Burning Memories
Why is it that the ultimate “where were you when” moments in the world are mostly bad? The ones I hear tossed out most often are 9/11, the murders of JFK and John Lennon, the space shuttle disaster, the Reagan assassination attempt and when Eddie DeBartalo was forced to give up his interest as owner of the 49ers to his sister and her depriving some village of their idiot husband. Ok, so maybe that last one is just me, but you see my point. You might throw in a couple good ones like the Berlin wall coming down or the Republicans taking back congress (ok, again, maybe just me), but for the most part they are bad.
I think part of the reason is that we tend to allow negative events to impact us more deeply than the positive. Especially in this country where so much is positive, we don’t take time to really celebrate and burn into our collective memory the good things that happen to us as a nation or as individuals. I wonder how much happier we would be if we soaked up the good the way we do the bad.
One thing’s for sure, having kids affords you the opportunity to squeeze every drop out of the positive times they provide. Every day my boys do something that makes me laugh or smile or just generally be happier. Too often we let those events sail by to be forgotten and at most remembered abstractly when we think things like, “man he was a cute kid.” But if you do it right, you will hold onto at least a few of those moments and so burn them into your memory that they will stay with you like your first kiss, your graduation from highschool, or that time you tricked your wife into driving 8 extra hours just to see Larry Bird’s house.
Well, I had such a moment yesterday. For at least a year my foot has been black and blue from kicking myself for not working with Gibson on how to ride his bike, leaving Gibson on the fast track to being the only kid in first grade who still used training wheels. Then a few weeks ago I finally spent some time one afternoon at the coast running behind his bike as he started to learn balance without training wheels just like my mom had for me and like I had for my younger brothers and sister so many years ago. But then we came back home to our very hilly neighborhood and day after day passed without me doing anything to follow up. Gibson went back to his training wheels and showed little interest in ever taking them off again.
Then we went shopping in REI for our upcoming backpacking trip (my wife and brother and I and maybe my Dad are going backpacking for 4 days in the 3 Sisters wilderness in Oregon. Very good times. We leave tomorrow), and we passed some bicycle gloves. I don’t know why Gibson would want bicycle gloves. But then I also don’t know why they cost even more than gloves that actually have fingers, so what do I know. Anyway, my lovely wife told Gibson that he could have the gloves when he took his training wheels off. Like most things my wife does, this proved to be a stroke of pure genius.
Yesterday Gibson took the training wheels off and after a short session with my wife’s help, he was riding around like he had been riding for years. He’s suddenly a pro and asking for his gloves about every 2.6 minutes. I came home to see my son ride his bike unassisted for the first time and all those memories of learning to ride came flooding back. I stood their staring in shock at my baby boy growing up and it was beautiful. I burned the picture into my memory. I will always remember where I was when God blessed me with that sight.
Burn those good memories.
I think part of the reason is that we tend to allow negative events to impact us more deeply than the positive. Especially in this country where so much is positive, we don’t take time to really celebrate and burn into our collective memory the good things that happen to us as a nation or as individuals. I wonder how much happier we would be if we soaked up the good the way we do the bad.
One thing’s for sure, having kids affords you the opportunity to squeeze every drop out of the positive times they provide. Every day my boys do something that makes me laugh or smile or just generally be happier. Too often we let those events sail by to be forgotten and at most remembered abstractly when we think things like, “man he was a cute kid.” But if you do it right, you will hold onto at least a few of those moments and so burn them into your memory that they will stay with you like your first kiss, your graduation from highschool, or that time you tricked your wife into driving 8 extra hours just to see Larry Bird’s house.
Well, I had such a moment yesterday. For at least a year my foot has been black and blue from kicking myself for not working with Gibson on how to ride his bike, leaving Gibson on the fast track to being the only kid in first grade who still used training wheels. Then a few weeks ago I finally spent some time one afternoon at the coast running behind his bike as he started to learn balance without training wheels just like my mom had for me and like I had for my younger brothers and sister so many years ago. But then we came back home to our very hilly neighborhood and day after day passed without me doing anything to follow up. Gibson went back to his training wheels and showed little interest in ever taking them off again.
Then we went shopping in REI for our upcoming backpacking trip (my wife and brother and I and maybe my Dad are going backpacking for 4 days in the 3 Sisters wilderness in Oregon. Very good times. We leave tomorrow), and we passed some bicycle gloves. I don’t know why Gibson would want bicycle gloves. But then I also don’t know why they cost even more than gloves that actually have fingers, so what do I know. Anyway, my lovely wife told Gibson that he could have the gloves when he took his training wheels off. Like most things my wife does, this proved to be a stroke of pure genius.
Yesterday Gibson took the training wheels off and after a short session with my wife’s help, he was riding around like he had been riding for years. He’s suddenly a pro and asking for his gloves about every 2.6 minutes. I came home to see my son ride his bike unassisted for the first time and all those memories of learning to ride came flooding back. I stood their staring in shock at my baby boy growing up and it was beautiful. I burned the picture into my memory. I will always remember where I was when God blessed me with that sight.
Burn those good memories.
Comments
I wrote a comment here but it got so long that I copied it and pasted it into today's blog.
Thanks for the writing prompt. And for the truly good advice.
Next thing you know, your garage will be full of Middle school boys who ride their bikes to the fireworks stand and them bring them home to "modify" them. And as clever as he is...who knows what may occcur.
The biggest problem I see with the women's wisdom ticker is that you have to be able to recognize it as wisdom for it to do you any good. For example, in the past when my wife sets out to decorate a room (one of her many talents), she will sometimes show me the colors and fabrics she intends to use.
There have been times when I thought (forunately to my self), "or, you could just throw a grenade into a giant bucket of skittles and stand back and hope for the best".
that, by the way, is not something a wife finds funny. Anyway, my point is that her plan often makes no sense to me and then when she creates something amazing and beautiful, I am left only with a reminder that I just don't know what the heck I'm talking about...and a beautiful room.
Similarly, if I was watching your ticker and the words, "motivate your children with bicycle gloves" I would have rolled my eyes...at least and yet, as I mentioned, pure genius.
All of that to say, even if women were to sit down and share all of their wisdom, it would do us little good because it just wouldn't make sense to us.
As for the fireworks in the garage, first, if he ever does that, I'm blaming you. Second, if he ever does that and doesn't invite me to join in on the fun, I'm going to challenge him to a bottle rocket war on the spot.
Finally, I came home the other day and Gibson was coming out of the garage muttering something about a "flux capaciter" and how I'm really unbearable when I get older. I'm not sure what it means but I'm not buying him any more black market enriched plutonium.
BTW - I've been told that I look a little like Larry (short by 8 inches) Legend. The first year the Celtics played the Orlando Magic, they took a side trip to the Kennedy Space Center. One of our elders conducted their tour. He told Bird there was a member of his church that looked like him. He smiled and said, "Tell that good-looking guy I said hello."
Third, anyone who properly refers to Bird as "Larry Legend" is a friend of mine and the fact that you may look like him is all the better. He's my basketball hero....in case that wasn't obvious.
Randy,
First, thanks. Second, I still can't get over how grown up your kids are. I may never. Third, Cliff bars are rubbish. I would vent more about my hatred for those bars, but I think that will be it's own seperate blog topic.
Thanks for checking in.