We hired a new math teacher this fall, Mary. Her classroom is directly across from mine and we see each other a lot between classes, even during classes. One day I confessed to her that I loved to scrapbook. It so happens that she has a book of the first 18 years of her life. It was an assignment in one of her classes when she was a senior in high school. She was so kind as to bring it to work and let me see it. I read every word she wrote. That book is amazing. It is a 3" 3-ring binder with writings from her parents, pictures, memorabilia, and her recollection of her life up to 18 years.
As I'm reading her stories I am reminded of so many of my own. Like my friend Jason slipping on the ice in the gutter every morning when I picked him up for school. I haven't thought about that in years. Or the time when my dad was in high school and wore a wig so the teacher thought there was a new student. Or what about my entire basketball "career" in school. I never wrote any of those things down. I think I need to do this.
What a treasure that Mary has. Everything in one place. Her grandchildren will thank her for it, I'm sure.