Madison118

Mary Ann Kirby
In light of the recent flooding in Houston and wildfires in California,
where people were literally forced from their homes with only what
they could carry, and no time to spare, I considered the daunting task
of having to decide, what does one take in that situation knowing
that a complete loss was imminent? What is that one thing you
couldn’t leave behind?
Asked that question in two different decades and my answer might
be drastically different.
In my 20s, I would have been most concerned with my shoes and
clothes. My purse collection, makeup, and favorite leather bomber
jacket with fur trim would have all made the list, too. To this twentysomething
year old, “stuff” was important.
At fifty, my priorities have dramatically shifted. But when faced
with the question about choosing what to take, I still can’t come up
with a definitive answer.
It’s a given that people and animals come first, so we’re going to
assume that my family and dog are safely evacuated in our little pretend
scenario. We’re also going to assume that we all have our phones,
laptops, purses and wallets, driver’s licenses, and important documents
and papers.
But now comes the tough part. What non-essentials do you take?
What is that one thing that you absolutely would not want to part with?
I recently posed this question on social media and the responses
were varied . . . and fascinating. Many of them were, understandably,
about precious family photos – boxes of pictures and photo albums
that have been curated, inherited, or passed along from one generation
to the next, which could never be recreated. Ironically, it has been
during my lifetime that many people have actually stopped printing
pictures. I pause for a moment and wonder how future generations
will remember us without printed evidence of our existence.
Bibles ranked as a top item along with jewelry, treasured artwork,
children’s blankets and hand-made family quilts. Guns and ammunition
were surprisingly important to many, as well. I’d never considered the
need for weapons in an evacuation-type situation, but anyone that’s
ever misplaced a child’s cherished binky knows that it is worthy of
being heavily guarded.
So as I continued to contemplate the question at hand, my inability
to easily identify what “things” I would take was becoming a source of
frustration for me. I began to realize that I’m not particularly attached
to anything! And don’t get me wrong, I have a safe-box and fully
understand the importance of protecting certain legal documents, but
it was very revealing to me that not one material possession in particular
stood out as being of paramount significance.
Things don’t wear matching pajamas on Christmas Eve and watch
Christmas movies seen so many times that every line can practically
be quoted by heart. Things didn’t cheer on our favorite kicker on the
football field or feel the excitement of watching him make his first-ever
field goal.
Things can’t get all dressed up and take you to dinner on your
birthday or celebrate when you achieve an important milestone.
Things can’t reassure you when someone’s hurt your feelings.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that my most
prized possessions are my memories–of the life experiences and
adventures shared with the people I adore most–and no box or album is
big enough to contain them. They’re the people and places and feelings
and moments. They’re the hugs and the smiles. And the laughter.
It’s not about what we’ve bought, but what we’ve built–and no
fire or flood can destroy it. And it is in that moment, the moment
I was forced to articulate what it was that I actually treasured most,
that I had a breakthrough and it was an amazing feeling.
While it is not likely that my son can tell me a single thing he
received last year for Christmas without having to really stop and think
about it–he can sing every word to the family vacation song we made
up while driving through the mountains six years ago. We hiked to a
waterfall hidden deep in the elevations and got caught in a rainstorm
on our way out. It was freezing and we were soaked to the bone . . . yet
it will go down as one of the single greatest family experiences that we
ever had. We were with each other, where we’re truly the most happy,
and we wouldn’t have changed a thing.
Experiences make for the greatest treasures. And memories.
So while this exercise has come full circle and prompted some
much-needed soul-searching on my part, I come away with a single,
glorious realization. When the waters rise, and the flames grow near,
I’m already packed. And while I’d never want to be faced with having
to part with the material things that have played such an important
role in creating our comforts of home and have helped to define our past,
I know that as long as we have each other, everything will be alright. n
Hometown madison • 55