Melody of Memories: Remember When
Alan Jackson wrote a lot of hits, and Remember When feels the most like our life.
Trip, Emmie and I recently visited my parents at their newer St. Pete home - a top-floor spot with an incredible water view. The place is situated on an island with a walking trail that hugs the mangrove and Intercoastal Waterway, offering opportunities to fish and paddle board right in the back yard. There are also swimming pools and tennis courts. It is another great spot that Mom and Dad found for all of us to enjoy together - to make memories.
Of all the activities, sitting out on their balcony overlooking the water with a hot or cold beverage and a book is probably my favorite.
That particular week, I was intentionally spending time in the Book of John. As I sipped my coffee and turned those pages, I reflected on how Jesus used water for healing, cleansing, rebirth, and His first miracle - turning water into wine.
I also reflected on life - how Trip and Emmie were growing faster than Laurie and I wanted.
I stared at the water in silence, watching the dolphins and occasional manatee swim by.
There is a beautiful flow of life in those waters.
In life, as in love, there must be trust.
Sometimes we do things for each other, out of trust and love, and not necessarily out of desire. That particular trip, I asked our crew to visit the Salvador Dali museum. They obliged me. I’d like to think it was out of love - and maybe a desire to study art - but it was a hot Florida day and the museum gave us all a chance to cool off.
There is a timeless beauty in Dali’s dreamlike imagery, and it is also equally difficult for some to follow. I was most excited to see The Disintegration of the Persistence of Memory - a memory from middle school art class.
As bold as Dali was, the double meaning of so many of his works also informs you how uncertain he was about the future. Many of his works include almost ghostlike portraits of his wife (and muse) Gala - a reminder of the importance of our loved ones and how even when we are most confident in ourselves and our work - we draw the most power from that innermost loop.
I don’t know that my kids connected to the artwork at the same level, as me. And I think that is the point - they weren’t there for Dali - they were there for me. That, and Emmie returned the favor by talking me into going down a water-slide.
Heypa also helped out by booking a fishing guide - taking Trip and I on a once-in-a-lifetime adventure. Out off of a small key, we caught more trout than we had energy to haul in. And I can’t tell you what memory was better - catching all of those trout or just sitting with Trip while he fished off of the banks of Dad and Mom’s island.
It really hits you like a ton of bricks the moment you realize that location is not the destination. And life keeps offering up these small moments where you realize the waiting, the preparation, the in-between times are larger than the grand finale.
Our lives had moved our families all over the country and into and out of a lot of houses.
Pickwick.
Oxford.
Germantown.
Lafayette.
Knoxville.
Fraser.
St. Louis.
St. Pete.
Newport Beach.
Denver.
Dallas.
We change jobs. We learn new hobbies. We read new books. We have kids.
Trip.
Emmie.
Gin.
Hayes.
Leni.
Harper.
The view changes, but for Dad and Mom - the purpose never did.
In trust, as in obedience, there must be love.
A couple of weeks ago Emmie had made me a homemade Father’s Day card. That day I started working on one for Dad. Somewhere in-between these two cards, I intentionally took time to reflect on countless memories.
There is a beautiful melody interwoven throughout the life Dad and Mom built for us. A life that included a tent, a campfire, a boat and more than anything - love. And the melody of those memories sounds like Alan Jackson’s Remember When.
So, on this Fourth of July holiday, I would like to raise a toast to Dad and Mom… to all the love, to where all of us are and where all of us have been.