It's funny how we attribute value to things, not just in a practical sense, but in the sense of memories attached to the bits and pieces in our lives. I've tried to avoid becoming a collector of material possessions, as much as possible; but like anyone I still have junk. Over the years and through many moves, my wife and I have shed ourselves of many possessions...furniture, clothing, home decor, you name it...only to start all over again in a new location under a new roof and a new slowly growing pile of junk...more furniture, clothing, home decor, you name it. We have lots of "prized possessions", but our kids may not share our attachment to them. I've tried from time to time, to give something away I thought was a real keeper-a real treasure, only to have my son or daughter look at me like I was offering them a bag of dirt. But you know what they say, "one man's trash is another man's treasure."
When my dad passed away my brothers and I picked out what we most wanted. I have a few tools, but the others have the lion's share of those. That's okay with me. I have a t-shirt. Yes, a t-shirt. It's my dad's, and I keep it hanging in my closet where I can see it most every day. It's the same t-shirt he's wearing in a photograph holding our daughter, both of them smiling. This t-shirt even smells like my dad. Some days I take it out and hold it, smell it, and remember him. Silly I know, but there ya go.
When my mom passed away we all went through the same thing, only this time grandkids were old enough to join in too. Everyone had their own keepsakes chosen. One chose a candy dish, another a wall painting, still another some crochet things. I chose her gardening tools. I always think of her when I'm in the yard digging and transplanting. My brother laid claim to an old teapot. The same beat up aluminum teapot we grew up seeing in the kitchen as kids. To anyone else it's a battered old piece of junk, but to us it's a treasure of memories. He tells me he sometimes brews up a pot, strong and hot, and sits quietly in his kitchen warming his hands holding the teapot, and warming his heart with family memories of long ago.
As far as canoe treasures go, well I don't know what to think. All I have, and it isn't very much, is a treasure, to me. Rope, paddles, old hats, packs and tarps...Will they just see junk when they sort through my hoard of treasure? My only hope is that our kids will first choose some of this gear, and try to put it to good use, just once. I want them to take a canoe trip, and enjoy new adventures of their own; and hopefully they'll reawaken some happy memories of past family trips... telling spooky stories round the evening fire, singing songs along the portages, exploring each campsite like it was wild new territory. Maybe in time, some of their dad's and mom's old canoe junk will grow to be treasured once again.
When my dad passed away my brothers and I picked out what we most wanted. I have a few tools, but the others have the lion's share of those. That's okay with me. I have a t-shirt. Yes, a t-shirt. It's my dad's, and I keep it hanging in my closet where I can see it most every day. It's the same t-shirt he's wearing in a photograph holding our daughter, both of them smiling. This t-shirt even smells like my dad. Some days I take it out and hold it, smell it, and remember him. Silly I know, but there ya go.
When my mom passed away we all went through the same thing, only this time grandkids were old enough to join in too. Everyone had their own keepsakes chosen. One chose a candy dish, another a wall painting, still another some crochet things. I chose her gardening tools. I always think of her when I'm in the yard digging and transplanting. My brother laid claim to an old teapot. The same beat up aluminum teapot we grew up seeing in the kitchen as kids. To anyone else it's a battered old piece of junk, but to us it's a treasure of memories. He tells me he sometimes brews up a pot, strong and hot, and sits quietly in his kitchen warming his hands holding the teapot, and warming his heart with family memories of long ago.
As far as canoe treasures go, well I don't know what to think. All I have, and it isn't very much, is a treasure, to me. Rope, paddles, old hats, packs and tarps...Will they just see junk when they sort through my hoard of treasure? My only hope is that our kids will first choose some of this gear, and try to put it to good use, just once. I want them to take a canoe trip, and enjoy new adventures of their own; and hopefully they'll reawaken some happy memories of past family trips... telling spooky stories round the evening fire, singing songs along the portages, exploring each campsite like it was wild new territory. Maybe in time, some of their dad's and mom's old canoe junk will grow to be treasured once again.
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