Memory Box

I got a box on the porch today. Not just any box, a HUGE box, big enough for both my kids to sit in (I know because yep, that just happened). While you might suspect this was the workings of some fancy Christmas thing, it was actually a box full of "JUNK." Well, to you it would have looked like junk. To me, it was pure gold--a treasured shower of memories that transpired as I carefully peeled newspapers out one-by-one.

My dad and Kacy are clearing out their old beautiful farmhouse in Roy, Oregon, to get it ready to rent-out while they move to Washington--where my dad just got a job. Even though I never lived in this particular little farm house (my dad married Kacy after I had already moved to California), it somehow collected many boxes worth of my siblings and my "leftovers" from when we all moved out to college and then the world.

Some of the more notable "treasures" were:

--An old band uniform, complete with shoes and the tassle-hat thingy (I spent four years in in it--yet I can't remember what it's really called. Huh.) Why this thing made it into the "keepers" list back at my dad's I'm not so sure, but it was an amazing thing to suck me right back into the throws of high school marching competitions and late-night freezing football games. I miss playing the trumpet...I've kept it up a little, but not nearly as much as I promised my then-teenage-self that I would. I was hard-core--marching, jazz, wind, orchestra, quartets, you name it. I even travelled to Europe to play with the Portland Youth Philharmonic my Junior year. Later, reality caught up with me and I realized the chances of me having a thriving career playing the trumpet were slim. (Irony: I then pursued a career in art. Ha!)

--A queen doll my parents brought back from England, another one from Russia, and several little straw dolls--unknown origin.
I never was much of a "doll" girl, but I really appreciated beautiful things.

--An illustrated children's book--in Spanish--that I'd put together for a class Sophmore year. I forgot I knew that much Spanish at one point. Wow. I also forgot how cool it was to not have a job and spend that much time drawing--the book looks incredible! I'm so proud of my 13-year-old little self!

--Pictures by the pound: my first trip to Disney and Knotts Berry with my marching band. Pictures of my brother and I as preschoolers, and pictures of the whole family "pre-divorce," which are pretty awesome to see. Lots of pictures of my troubled-teen years, the awkwardness is contagious even now as I glance past Prom and Homecoming shots. I went to Prom as a freshman with a senior guy who liked me--I guess. I was so intimidated! I found a beautiful, floor-length, long-sleeved lacy dress to wear. When I met up with my friends to get ready, every other girl had on short, satin spaghetti-strap dress, and I cried. I felt so out of place! This sets the tone for many more blunders I've had with fashion--I never did quite get it. At some point I stopped trying, and that's pretty-much the route I take today. Much less pressure.

--Journals. I had NO IDEA how much I wrote as a kid. And sketched. Holy Moly. Now that I am teaching some of my own 12 and 13-year-olds, my journals are a FANTASTIC look into the mind of an insecure-yet-lovable teenager.

Some teenage-diary favorites:
August 1-- "We were going to see "Waterworld" today, but mom's too nervous about it being too violent. I think Clinton should pass a law that says that if it is "PG13," those aged 13 and up can see it--no buts! Oh well."

August 10th -- "Growing up is scary! Right now I'm not a kid or a grown up, but I often feel both sides, luckily someone made up a word for it--"teen." ... maybe that's why I feel so stressed a lot of the time---I'm being stretched in the middle... Two days in a row I was asked if I had a cigarette on me. I'm not sure if that's a good thing. Either I just look a lot older than 13, or I look much worse off in my youth than I thought I did..."

"So many people think our voice doesn't count. I don't know about other kids, but I think I know a heck of a lot more than a lot of other adults around...I don't know everything, but I know I have right to opinion. I want choices...I make my life what it is."


Wow.

And that's all folks for now. Thank you, Memory box, and all those who contributed to getting that down to California.