In French, souvenir means memory. Here, it means memento —a keepsake that reminds you of a place you've been or an event you treasured. That's why it's a little worrisome when you can't remember where the memento is from. Like this cork I found while tidying up for Thanksgiving (countdown starts today). Is it a Champagne cork? What was so special about it? Was it from Hannah's wedding or my 50th or last Thanksgiving? Who knows? Barrett? How about this rock? Is this the one from Mt. Everest? This sand, is it the sand I collected from Stinson Beach (with Janis Joplin's ashes in it) or is it from Jamaica, Hawaii, Florida, San Onofre?
Note to youth: Label your souvenirs while you still recall.
3 comments:
Well, you could one of several things:
1) Suddenly remember at some point, object by object, what came from where.
2) Ask all your friends and family, as you've done.
3) Call a psychic and ask her, or him, what's what.
4) Hire a forensic analyst to conduct tests. It's done all the time on CSI New York, or CSI Vegas.
5) Keep them in a nice box with a big question mark on it.
6) Toss them, with affection twinged with regret, into the garbage can.
The value in the souvenir is in the memory itself, not the placeholder object. Maybe, if a label is required to make the object have meaning, the whole thing should be let go, or at least categorized as some memory gone by. Is there any kind of comfort in the past fading away?
Boy, there better be, Phil, as it's doing it more each day. . .
Post a Comment