Moving every 4-6 years served a good purpose in causing us to look at our stuff and getting rid of it from time to time. Now we have lived in the same place for 21 years and there is a lot of stuff to sort through and get rid of as we prepare to redo the basement.
These, however, have made ALL of those moves with us (well, maybe we stored them in the States when we were in Hong Kong, but they made all of the rest of them with us). These are the yearbooks from high school and some junior high for Gary and I.
The Columbian was mine. I attended my sophomore year at Columbia High School in Richland, Washington. I loved that school. It was the only high school in the town at that time and we were all raised to be Columbian Bombers (I know. Weird mascot! Related to the history of the town and nuclear power.) Anyway, that was our goal. Unfortunately for me (and tragic for my younger brothers and sisters who never got to attend there), we moved to Amarillo, Texas where I graduated from another high school--a story for another day.This particular year book then has been very important to me. It contains so many memories and faces of people that were important to me.
Memories of friends and classmates and the things that we shared together.
David Ord, who signed here, recently passed away. |
This cute thing was made for me by Julie Copfer. I love it and it has been on a kitchen shelf for years and then moved down to the shelf in my office/family history/exercise room---but in my future plan for the room, I won't have the same spot for it. Whenever I see it, it reminds me of our friendship, the conversations we have had, the memories of serving together in Primary, the BBQ lunch in the Texas countryside.....and so many more. How can I let it go, but how can I keep it as well? These are hard questions.
A bag of Cub Scout slides all made by Cindy Anderson with some help occasionally by the Cub Scouts. With the Church ending their connections with the Boys Scouts, I won't be needing a neckerchief slide again, but the memories are full as I look at them....however, I am sure that my children don't have the same memories and don't need the task of tossing them away when I die. A picture will have to do.
Who knew that you can get tearful looking at stuff all day???
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