We never know where our thoughts will lead us 

down which lane our memories will be stirred.

Sometimes it’s a photo, a smell, a taste…

sometimes a song…sometimes a word.


Yesterday my memory was piqued…

which caused my heart to skip a beat,

when, as part of cleaning the dishes, 

I was drying our two old cookie sheets.


Just by looking at these cookie sheets it’s quite easy to deduce

by the marks of age that cover them…they have seen a lot of use…


I smiled when I thought about how Deborah and these cookie sheets endear…

and I stopped to wonder how many cookies they have baked in 30 years.


She’s baked for family…for friends…

for years her cookie batter’s flowed…

and all the time these two cookie sheets have shouldered all the load.


She’s baked for our children and now our grandchildren.

cookies…delicious, warm and sweet

and long ago these two metal trays became much more than cookie sheets…


For they have grown old along with us.

They’ve seen us through laughter…and through tears

and it is my hope they will be baking cookies

for another 30 years…


Yes, I love never knowing where my thoughts may lead me…

down which memory lane…or boulevard…or street…

and I’m glad they chose to pause today


on these two old cookie sheets.

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I love da Vinci’s Mona Lisa, I love to linger with her awhile

enjoying the beauty in her face, the elusiveness of her smile. 


And from the first time I laid eyes on them I’ve loved the paintings of Monet.

I love the subjects, love the impressions, love the way the colors interplay.


I’ve often wondered as we go through life…if this is how memory unveils:

Initially brushed upon our minds like a da Vinci…in detail.


Then over time those fine details seem to blend a little everyday

until, as we grow older, we remember in Monet.


When we first make a memory…we remember it exactly as it appears

but slowly, imperceptibly, those details become less clear.


And the more experiences we add…the more new memories we overlay

before we know it our detailed da Vinci seems to look more like Monet.


But through the the wonder of our memory as these two painting styles converge

from within the impressions of our past…old details will emerge.


And we remember certain facts as if they happened yesterday

until they blend back to impression and gently fade away.


Perhaps it is this blending of the two that makes our memories last

and we are meant to find some small details in our impressions of the past.


Perhaps this is the essence of how we’re designed to see

Perhaps this is the nature of art…

and the beauty of memory.



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I noticed my old high school yearbook on the shelf where it has stood

for many years and when I opened it I thought…it smelled like childhood.


Browsing through its pages…much to my delight

I found myself and many old friends…looking good in black and white.


Most of the faces I remember…some I did not know.

Moments captured for eternity from a time long, long ago.


There was Rollie, there was Marilyn, there was me…and Joe and John

We spent many moments together…and then in a moment…we were gone.


Gone on to our futures…wondering what we might find…

excited at the possibilities…grateful for the friends we left behind…


I did not know back then…(I was much too young to see)

how the people in my yearbook…would help determine who I’d be.


I had no way of knowing…(I was as yet unaware)

that I wouldn’t be standing where I am today

If I hand’t been standing there.

Standing with my childhood friends 

friends who somehow found a way

to help transform the boy I was

into the man I am today.


I wonder… isn’t that true for many of us

as we visit our yearbooks once again?

For where would we all be today…


without the friends we had back then.

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Trapped in time

The sun is shining,

Yet I cannot feel it.

They say the heat is warm,

and succulent on your face,


I cannot feel it.


I imagine it is soft,

and gentle,

like your hand.

like the way I remember it..

It hardens me to know,

It is just that,

a memory...


A glimpse in time,


weaved together from vision of what was,

laced in tulle and ribbon,

at least,

that's how I see my memories to be.


The say the wind is blowing,

it's cool,

and wraps you in it's breeze.

Tightly against your skin,

caressing each curve,

hugging your body like silk.


The way you used too hold me,

Your body layeth upon mine,

The weight of you pressing upon my curves,

entrapped by you,

all of you.


What I would give...

For just one moment,

to be trapped in time,

with you.





When we are created we are given many gifts…

We can hear…we can touch…we can see…

but I wonder if the greatest gift…

isn’t the gift of memory.


If our life is like a poem…then memory is the rhyme

allowing us the opportunity…to transcend both space and time.


I remember picking Damien up with one hand…

I remember how strong I used to be

I remember it like it was yesterday 

now he stands 6 feet 3’.


I remember buying Aden a Snuggle…like the one on TV he’d seen…

That was a number of Christmases ago…

this year he turns 13.


I remember giving Ava a huge knife to carve a pumpkin…

Oh! that memory is gold!

In fact it’s one the family still talks about…

And now she’s 10 years old…


What prompted all these memories?

What started them on their way?

It just so happens that Taylor…turns 18 years old today…


I remember the day when he was born…I remember being swept away…

I remember seeing him for the first time…like it was yesterday….


Perhaps that is the wonder of memory…

How it takes moments that cannot stay

and allows us to relive them…


like it was yesterday!

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There was this creek near my house…

and sometimes I would take…

a fallen leaf…toss it in…and see if it made it to the lake.


It was just a childish game…played when I was all alone…

before the invention of cable TV, IPADS, or cell phones.


Sometimes the leaf would spin around…before it gently sank…

Sometimes it would lodge in a fallen limb…

Sometimes it would strand on the river bank.


But sometimes, when conditions were right…

that fallen leaf I’d take…

would navigate the hazards…and make it to the lake.


I think memories are like those leaves…

for everyone we make…

gets tossed into the river…but not all make it to the lake.


The ones that do…however…

reach a lake kissed by a gentle breeze.

A lake that’s filled from top to bottom

a lake surrounded by the trees…


A lake we’re meant to visit…for it’s a lake we have created

filled with a lifetime of the memories…we have accumulated.


I’ve reached a point in my life now…

where I like to close my eyes,

dip my toes into the lake and see what memories arise…


Yes, I like nothing better, now, than to sit upon the shore

and to be flooded with contentment…

knowing what all those fallen leaves were tossed in for.




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When we are young it’s easy…we can’t make a mistake.

If we want to know how old we are…we count the candles on our cake.


As we grow older, we still have candles, but when it comes to the amount…

unlike when we were children…we pay less attention to the count.


Joy becomes more important than time…within our heart and head

So we stop counting up the years…and count our happiness instead.


When we look back on old memories, of ourselves…our friends and family members

It's not the age we think about…it’s the happiness we remember.


Oh we may be sad a moment…thinking time has moved too fast..

Sad, not because we’re older…but because that moment’s passed.


But sadness quickly turns to joy when we realize…however,

Although time goes by so quickly…our memories last forever.


Now I smile when I celebrate a birthday…or look at old photographs again..


For I know how happy I am now…and how happy I was then.

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A Drawer Full Of Memories

After the holidays we were straightening up...
getting our house back into shape...
when we ran across a drawer filled with memories...
on something called VHS tapes.

You see we used to take pictures with a camera;
and on the TV is where they were shown.
This was back before all that high tech gadgetry
Back when a phone was merely...a phone.

We popped the first tape into the machine
What was on it?
We wanted to know.
And we were delighted as we were transported...
back to a time and a place long ago.

Back when we were all a bit younger
Back when on vacation we’d take a long drive...
Up to visit Grandma and Grandpa in the mountains
Back when Grandma and Grandpa were still alive.

We were transfixed to the screen
watching our memories
come in such variety...such a wide array...
So one after the other....we kept watching tapes...
Wild horses couldn’t pull us away.

When we were finished, we sat hand in hand
Thinking...Wow! That was over too soon...
Not realizing how fast time had flown
For we had been watching them...all afternoon.

Thank God we have our memories.
Thank God they come in all sizes and shapes
And thank God in the midst of holiday cleaning
We found a drawer filled with VHS tapes.


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House And Home

This year our house needed some renovations...
new paint...new roof...new door.
There’s always something in a house
that needs to be restored.

But when I stop to wonder...
You don’t need the wisdom of a sage
to understand a house may weather...
but a home improves with age.

Our house grows old by shielding us
from summer’s heat and winter’s freeze...
While our home stays young forever
when we add memories.

Perhaps that’s the reason we renovate...
we shine our steel and chrome...
To keep our house looking fresh and new..
So our memories have a home.

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