Stuff

Well, this is a first. A first in the last 31 years at least. No husband, no children, no grandchildren, no dog. I was all alone once in the 70’s when my parents went to Europe, but that’s the last time I remember. It wasn’t such a good memory either; I hit a young boy on a bike coming out of an intersection at dusk (he was okay, but his bike was a mess) and I had to break a basement window when I locked myself out of the house. The year was 1978 to be exact; blacks received the priesthood during that two weeks also, and I thought for sure the 2nd Coming was right around the corner.

This instance has not been quite that eventful. I’m just alone, that’s all. Potts is in Southern Utah helping a group of photographers, Emily took AJ with her back to Boise, and my dog is in heaven romping around with Muffin. 

I’ve spent the week going through boxes of paraphernalia -- gazillions of old concert programs, photos, letters, bits and pieces of life. I figure, if it’s not in a scrapbook, or recorded in my journal, it isn’t worth keeping.  It will only leave my children wondering, “What in the world am I supposed to do with this?!” when I am no longer around. It’s hard for me to trash it; like I said, it’s my life in these boxes. 

Which brings me to another thought. In this day of emails instead of letters, Facebook instead of visiting face to face, “posting” instead of printing photos, blogging instead of journal-writing, will we have anything to “keep” in the future?  Anything that will keep us alive to our posterity? 

... Just a thought.