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09/02/2004: "Memory Lane"
I wrote this column for the school paper, it probably wont get published, so I will publish it myself.
You can’t judge a book by its cover and you can’t judge a person by how they look. We are who we are now because of the past. You may look a person and think, “Wow they’re strange” or “What a freak”. What you don’t know is why they are like the way they are.
A gentleman cannot bear to watch the news. Is this because the last time he watched it, he saw the wreak that took his sons life? Or is it just he is afraid to hear the bad news of the world? A woman studies night and day to find a cure for cancer. Is this because she wants fame and recognition? Or did she lose a loved one to a terrible disease?
Events and experiences make us who we are. Memories are natures’ way of reminding us where we have come from. Everything from the smell of cookies baking to the touch of soft thread sparks a memory from another time.
Our mind keeps our memories, but they often have to be unlocked. Our closets keep everything we need, and sometimes they give us the key to those lost memories. When I open my closet it is like taking a stroll down memory lane.
There are boxes in the bottom of my closet from the times I have moved and I have never bothered to unpack. There is filthy hour glass, it reminds me of how life seems to have a way of building up until you finally need to turn it over and begin anew. A bag that contains maple syrup, two flags, and a purple ten dollar bill shows me what a difference having a Canadian friend is like. A photo box, so small, but it can tell the story of a girl who lost almost every photo she had.
What does this say about me? I have moved so many times, that I don’t even bother to unpack some stuff anymore. The way my life is turned upside down, mementos of my friend, and my pictures both lost and kept. They all tell their stories about me and tell what has made me who I am.
Memories exist without the material items as well. Sometimes feelings can say it all. When a bee is on your nose and ready to sting fear comes into play. Fear of pain, fear of how you will look, feelings you have experienced long before.
The taste of sweet cake reminds you of birthdays past including the good ones and the bad. A memory of your sixth birthday comes back to you, strands of your blond hair in flames. Your twelfth birthday, the last ever spent with your childhood friends. Sweet sixteen, the one you spent at home with someone you love. Memories also remind you to always pull your hair back so your sixth birthday doesn’t repeat itself.
Memories remind us of our battles, friendships and loves, both lost and won. You see a long row of lockers and you can think of the first fight you had in school. You hear the music of Franz Liszt and you picture a man in a black suit sitting at a piano, fingers filling every note with passion. You listen to the sound of a friend’s voice telling you about his day. All these moments bring back memories.
These objects and memories make us who we are; they are who we are. So the next time you look at someone and are about to pass judgment on them; think about what might of made them the way they are. Were they hurt in the past? Have they ever felt the scorn of their peers? Is that girl who sits quietly in the corner so quiet because she fears losing her friends once again? Look in your own closet, your own mind, and you will see what I mean.