Simpler thoughts

What ever happened to my youth?

Is this the most asked question of all time, or what? From the days when slaves were building the Sphinx and the Great Pyramids of Egypt, human beings have been asking themselves the same question.

"Uhhhhhh, Sooliman El Samir? Do you remember when all that was here was a couple of paws and half a head? That must have been 20 years ago. Where did the time go?" To which Mr. Sooliman probably responded with, "What's a year?", but I digress as usual.

The other day my son did something that all son's have been guilty of doing for eons: He permanently misplaced something that he shouldn't have. Why? Because he's carefree and careless. And what did I do? I got mad of course, because I was the one who bought the item and I'll probably be the one who pays again to replace it. After having my customary coniption fit bordering on an embolism, I sat him down and gave him a lecture. The item he lost was a soccer ball...small in the larger scheme of things for sure, but at $25-$30 per ball...it gets old after a while. I'm not sure how many this is over the years, but it's been more than a few.

In the lecture I showed him a baseball glove that I used to use when I played little league. Before anyone starts in on me, there is no truth to the rumor that I actually played with Abner Doubleday himself, so save your cracks. The glove was over 40 years old, the leather slippery, cracked, and hard after 4 decades. Inside of it was a ball, presumably from the same era. My mom sent that glove to me a few months ago, and I have to admit I was seriously touched when I opened the package and saw it. I pointed out to my son in impassioned terms how a simple thing like a baseball glove could still be here 40 + years later while he can't find his damn ball that I bought for him in December. I explained to him there was an era when people actually cared about things to the point that they would do anything to hang on to them. I asked him to show me one of his soccer balls that's over 6 months old and still in usable condition. This was a loaded set-up of course, because I knew he couldn't produce such an item...and I closed with the obligatory teenage butt-chewing about accountability and all that dribble.

Upon reflection some time later, several things became apparent to me. First and foremost, we - yes, WE - live in the throw away times. We throw everything away. Remember your record albums? Still have 'em? Yeah, I thought so. How about that old chair? You know, the one that was tailor made for you because your body shaped it over the years. You held your children when they were infants in that chair, you read to them when they were toddlers, and you delighted in seeing them as teenagers sitting in that same place and remarking about how comfortable it was. As you think back, the real comfort wasn't the chair - it was the fact that the chair was there just as it always had been. Right there where it was supposed to be, waiting for you to sit and take a load off - just like you were supposed to do. When was the last time you sat down with your kids and watched a movie that came out when you were their age? Right. Don't you think it's about time now? And don't give me that "my kid is 25" speech. Rent the movie and watch it with them.

What else do we throw away? Friendships? Relationships? Absolutely we do. We throw away our pride in search of more money, we throw away our dignity by agreeing on something because our political party or membership in some group says we're supposed to, and we throw away our integrity when we make a mistake and don't own up to it.

I have that baseball glove for two reasons. When I was a child I knew I had an obligation to protect that glove. It was mine, and I knew chances were good I wouldn't get another if I was careless with it. The second reason is because when I went through my adolescence and young adulthood, my mom had the foresight to keep that glove because she knew she never wanted to throw away the memories of my youth...which by the way are also the memories of her youth. I have a few snapshots in my memory banks of what it was like to play baseball 40 years ago, but I guarantee you my mom has full length movies. And how do I know that? Because long after the memory of another lost soccer ball has faded, the visions of the magical things my kid can do with one of those balls will still be laser-burned into my brain.

So it took a convergence of three generations and $25 bucks to once again put things in perspective. We trash way too much in search of something bigger, better, or shinier. In the process, we forget to hang on to the truly important things, and the kicker is most of the good stuff doesn't cost a dime.

And what the hey, that Sphinx wouldn't look half as good if it still had it's nose anyways.