My mom is a saver. And now she’s cleaning house. She just delivered a bunch of “my” stuff. Really it was her bundle of pride, but what a trip for me.
Folders emblazoned with “A Special Kind of Place,” North Central College, immediately brought to mind my freshman orientation leader, and still dear friend, Tom, deadpanning, “A special place, kind of.”
My mother had kept every newspaper clipping of my name on the President’s List, notice of my original scholarship award, and my Richter Fellowship to England. (Okay, that was pretty awesome.) Programs for everything were saved. Honors Convocation and the invites that stated “your student will be receiving a significant award;” Homecoming programs with our pom pom squad picture, (funny that I’d forgotten I was on Homecoming court my first two years on campus); Mom’s Day fashion shows (I was one of many student models), and miscellaneous tidbits of memories.
High school folders were mainly report cards and honor roll listings. Stuff she had kept, not me. Same with middle school. I was a good student, but there was the occasional comment of “too talkative.” I was mortified to see that I had received a C. Then I saw it was in PE. Yep, that makes sense.
It was amusing to read grade school report cards and look at the school class pictures from first grade through fifth grade. I was slightly geeky. I suppose I still am.
The real jackpot was the kindergarten memorabilia. For forty years, my mama has kept a pile of Weekly Readers, finger paintings, and sticker drawings. My cardboard figures to tell the story of the Three Billy Goats Gruff brought back my first memory of performance anxiety.
I laughed and showed my boys various artwork, my traced hand – very poorly cut out by the way, and my proficiency writing my name with a different color crayon for each letter. The treasure of the whole kit and caboodle was a little spiral bound book labeled “My Kindergarten Days.”
Black and white photos on mimeographed pages showed me and my tot classmates, nine of us total, seven girls and two boys. We were the last year to do private kindergarten at Mrs. Dodge’s house before public schools took it over.
The pictures of the various activities –trips to the park, playing Santa and his reindeer, and having tea parties – made me smile and want jelly on crackers. The funniest moment was when looking at the pic of me and best pal Krista in our pilgrim outfits, I came across the very same get-up in the box.
A little two square pointy hat, a cut-out collar, and a tiny apron made from a thin old sheet were forty years old, immortalized in a photograph and now being held in my hands. I donned them and compared myself to the photo. Hmm, not quite the same.
My mom had no idea when she brought the stuff over to me that I was meeting up with long ago friend Krista the next day. Kris hooted at the pics too and I agreed to make a copy for her. And let her borrow my pilgrim clothes whenever she wants.
I tease my mom for hanging on to those things for all these years, but I have bins with my sons’ loot going all the way back to preschool. When they’re in their forties, I’ll hand the goodies over to them. Maybe even sooner if they promise to say, “I can’t believe my mom kept all this stuff.”
