I had a great childhood. I was blessed with great parents and a younger sister to enjoy life with. My parents were actively involved in our lives and always present. As an Air Force brat, I moved around every couple of years, so my family of 4 was my constant. God and my family were pretty much the only things that were constant. Schools changed, friends changed, churches changed, and in the 80s, my hairstyle unfortunately changed a lot too.

So today while driving in the car with Jeff, we started sharing many of our childhood memories. I already knew most of the memories that Jeff shared with me about his childhood. But many of my childhood memories were stories that Jeff had never heard of. Jeff said, “Well I’ve never seen any pictures of you doing those things?” And I sighed, and said, “Because there are very few pictures.”

You see my parents were there. Mom was a room mom, team mom, and hostess of pancake breakfasts for my swim team. Dad was the homework helper for algebra, physics, and english literature papers. He was the weatherman and my biggest cheerleader at my swim meets. My parents took my sister and I to church 2-3 times a week as my Dad served as a deacon in our church. My parents never missed a swim meet and sacrificed financially to allow me to travel since I was swimming at a national level. Even though they were there, they rarely took pictures. And it remains that way to this day.

When reflecting on these memories…

I wish I had a picture of me sitting at the breakfast bar at my Meem’s house being served french toast and ice cream cones.

I wish I had a picture of me playing spoons with my Uncle John and Aunt Andi.

I wish I had a picture of playing hours of Marco Polo in the pool with my sister.

I wish I had a picture of my mom making her homemade lasagna in the kitchen.

I wish I had a picture of the Father’s Day Cake Baking Contest where my dad won best prize for ugliest cake for his pineapple upside down cake. I cried for hours because I was certain he was devastated.

I wish I had a picture of me working at Annabelle’s sandwich shop and as a lifeguard as a teenager. Terrific memories.

I wish I had a picture of me singing with my hairbrush while playing my 3 favorite 45s on my record player. {Beat It by Michael Jackson, We Got the Beat by The GoGos, and I Think We’re Alone Now by Tiffany.}

I wish I had a picture of Barry Courtney, my 3rd grade “boyfriend”. He bought me a shell necklace for my birthday, a unicorn from Circus Circus for Christmas, and a box of chocolates for Valentines Day. It was true love indeed.

I wish I had a picture of my mom and that ridiculous weight loss space suit that she hooked up to the vacuum cleaner, while she walked in place in hopes to sweat her butt off. Oh yes she did. 

I wish I had a picture of me after my nose was broken in the fifth grade by a boy. He hit me because I stood up for a Jewish girl who he was bullying and he felt embarrassed. One of the best things I’ve ever done in my life.

I wish I had a picture of me in each of the 15 colored blazers that my mom bought me when she worked at Casual Corner when I was in high school.

I wish I had a picture of me in my pink leg warmers, sitting in my parents Papasan chair, listening to Prince’s Purple Rain Cassette tape on my walkman.

I wish I had a picture of all the homes we lived in and the churches we attended. I went to 5 high schools in 4 years.

I wish I had a picture of my feathered hair, yellow comb in my back pocket, as I skated around the roller skating rink to Joan Jett and the Black Hearts.

I wish I had a picture of my Strawberry Shortcake lunchbox with the awesome lunches my mom would prepare. A lot of love went into those lunches. 

I wish I had a picture of my dad teaching my sister and I how to play backgammon. We would play for hours.

I wish I had a picture of my mom typing up those heat sheets for my swim meets or making me scrambled eggs every morning before swim practice at 4 AM.

I wish I had a picture of my sister and I sleeping on the top shell of the motorhome in Missouri.

I wish I had a picture of Jack, aka The Candy Man, from church who had peppermints in one pocket and butterscotch in another pocket of his navy blazer. All the kids would run to him at church and ask for the butterscotch. Since I was one of the few who liked peppermint, he would always sneak me two.

I wish I had a picture of the silver Sprint that my dad drove while living in Virginia. There was a lot of tar on the sides from road construction, so for Father’s Day, my sister and I got the tar off easily with the kitchen Brillo Pads. Unfortunately, we removed some paint too.

I wish I had a picture of the four of us at a swim meet. We spent thousands of hours at pool venues, but I don’t know if we have one picture of all 4 of us on a pool deck all together.

Now am I angry at my parents? Absolutely not. They did an amazing job. It’s just that since cancer, telling my story has become more important to me than ever. Telling my family’s story is now at the forefront of my mind.

I feel an enormous responsibility and a privilege to be my family’s memory keeper. I shared my experience with recording my life with Project Life two days ago that you can read here. It is a perfect fit for my family at this time.

I realize however, the economy stinks and that many of us are hurting financially. But memory keeping doesn’t have to be expensive. You can buy a $1 notebook, staple some pictures and write with a pen to record your memories. And later when you can afford more, then transfer into some page protectors or start a Project Life album. The important thing is to just start. Even just one picture a week. Do you realize that if you just capture one picture a week for your child’s 18 years of life that is almost 1,000 pictures he/she will have? That’s a lot of pictures. Despite our work schedules or life demands, I believe everyone of us can find 3 minutes in our busy schedules to take 1 picture a week of ourself, spouse, or children.

So yes, I wholeheartedly believe in Project Life. But I believe more in the importance of telling our stories, no matter the medium. So please let me encourage you today. If you are behind in memory keeping, don’t sweat it. Just start now. There is no guilt or shame allowed on this site. I’m merely a little girl, still trapped in the 80s, that wishes she had more pictures and memorabilia to show her children of her fabulous childhood.

Your kids will care less what medium you used 30 years from now to record their stories. They will have just one more way to know that they mattered and that their story has been recorded and shared. What a gift.