This afternoon, I have been rummaging through boxes of family photos. My daughter had asked me to find any photos of her that I could for something she is doing for a significant birthday.
Like anyone who has ever moved from house to house, things that you don’t need or use regularly often doesn’t even seem to be taken out of the box or crate that they are in. Because of this, they are often not readily available and tucked away in various places around our home. A box in the hall cupboard, Several boxes in the cupboard of my study and another big box in our garage.
As a consequence I found myself looking at photos, not just of myself and my kids from way back, but also several photo albums that were my Mums. Some of the photos go way back, right back to my Mum’s childhood and mine and my brothers and then our children. As I worked my way through the box, I flicked through the photo albums that Mum had made and I realised that I knew a very small percentage of the people in the photos. There were no labels to indicate who was who and so the connection just wasn’t there. But, what do you do with these photo albums? It doesn’t feel right to send them to landfill. They had meaning once, but the people who would have had memories of these people and places are long gone. We still have my 90 year old Uncle, but he admits his memory is not great and he wouldn’t have a clue, who half of the people were.
It will be the same with my memories and my photos, unless I put a note against each way to say who is who. But, with today’s digital age and ease of taking photos, it would be a big ask to identify everyone in our photos. Then I looked at my china cabinet. I have a number of items that I treasure in there, but my children would probably take one look and box them all up and take them to the Op Shop. But, some of them have significance to me and I hope my children might keep some small things. There is a little crystal hedgehog that My Mum and Dad gave me – and the children’s Father – when we got married. There is a silver egg cup that – though tarnished with age – was a christening gift from my Nanna. There are a couple of paua shells with satin cushions that held our rings on our wedding day when I married my husband Ade. Perhaps I need to write these things down, so that others know why the things in my cabinet were kept and are displayed.
Thinking about memories there is another rather sad thing in my life and that is the closing down of the bowling club which I belong to and which has been part of our community for 110 years. The land and buildings and green and carpark to be sold off. That is bad enough and myself and a couple of other members were at the club today and we started talking about the ‘Honours Board’ which holds the names of all the winners of club competitions spread over many, many years. A developer will most likely buy the property and just see walls lined with wood with names engraved. Something unimportant that will most likely thrown away like they are nothing. To the club members though they are an important part of our history and for some holds some personal memories. Each entry has a story, a story of perhaps how a skip might have turned the tide with a vicious drive and wrenched victory from the jaws of defeat. Every name, every entry is so much more than that. Some club members have – it seems – their names in every section possible. Some of the people whose names are up there are no longer with us, but family could come and show the grandchildren or great grandchildren their grandparent’s achievements. All that will be lost forever when the time comes to say goodbye. After all memories are only memories while there is someone left to remember them!
So whether it is family photos, or treasures in a cabinet or names on a roll of honour at the bowling club, they were treasured by those that took the photos, that received things as a gift or are a way to celebrate and honour achievement in sport.
Objects that may have no monetary value, but knowing that they meant something to someone we cared for makes them of value to us too in many cases.
For the bowling club, once the club and the names on those walls go, those who have been on that board will have no place to sit and be surrounded by the memories those simple boards invoke. One day there will be no-one to remember and nothing physical to show for all the years the building gave a place to laugh, to be with firm friends made on the green and to seek out caring and support in times of loss and grief.
So, remember a thing may be just a thing in a cabinet to you, but to someone it may be a precious momento.
A building may seem to be just a building, but it has been a place to gather, to share and to support each other through life’s challenges. Putting the world to rights after a game and over a shared pint or two.
A precious haven for some who need to escape from the stresses of life for a time.
A place where you can give each other cheek and have it returned in equal measure.
A place where people meet like a family and to some it may be even more important than family perhaps.
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