By RAY DAY
Guest Columnist
November 29, 2007 05:18 pm
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As times goes by and memories tend to be forgotten more than you want them to, you preserve your thoughts and memories so precious to you.
I have met many people who tend to put a door between them and the memories of a time when they were young and growing to be the next leaders of our nation. They forget that where they came from holds a large part of their ambitions and hopes for a better time and more easily to live within. Sometimes there are those who are afraid that their friends will think less of them if it is found out that they lived on the wrong side of the tracks, and they were poor in wealth. Many seem to think that if you keep the door between then and now closed, and you don’t desire to look back, then you can start anew and life will be abundant and the chances of success will rise and the chances of defeat will be eliminated.
Well, this is where this old man will tell you that you whom desire to go this way will rob and cheat your children, your grandchildren and all the others who could have prospered from the stories of the days of old that lie within your memory bank, that you don’t intend to open up.
You are doing them an injustice, by closing your door to the past, that were and really still are your stepping stones to the world you live in today. Memories are what you and I give to the future children, and they just are too precious to store away in a vault never to be unlocked. Memories are what you and I give to the world, whether in the way of a book or as a written column such as what I bring to you each week. I have many readers whom I hope are passing on my columns to those who use them as a stepping stone in their lives.
I am proud of where I lived as a child and of the way that we survived the perils of wars, stock market crashes, soup lines and, for Dad, the WPA. Coming from a large family, having seven sisters and six brothers, my memories of the days of old are those precious memories that I will always talk about and be proud of the life we lived under the love of two people we called Mom and Dad.
Dad was always the quiet type of person who worked his backside off to feed his family, and give us a home warm with all the love we needed. He never expressed himself much, saying he loved all of us, but you knew it from the other things he did. I was a young man of 19 and at the mill when I found out that Dad really had a heart of gold. Many times when we had a break, we would sit back and talk about how it was with him and his parents trying to maintain a home and keeping all together as long as possible. His Dad was killed by a runaway driver, and his Mom lived a hard life trying to give the family what they needed.
It was nothing for a young man of 14 to leave home to go looking for a job that would get him started on his road of life and his look for a nice gal to marry and live what I call memories so precious to all those who came afterward. He found that special lady at the age of 16, and the courtship of two precious people started the eventual road to marriage and to the starting of our family.
I will always keep my door to the past open so that whomever wants to know about it, can do so just by asking me. I have always stated that if I ever get that brain-robbing disease, at least my family can go back into my past by reading all my columns and relating them back to me. Somewhere in my brain, a key might turn the lock back open and memories so precious to me will come forward.
Ray “Uncle Ray” Day can
be reached by e-mail at arermdrd@netusa1.net or
uncleray@skyenet.net
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