Over on The Great Sea I just made my 100th post. It is a photo shoot of some of the places I knew growing up.
I had driven nearly forty miles one way to take the pictures, expecting to get a host of shots of various things. I was mistaken. Not only had trees grown where once there had been no trees, and other trees cut down, and new roads, but entire houses were missing. Businesses were missing. The entire building. Very little remained of what I knew, and that which did remain bore little resemblance to what had once been.
I suppose that's good. It's the way God wants it, I guess. We aren't to cling too tightly to the past. Something of which I am quite guilty of.
It's just that I hate to let things go forever. It's bad enough that people leave, and we have to wait until it is our turn before we can see them again. But the things which grounded us in who we are go, too. And those things do not go to heaven. They're lost forever. What a pity.
Of course, considering some of what took place when I was young, having those things destroyed forever might seem like a good idea. The problem is, whether I like it or not, those places, people, and events came together to help create who I am today. (They have a lot to answer for. [grin])
Probably what makes the past so comforting is that is just that - the past. It can't change anymore. Whatever ills took place, they are over now. They won't get any worse. Meanwhile, the present is shaky at best, and the future is completely uncertain. We don't even know if we will be there to see it. Our individual times could end very quickly. Don't like to think about that much.
I do like to think about the old place. But right now there are only two buildings remaining from the original set: the root cellar and the cow barn. Neither struture appears to be in use today, and both are deteriorating fast. Even the pictures of my house on the other blog are not of the House of My Youth. That burned two years before we left.
It was reality - when I was six years old through seventeen. Now, the only place it has any substance left is in my memories. What a pity.
I guess I make a poor Child of God. I look to the past far more than the present or future. Kind of stuck there, it seems.
Oh, well. Cest la vie.
4 comments:
Every clan and culture needs the Ones Who Remember, Bevie! There are people who will cherish your recollections and be glad that you took the time to look back, not the least of whom will be your son.
I hope so. I've also been keeping a daily journal of his life since his first day here. That's 4,478 entries. Sometimes he likes to read through them.
What I need are more pictures! It's one thing to remember a thought. It's another to see a picture and be reminded.
I know the feeling of shock when a memorable place disappears. The house we lived in summer of 1950 was old even then. Fifteen years ago we took a trip back to the place. Not only the house and grove were gone, but the hilltop they stood on! It was like it was never there and that shakes your sense of reality. It's GONE like it never really mattered.
Yeah. And then it seems like no one will believe it ever really happened.
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