Friday, August 6, 2010

The missing box

I lost a box in one of my moves, and I can't stop thinking about where I might have left it and how much its contents mean to me.  I know I'll never see it again, and I know they're just things, but they're important things that remind me of my childhood and it's hard to accept those things are gone.

I know you're all wondering "what's in the box?!?" a la Brad Pitt in Se7en.

Well, here we go:

1:  In 7th grade, Katharine Torrey and I wrote a soap opera.  We were given a writing assignment to complete as a team, and that's the route we took.  We spent so much time on character development, down to what clothes each person would be wearing and what their favorite song/movie would be.  We got an A.  We each kept a copy of all the notes, written on purple, wide-ruled notebook paper, along with the typed episode script.
2:  Senior year, I had Mr. Andrews for dual enrollment English - I had taken AP History and Chemistry Junior year and neither went well, so I went for the guaranteed college credit of dual enrollment, instead of having to take a test at the end of the year to get credit.  Anyways, Mr. Andrews:  he was notoriously crazy and off his rocker, but the class was the perfect blend of structure and creativity.  I don't remember much homework or busy work, but our big assignment for the year was a 25 page paper.  It could be about anything we wanted to write - a story, diary, memoir, journal, etc. 

I used the paper as an opportunity to document the worst month of my life, up to that point.  I was pining over my now-ex boyfriend who had recently started dating someone.  He was my best guy friend at the time, dangerous right?, and I was just miserable all the time.  This worst month started with the day of the Christmas parade, where we hung out for hours before we had to report for marching band duty.  Then as soon as his girlfriend showed up it was like I vanished into thin air.  I can remember it as if I was watching a movie, montage style.  I was sitting on the sidewalk in front of some coffee shop, people around laughing and having a good time, watching him drive away with her and I just stared and stared.  Pathetic, I know.  Picture Duckie sitting on top of the newspaper box in the rain while Andie's out on her date with Blaine.  That was me.

Sounds trivial now, but in high school that kind of shit can crush you!  It took both of us a long time - I think it dragged out into our college years - to realize we could never really be friends because there was too much in between the lines.  It got a lot worse before we realized that, but I'll spare you the details.

The worst month continued with the suicide of a former classmate - he went to our school initially but was re-districted and now went to another high school, so we had lost touch.  Rumor was that his step-dad was abusive and his mom didn't care.  Who knows if that's true, but it was a sad time for those of us who had been friends with him.  We all wondered how we could have hung out more, or been nicer or better listeners so he had friends to depend on - you know, the shoulda, woulda, coulda's? 

I should write a whole blog about this worst month - oh wait, I kind of am.

The month continued with finding out I wasn't accepted early admission into William and Mary, which was the only school I wanted to attend at the time.  My brother went there and I loved everything about it.  It was rich in history, there'd be other smart kids there who wouldn't make fun of me for being a dork, and I already knew my way around from visits with my brother and my friend, Cynthia.  Fast forward to March, I wasn't accepted at all.  Boo.

All of the other things that were part of this worst month must have been even more pathetic or trivial, because I can't remember them.  It would be nice to see how I expressed my feelings about these incidents at the time and compare them to how I feel about them now.  

3:  This little pink Bible is one i was likely given as a christening gift and I had written my name on the cover page in cursive, then someone had scratched out my name and written theirs (did they steal my Bible?!?), and then their name was scratched and mine was written again.  I'm sure there's a funny story there that my mom could tell.  But all I know is I am missing my little pink Bible.

4:  My graduation cap and honor stole really need no explanation.  It's a symbol of a major life milestone, and I don't have it.  I do have the tassel that was on my hat, which is cool.

5:  I did ballet and jazz for years when I was young.  It was so much fun!  Then I got lazy and decided I didn't want to do it anymore.  Not sure what my reason was at the time.  My well-loved ballet and jazz shoes, along with a practice tutu-wrap thing, were in the box.  I kept them thinking when I had a little girl one day she could wear my tutu and shoes and dance around the house, whether it was because she was into ballet or just being goofy to make me laugh.

6:  My Girl Scouts tote bag was filled with papers from work I did to earn badges, along with my handbook and badge book, and possibly my mom's handbook from when she was a Girl Scout.  I still have all my badges and sashes and made a scrapbook out of them, but the tote with all the documentation is gone :( 

7:  My mess kit was in a drawstring bag my mom made out of washcloths for easy washing and drying.  Never heard of a mess kit?  It's a cup, plate, bowl, silverware, and a cooking pot, all folded up like a puzzle into this contraption we carried around with us while camping.  Mine was all banged up and stained, and I had stickers on the bottom of the plate from the various trips we took...kind of like I do now with my yearly planner...

Again, I know these are just things and obviously I still have fond memories of them to pass on, but I wish I hadn't lost them.

What about you?  Are there any mementos from your past that you've lost track of or wish you still had?  Have you ever lost something that meant so much to you?  Please share :)

1 comment:

  1. I was just reading some of your old blogs, and I came upon one about a box of missing "treasures." My father was in the army until I graduated from high school, so every time we moved we (our parents) gave away things we had outgrown. The most important of those things, though was when we were evacuated out of Trieste, Italy. Our mother had put a box of our treasured stuffed animals on a shelf in the closet, and my beloved white monkey (I was 4) was in it. That's was the most glaring item I can remember. During most of the rest of our moves, we were able to get things from point A to point B. I think Mother was more cautious after that move. The only other things that mattered were the friends we had to leave behind. You learn to make friends fast, but when they're gone, you don't work too hard to reconnect. I've made it my personal goal to correct that trait. BTW, did you ever get your box back? I have visions of someone reading your blog and saying, so THAT's where all of those things belong.