Good Morning,
Hallmark commercials tend to pick up just before Mother’s Day and there is no wonder since it is the third largest card-selling holiday in the country. While they all seem to audaciously pluck at the heartstrings in some little way…there becomes that little lump in the throat…or the weird little thing that spontaniously happens kind of like a hiccup, but not really, that jumps up when you are caught in the moment. I suppose it isn’t very manly to admit it, but then hey, I’m happy to have a soft side. Maybe I can start a movement and call it M.E.S.S. (Men Extressing Soft Side)
Anyway, there was one of these Hallmark Commercials that reminded me of my own mother’s tendency to save greeting cards. My mom had a tendency to save all greeting cards almost as if the wish they conveyed would be lost or the sender surrupticiously offended, if she discarded them. So somewhere buried deeply in the plethora of boxes and totes in our garage there must be a card I sent my mom on Mother’s Day. Although whether or not she saved something that I made in school for the occasion is questionable. I’m pretty sure I did, but it may take some digging to find. 
Where am I going with this? Well yesterday, quite by chance we came across a Mother’s Day placemat that Michael had made for his mom in school. The timing just seemed perfect to find this just before the appointed day and to have Jeanie there when we did.
The year printed on the placemat was 1985, twenty-five years ago, which would have made Michael 6 and in the First Grade. It was in a tote full of other items from the past. Spontaniously saved personal mementos from the formative years and milestones that go into making up a life. They are the times never to be seen again as your children grow into an adult and give up “Childish Things”. Maybe parents keep these kinds of things as a reminder of their own youth, or maybe as anchors to feelings cherished. Whatever the reason they were saved, eventually they will have to be passed on and their future determined by the beneficiary at the time.
I have so few things from my grandparents that have managed to survive this inevitable purging process. I suppose it is pretty normal, as we have to shed the debris of the past to make room for the present. For the things in the tote, we will leave that choice up to the generations to follow so that the tote continues to hold these treasures of our life.
Remember, your children may one day cherish these things as we do, so do not be too hasty to get rid of all of them.
Love, Dad