There it was, buried in a cardboard box from a house move several years ago, an old scorecard. But not just any scorecard, here was the scorecard that told a hole by hole story of the best nine holes of my golfing adventures, a poignant reminder of a ‘special moment’.
Life is that way, isn’t it? Along the way, you acquire reminders of the ‘road’ you’ve traveled: a trophy, a plaque, token or charm of some sort, maybe a photograph or special book, hidden treasures among our bric-a-brac, often of little or no value, except to you.
Over time, these treasures found their way to drawers, closets, or boxes, out of sight and mind, seemingly disappearing within the fabric of your house, until, quite unexpectedly, you come across one that makes you pause and reflect on a certain ‘special moment’ in your life.
My old army hat rests ‘at ease’ on a filing cabinet. An occasional glimpse stirs memories of a brief period (it seemed forever) as a young man when I had ‘nothin to say about nothin’, just do as ordered. Challenges were met, obstacles were overcome, I did things I didn’t think I could do. It all comes back.
A ring with a few sparkly chips ‘hides’ in my stocking drawer and I feel it when rummaging for a matching pair. It reminds me of some career successes, wins and losses, and the camaraderie with associates who supported my efforts. And while it will never be worn again, it moves me to look back at my career with contentment and satisfaction.
The wooden fishing lure that hangs by its treble hook near my workbench opens a floodgate of images of time spent with my dad, fishing at ‘the Cape’, and learning about life. He was always teaching, often by example. It’s difficult to let go of ‘treasures’ he gave me.
Old photos are some of the best ‘treasure’ finds. We hold them and vividly recall details of where we were, who we were and what we did. If we close our eyes for a moment, we’re there. Photos help tie our life segments together, connecting us to our past. We mustn’t lose that bridge.
Someday, our children will chance upon their copy of our Christmas holiday songs, recorded when they were youngsters. I know they’ll laugh aloud when they hear the singing, arguing, the joy and the love. Briefly, they’ll return to a special family time, remember us fondly and be joyful. What a treasured moment, never to be lost.
What’s in your ‘treasure chest’?
Steve
December 2017
srbottch.com
To ‘treasure hunters’, one and all…
S'amusing 
My treasure is a friendly relationship with a writer in NY
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Tu es trop gentil! Attends, est-ce que tu me traites d’écrivain? Merci, mon ami en France!
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What a lovely post, Steve. I love collecting items of special meaning to me and I have a whole suitcase of drawings and other memories of my boys from birth to now. I got this idea from my Mom who also has a suitcase of memories. She took all her photographs recently and made up albums for each of her children with all their photos and other niknaks, so very nice of her.
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Thank you, Robbie. I had such a hard time writing this one because there was so much to put into it. I’m a sentimental person and will save the simplest things that remind me of special occasions. I have ‘stuff’ from our children, pictures of my folks, trinkets to remind me of…of whatever. I hope I got the concept of ‘hidden treasures’ across to readers. Now, I can move on to something else. I want to write a story for Jennie. Happy New Year, Robbie. It’s bitter cold here in Rochester, NY. 😎
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I find it hard to imagine cold at Christmas time, Steve. It is so jolly hot here I battle to sleep at night. I am looking forward to your story for Jennie. She is very special.
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She is. As for cold, it’s been hovering above -0- F and my feet are feeling it at my post. I’m one of 12 school crossing guards for our town. There’s a chance school could be cancelled Friday because of the winds and cold temps. I’d like to send you a few winter pics if I have your email. I’ll check my records to see if I do. Meantime, send us some sun and heat. 😎
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That would be lovely, Steve. My email address is sirchoc@outlook.com
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Thank you Steve, Very thought and memory provoking. I have quite a few old tools I can’t part with. Two hand hammers. One was my grandfather’s – and one was his father’s he brought from Ireland. They are very similar. I don’t know which is which. Still trying to figure that out. And tools from my father I have and remember him using. In fact I remember when some were delivered – from “Monkey Wards”
! Again Thanks. Jim
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I haven’t heard that term in years. I miss ‘Monkey Wards’. Glad you liked the story. I too have some of my dad’s small tools, a couple of old hand saws with fancy scrolls on the handles. That would be a good topic for a ‘Bar Night’, ‘old tools and old geezers’. There, I already have a title. Thanks, Jim.
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Oh, I love the golf scorecard. My dad would have done that:). My treasure chest includes a note from my sons’ father, written when my youngest was born. He thanked me for the wonderful gift of life I’d given us. Still touches me every time I see it!
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Now that is a real treasure. Are you like me, saving every sentimental thing I can? But the memory of those special moments are worth more than gold…well, that might be a stretch. We all could use some gold every now and then.
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Love the post. Hm. A porcelain dog my father won in a fourth grade spelling bee. The heart locket my father gave to my mother. A bead bug my daughter made and gave me. It sits on my desk. And so it goes…
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I’m so glad you liked this, Elen. You’re probably a sentimental person, as am I. Only a few read this but it touched a nerve with each. Thanks.
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I like my old postcards, my few books I could save in a small apt space and there are knick knacks. . . Some may mean more to me than anyone else, though. . . Nice post, Steve.
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Exactly. I have a coffee ‘coupon’ my daughter gave me years ago. Someday, I’ll spring it on her for a treat. For now, it’s a cherished ‘trophy’.
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