Whose memories are these?

Pictures temporary but cherished

Since our move, there has been a constant pile of boxes by the back door, and it drives me batty (yes, battier than usual, which is truly saying something). In our effort to cleanse ourselves of clutter, we have created constant clutter. We gather boxes from our storage unit, pile them into a scalable mountain, whittle our way through them, then repeat the process. Having already donated items we felt were unnecessary, we filled these boxes with belongings that mean something to us. Opening each lid takes time and emotion.

A recent box held my parents’ 35mm slides and Trapper’s parents’ videos of his childhood vacations. We decided to digitize them, and Nu Fangled Images in downtown Fayetteville did a fabulous job to preserve these memories.

But whose memories are these? While Trapper watched wistfully as images of a little redheaded boy played on the beach with his parents, most of the images from my parents’ slides aren’t even my memories. They capture moments of my parent’s lives prior to my arrival — a rodeo in Sikeston, Mo.; friends in Fort Lewis, Wash.; my father’s Army barracks at Vietnam in 1967. Some of these images are fascinating; most are not. They freeze images of people or pets or buildings unknown to me. They are other people’s pictures. Yet, I preserved them.

I scroll through my photographs on my phone. The vast majority are images of plants and animals, with some selfies of Trapper and me at various locations sprinkled in the mix. Occasionally, there’s a “Welcome to” shot taken when I crossed a new state in my quest to reach all 50 states by the time I turned 50.

I look at my most recent snapshots: lush flora, green mountains cascading into the sea, a rooster demanding part of my sandwich… and me, wideeyed and grinning, proudly wearing a retro Hawaii Five-O shirt.

By the skin of my teeth, I did it. I awoke on my 50th birthday in our nation’s and my 50th state. Thanks to Trapper, who bought the trip for my Christmas/ birthday/anniversary/date-nightfor-the-rest-of-the-year gift, we stood with toes in the sand and watched huge waves hit the shoreline. We saw the sunrise at the pier at Hanalei Bay and strolled Lumaha’ I Beach, then watched the 1958 film South Pacific that evening, seeing the same pier and beach. We frolicked in the ocean at Tunnels Beach, then watched the film Soul Surfer that evening, understanding the powerful riptide and dangerous shark-infested waters. We felt the mist from the towering Manawaiopuna Falls, then watched the film Jurassic Park that evening, giggling through the opening scenes of the places we’d just experienced.

It was magical — both Kauai and 50 years. These images I hold dear in my hands and in my mind are not meaningful to anyone but me. Someday, the tangible ones will be discarded, and the intangible ones may fade from my memory.

And that’s OK. Like photographs, we are all here for a little while. Except storage boxes. Those last forever.