring something from our past into focus. It can be as simple as coming upon an object or bumping into someone we haven't seen in years.
Whatever it takes, it is fun to unwrap our stored away memories and spend a little time with them. It's our memories that remind us of who we are!
Mark Ballard's column runs each week in The Telegraph. Send your questions or comments to P.O. Box 4232, Macon, GA 31208; call 478-757-6877; email markballard@cox.net; follow him at instagram.com/markcreates; or become a subscriber to Mark's Facebook page.
This story was originally published April 9, 2016 at 7:58 PM with the headline "Unwrapping memories ."