Pulling up my drive the other day I spied a cardboard box sitting on my front porch minding its own business. I gave it some privacy there while I busied myself with a few domestic tasks. Soon after my curiosity got the better of me so I went to investigate. Lifting the latch and opening the screen door I found a sizeable box still minding its own business out there on the porch. I invited it inside out of the sun and sat it up on the dining room table. Despite my name and address on the label I naturally assumed it couldn't be mine and had lost its way to someone else. First thing I did was contact our daughter. For reasons only she understands she often has parcels sent to me at my address, despite having a perfectly good name and address of her own. Nevermind. It seems she ordered a white t-shirt for herself, and so this package must be it! Contacting her she was excited and I was happy for her. But my wife begged to differ. "Why would they send a small t-shirt in such a large cardboard box?! Just open it!" So I did.
If you had stuffed a circus elephant in the box I couldn't have been more surprised. Nor delighted. We had an alone moment my pan and I while my wife contacted our daughter to give her the bad news. Her t-shirt must still be in the mail. I on the other hand did my level best to keep my whoops of joy to a minimum. And the very next thing I did was this.
It is an ageless thing of beauty and grace, with years of history left in it. So each time I pull it out and place it on yet another campfire it will speak to me, sizzling some bacon, caressing those eggs and pampering the pancakes; ensconced in the present honouring the past and taking me into the future, joining a string of campfires through the ages like tiny golden fireflies flickering as they connect canoe camp breakfasts along our travels through time and tripping. Unless you include a traditional item on a canoe trip you may never really understand the emotional connection some might feel for these old things we treasure. New is nifty but there's a reason old and faded can feel so good. "Living history" is only that if it is kept alive.
This is such a generous gift.
Thank you Sweeper.
If you had stuffed a circus elephant in the box I couldn't have been more surprised. Nor delighted. We had an alone moment my pan and I while my wife contacted our daughter to give her the bad news. Her t-shirt must still be in the mail. I on the other hand did my level best to keep my whoops of joy to a minimum. And the very next thing I did was this.
It is an ageless thing of beauty and grace, with years of history left in it. So each time I pull it out and place it on yet another campfire it will speak to me, sizzling some bacon, caressing those eggs and pampering the pancakes; ensconced in the present honouring the past and taking me into the future, joining a string of campfires through the ages like tiny golden fireflies flickering as they connect canoe camp breakfasts along our travels through time and tripping. Unless you include a traditional item on a canoe trip you may never really understand the emotional connection some might feel for these old things we treasure. New is nifty but there's a reason old and faded can feel so good. "Living history" is only that if it is kept alive.
This is such a generous gift.
Thank you Sweeper.
