What do you never want to forget?

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What do you never want to forget?--Al

-- Al Schroeder (al.schroeder@nashville.com), May 01, 2000


The hope of youth. It's so genuine and true, when you are young you really believe all things are possible and I want to be that child. I don't ever want to forget that and I want to instill in my children that whatever their dreams... dreams do come true. With adulthood and disappointments that come you forget that kind of hope. Reality sets in at some point and you start to think; even if they do find a cure for cancer will it save me in time? Or things about people, I have a hard time giving my love and my trust, but like you, Al, once I do it's whole heartedly. Burn me before you earn it (as some people have) and I just may never be able to give it to you. I wish I could remember being able to give that kind of child-like trust/love. I never want to forget my loved ones and the way it felt to hold my babies when they were infants. I never want to forget some of the more painful lessons I have learned for fear of being "taught" again. I never want to forget the moments that say "I love you". The way my son throws his arms around my neck, even in his sleep. How my other son will sidle up to me and rub his back near my hand to ask for a back rub, without "asking". I love how no matter how deeply asleep my daughter may be, if I kiss her good night she says, "I love you". How my husband will NEVER forget to kiss me before he leaves the house, even if it's just outside to mow the lawn. I also never want to forget the closness my children share with my parents, it touches me. My parents in my youth had their problems and our relationship was very lacking, but in the relationship they have with my children, I see beauty that I never want to forget. I never want to forget the closeness I feel to my husband, how the touch of his hand calms me, how his breath in my ear, lips on my neck send shivers down my spine, I never want to forget how to be a newlywed and so in love!!

-- Glenna B. Yarnot (glennab@home.com), May 02, 2000.

I'm like you, Al. I'm already beginning to fade on certain memories. Thankfully, they are of the short-term kind. Or unfortunately they are of the short-term kind. I haven't decided how I feel about it. I think I feel just kind of....bewildered.

I spent a lot of the first half of my life traveling overseas and living in different countries. I want to remember not so much the places as the feelings, the smells, the color, the sounds. I'm in the process of writing all them down in something I call "Life Stories" for the very reason you are collating all your memories of Jamie into one place. In case I forget all that I saw and did, I want someplace to go to if I need to remember details. I also want my children to know who I was back then so that when I'm old and senile, they'll think me a little less than the pain in the ass I know I'm going to become. They'll know the real me. Maybe they'll even help me relive some of those memories as a "gift" to an old lady who no longer has need for more things--dust collectors-- to put on a shelf. They'll be dusting my mental shelves for me and letting me touch, see, and smell my memories now and then. Pure pleasure, I would think. Thanks for the thought-provoking entry, Al.

-- Tee (seventhsister_2000@yahoo.com), May 02, 2000.

I do not want ever to forget that there are those who loved me while alive and that there are also living people who love me. I fear going into senile dementia or Alzheimers and not being aware of the realities and the love my people have for me.

-- Denver doug (ionoi@webtv.net), May 02, 2000.

I do not want ever to forget that there are those who loved me while alive and that there are also living people who love me. I fear going into senile dementia or Alzheimers and not being aware of the realities and the love my people have for me.

-- Denver doug (ionoi@webtv.net), May 02, 2000.

The first time my son hugged me. He really didn't have much use for me when he was a baby. If I traveled on business for a couple of days, when I came home he would just kind of register my presence, as if to say "Hm. You again." It wasn't until he was first toddling around, at fourteen months, that he showed any signs of missing me when I went away. One evening, as I was coming into his room just before bedtime after three days on the road, he put up his arms and let me pick him up. I stood there for a minute, my son completely relaxed in my arms with his head on my shoulder. When I petted his back, he made a similar petting motion on my back. It really was the greatest moment of my life.

-- Tom Dean (tsd@ogk.com), May 02, 2000.

I don't ever want to forget what it feels like to be poor, eating dollar store food, living without heat and hot water, crammed into trailers and apartments with five or six other roomates. I know what it's like to be surrounded by crackhouses and afraid to walk to the corner store. When I work in inner city schools I see where the kids are coming from because I've been there. Now that I have more than the bare essentials, I want to give help to people when I see it is needed, and/or just be understanding and listen to people in need. Not everyone is from middle class suburbia, and that's something people in the field of education need to remember.

-- AJ (joijoijoi@hotmail.com), May 02, 2000.

I join the "oldtimers" club in starting to find memories forgetting. It's terrifying, knowing that my 78 year old aunt is in the early stages of Alzheimers, that my 80 year old mother is starting to be forgetful, and that my grandmother suffered from senile dementia.

Like you, Al, I have reminders everywhere for things I don't want to forget, a popup calendar on my computer, and I now tell people to be sure and call me to remind me to do things. I would hate to think that there will come a day when I will look into the faces of my children and see strangers.

I want to never forget the last hug I gave my son David, the last phone conversation I had with my son Paul and it hurts me that I'm starting to lose both of them.

-- Bev Sykes (basykes@dcn.davis.ca.us), May 03, 2000.

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