« Do They Hate Children Too? | Main | Yay Me »

August 23, 2005

Got a Box Full of Letters

Charlie from This Is Going To Be BIG just watched "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" and asks:

In ESSM, Jim Carrey has to bring every single item that reminds him of his ex into an office to help get rid of her memories. What does that bag look like for you? Do you keep anything you should probably get rid of? When I had my wallet stolen, I had a ten year old Winterfresh gum wrapper in it. What's your item? In the spirit of forgetting, and maybe, in turn, appreciating, that's the topic of today's call for comments back. Name the item you keep from a past love that you should probably get rid of.

Wait, we're only allowed to keep one item?

In my basement, there is a cheap trunk, tucked behind the computer desk and buried under blankets and bedspreads (it gets cold down there in the winter, and we like to keep our guests toasty - and toasted - whenever possible). Inside of that trunk are various memories from my life: all of my yearbooks from junior high through high school, letters from friends that have fallen away, newspapers from Desert Storm and 9/11, my Finnish bus pass and bank card, videos of college road trips. All kinds of stuff that probably looks like junk to you but is a 3'x2'X1' summation of a life (or at least the last 2/3 of it).

I got the idea from those stories and movies in which the grandkids find a trunk in the attic and ooh and ahh over the contents, getting to know their grandfather (or, in the sense of fairness, grandmother, as no sexist am I) better than they had in all their years of growing up. However, as Stephen King once said:

"The most important things to remember about backstory are that (a) everyone has a history and (b) most of it isn't very interesting."

So, allow me to apologize in advance to my grandchildren for the yawnfest* that is my trunk.

Back to the question, though.

What items do I have from a former love? Primarily pictures and letters and postcards. I suppose some significant others get nervous when one keeps around the crumbled debris of past failures, but - hell - success or not, joy or sadness, it was my life and it has made me who I am. I'm not throwing that away.

Besides, if the wife is cool that I still sit around the house in a pair of maroon boxers my ex gave me, pictures and letters should be nothin'. I might have left that relationship with a broken heart, but at least I got some comfy underwear out of it.

That counts for something, surely.

* But not so much as a Coldplay song.