As usual Sunday I got up at daybreak, checked the overnight post, had a bottle of water, then went back to bed for those rem dreams and woke up to listen to “This American Life”. (I probably ought to sponsor them for it is the only program I follow regularly.)
And also as usual the entire hour was impressive. Then again it was on a subject that is always on my “top 10” lists.
A brief synopsis would be how do we “remember” those who are gone. You know, passed away, died, croaked,.. Whatever you want to call it.
One story was about a nice guy who was remembered by being a ghost. Another was about a guy who got paid to sit with dead bodies as a watcher. There was a story of a mother who had a retarded child and when she found she had cancer made videotape on how to take care of her child when she is gone. The best story was about a guy in high school who as a prank and sat in on club pictures that he didn’t belong to for his high school yearbook. I know, it was my big laugh of the day too. Yet these were all ways they will be remembered.
After feeding the chunky monkeys and the little scooters a vast amount of seed and nuts and checking for what will cause concern to us who know what a big blow can cause, I move outside to watch a team in their jailbreak pajamas, make a sandwich, pop my first beer of the day and ponder my thoughts.
As you walk in the front door of one friend’s house, black and white photos of their parents greet you. Another has photos of family members along the stairway. Albums of former participants having the same last name stack up on tables.
To some there are tales of adventure and to others the fame in their chain of continuing the line, but some just have a name and a face.
Today with all the cameras and videos every silly moment can be captured and captioned and sent around the world. What people don’t realize is these will be the memories of their next of kin.
I don’t think about myself because I will be forgotten as soon as I rot, but going through all the photos and clothing and books and favorites of another only as the “remember me” remains.
I wonder if she haunts the house that she spent over half her life in? How am I going to sell this place with a ghost? Shoot maybe I’ll haunt this house.
Maybe the immediate children will cherish the clothing or accolades or pictures, but will the grandchildren? Then again that is about “family” which I will discuss later.
So as a friend tells me, your legacy is the memories of others.