Commemoration

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The calendar is littered with days that commemorate events. For most of us, these exist to remind us of good times and things, and so we gather together with people we love for an outing, a barbecue, or some other kind of party. We do it to remind ourselves of good things that happen in our lives or of good things that happened in our lives because of those dates. It keeps us thinking about things and people that mattered to us long after they fade into memory.

Our memory is a funny thing. Over time, many people forget exactly what we’re celebrating on Cinco de Mayo or why we care who Martin Luther King is. Some of the events are easy to remember because they coincide with other events commemorated by a wider audience albeit for different reasons. Most of the people on the planet think of 21 June as the longest day of the year or the summer solstice. For me, it has a different meaning as is the case with many of the other days I commemorate.

Holidays, or commemoration days as is more applicable, invite us to remember. Over time, sometimes the memories grow faint, which is why I take so many pictures and write prolifically. If nothing else, I can go back and flip through this blog and the posts will remind me however obliquely about things that were going on in my life when I wrote them. When I remember, of course I remember the good times, and when I am strong, I remember the good things that came from rough times too. Summer holds for me both many exits as well as many entrances, and for the most part the exits have led to better entrances.

Some of my friends comment on how magnificent it is that I have such a great memory. I remind them that it can also be a great curse. Owing to the fact that I write down almost everything that happens, even when my memory grows fuzzy, I can go back and read about it and remember anew. It also comes as a great curse because I know things that aren’t true, leastwise any more, and then I also grow sad. As a matter of fact, some of the holidays considered favorites by most people around the Christian world are the worst for me, because they remind me of things I lost or things I never actually had. You can actually find me alone on those evenings sometimes, because I don’t want to diminish the joy of others, and because I seek the company of my Maker to heal my heart. Due to the frequency of this, I duct tape all of my journals shut when I finish so that it’s too much work to go reread them.

Friday will be a long day for me in many ways. It will be the longest day of sun of the year, which means there may not be ANY shade when I leave the house to run a 10K at 5:30AM. It will be light when I get home for the first time in weeks. It marks the end of a 53 hour week at work. For one particular person, it marks something else, and if that person reads this, know that I’ll probably spend more time than I would like thinking about what it might have meant, but I will think of you.

Last week, I had a long chat with my financial planner. We were discussing my “goals” for my money, and he finds it harder to work with me than most because I don’t have the same goals. Most folks are planning family trips or to buy a bigger house or to pay off debt, and my goal is “growth of capital” with an eye towards retirement. I don’t have any specific plans because all the bigger my plans get are what I decide in my mind to make of them. On certain days that I prefer not to commemorate, I have regularly made plans to overwrite those days with different memories so that there’s always something I control that happened that day to positively affect my life. I didn’t have enough time to make plans like that for Friday this year, but if you have any ideas, send them my way. What we choose to remember tells us what parts of the past our minds prefer to view.

I keep almost everything of real value that I obtain. That doesn’t mean that I display everything or that I look at it with any frequency, but I know, if I choose to, where to look for sentimental cards or gifts people made me or souvenirs I bought or any other scrimshaw of relevance. All of these things symbolize parts of my life that were true for my part. There were good things in them or from them, and even if all I have left from those moments are a few pieces of bric-a-brac, I do have those. One day, I will have the satisfaction of seeing that the individuals associated with those items know I still remember what I knew, what I did, and who I was. I am unashamed of my past and unafraid for my future. Whether or not other people commemorate my life is not my concern. I commemorate their part in my life because they contributed to the person I am today, and I like that person. He has Seven of Eight still, and that is worthy of commemoration.