Standing on My Head in Search of

I don't know what nostalgia smells like to you, but to me, it smells like a cedar chest.

I was looking for a particular picture of my mother, which I had in my hands not long ago.

I made the mistake of giving it back to her. When I called and told her I needed it for a column I was writing, she said: "I put it up somewhere."

Lord, help me.

Of course, I spent several minutes with my head in the cedar chest, knowing full well that wasn't where it was. I tried to get her to let me look in her closet where I am almost positive it is, but Noooooo. It was the cedar chest first.

(Is she hiding something/someone in the dang closet so that I'm not allowed in there???)

But, boy, did I find some neat stuff. Her report cards for one! Which proves without a doubt that generational curses exist. Just look at her math grades, my math grades and Daughter's math grades.

All look the same. All looked cursed.

Anyway, I also found a picture of my daddy I'd never seen before. He looks about ten or so. What a cutie! But it blows my mind the way they used to "paint" photos. So he has these rosy cheeks, they've lightened his hair and darkened his lips a little.

My baby pictures are the same, even the professional portraits done of my family when I was around seventeen are 'painted up'. My brothers and myself have sort of a mahogany color to our hair, when we were blonde. Weird, huh.

There were a few more pictures of Daddy I'd never seen, as well as some of my mother.

There is a case that has my great-grandmother's shawl in it, along with her obituary. In her obituary, her name is never mentioned! It says Mrs. William  Sawyer or "granny", but never Samintha. Now, when she died, of course everyone knew who she was because she was a mid-wife for so many years. But, I mean, really? Not mention the woman's name? Weird again.

I found baby clothes, caps, shoes, books, and blankets. Some mine, some my brothers.

Of course primary school work done by all three of us.

Bibles.  Several.

The Atlanta Journal-Constitution's coverage of the 1993 blizzard, mostly of Atlanta and the surrounding areas.

Did you know at one point during the blizzard, ALL of our county was without electricity?

Blairsville reported the deepest snow at 35 inches. It was 27 inches deep at our house.

I think a great deal of the Eastern part of the U.S. was pretty much at a standstill for a few days.

Mother nature is very powerful, without a doubt. And speaking of weird, how weird is it to have a blizzard in the deep South?

I found a book "The history of Gilmer county: 1875 to 1975." That should be fun to look through.

When I brought a bunch of the photographs home so I can scan them into the computer, Daughter said, "That smells like Maw Maw's house."

Maw Maw was Husband's mother. She was right! How weird is that?

Every house has its own smell. Husband's mother died more than half a dozen years ago, but Daughter remembers.

I think what we record as children stays with us, especially smell. I can close my eyes and recall the smell of my grandfather's car I rode in when I was very little. I think he sold that car in 1963.

There was also a heart shaped box that had belonged to my grandfather's sister, who died at age sixteen when her appendix burst. That happened in the early 1900's. Inside the box was her thimble.

I saw a picture of a young man dressed up in his navy uniform. He was my great-grandfather's sister's son. He committed suicide, Mother said.

I ran out of time as I had a dinner date, so I had to come back and clean up the mess. As I put things back into the cedar chest, I was flooded with so much emotion. Seeing my mother and daddy at different stages in their lives, seeing my brothers in baby pictures, identical cherubs laughing at the camera, seeing my own baby self having a grand time too, it brought back the idea that time flows so quickly that it sifts through out fingers like sand. My great-grandmother's shawl, a soft pink that was probably her Sunday best, tucked in a box along with her obituary. A sixteen year old's thimble that she probably never used with the plans she had when learning to sew...

Laughter, sorrow, time passing...all in a little cedar chest.

Weird,huh.