No, this is not going to be a rip-off of George Carlin’s famous routine. Instead it is more of a melancholy review of times gone by. See, I am 51 now and my son is 15. When I first moved here I was 42 & he was 6. Not a big move age-wise for me, but light years for him. Because I just went through the stuff in his room, and that’s where the memories slammed me. Here’s what I came across -
- A Hot Wheels slot-car track.
- Stuffed animals
- Various board games “For ages 12 and under”
- A half-finished log cabin kit
- A model airplane kit that never really worked right
- Jigsaw puzzles
- His artwork
And I had to make hard decisions – what to toss, what to keep. For certain, none of that stuff holds value to my son, but each one just floods me with thoughts of where were & what we were doing. But I can’t keep this stuff anymore!
So now all of that resides on my devil strip. With one exception – the artwork. I made a vow when my son was 2 years old that I would keep every bit of artwork he ever created. I am not going to break that vow. Besides, he will be famous one day & those ‘portraits of the artists as a young man’ will hold some value. If not in the open market, then with me. Always.
But the memories are also pleasant, as they are proof of the good times we have shared. Now my son has an ipod, a laptop & a Wii. He likes to school me in Wii tennis.
Life moves on.