From the Bench

BUILDING MEMORIES

There have been a number of emails in the last few days from people in far away places who have picked up on our internet newspaper. I will share some of them with you from time to time, beginning today in "Letters to the Editor."

The theme that struck me most in their content was the nostalgia, the revived memories of home. All of us have them, and they are unique to each of us, a treasure to be examined and savored in quieter moments.

I thought of this last Friday in the Baptist church in my adopted hometown. My mind wandered back to the day I nervously stood down front, in alien attire, waiting for Anne to come down the aisle.

The wait was interminable. Had she changed her mind? Finally, she came and joined me. Life changed, and the memories have been good.

We were there this day for Doug Dickson’s funeral. Funerals are a sad time, and yet there is something comforting, as there should be, in the memories they evoke.

There is nothing like a song to stir memories. They began to stir as the pianist played before the service. "God Will Take Care of You." "Just A Closer Walk With Thee." "Precious Lord, Take My Hand." The mind began to sing the words, and to go back…..to childhood….and Mama, humming as she worked.

The service began. Reverend Bielski referred to "the gift" of memory. Dr. Tom Howell said to Doug’s widow, Nelda, "Do not feel poorer for the loss, but richer for the memories." I liked that. It is difficult to comprehend at the moment. But in time, the truth of it will grow.

Sitting there during the service, the mind wandered back to the day when six men accompanied your second mother, "Nonie", down the aisle for the last time……a sad time. But the memories remain, and they are good.

We ended up that day where we did today……Rose Hill Cemetery. We were up on the hill, under the trees, in a section long fenced off for Bonds, Johnsons, Lees, and one very special Martin. It was cold, as you expect February to be.

This day, for Doug, we were down in the newer section, in the sun. August had let up on us for the moment, and there was a whisper of wind. And a quiet peace.

As we left, I gave Doug’s sister Pat, an email from a childhood neighbor who had read about Doug on our website. Memories.

Not everyone likes cemeteries. I do. The mind can only imagine the memories that rest beneath these stones. Or the ones that still live because of them.

Nonie left many of them for us to treasure. So did Doug.

I thought of something a pastor friend, J. T. Burdine, said to me once. He talked about "building memories", that conscious effort to do something special, something that "stands out."

J. T. is long gone, but the memory of him, and of that conversation, remains. I would like to pass it on, while it yet lives, for it is a good memory, and a good idea.

Remember these words…"building memories", and do it at least once this week, for yourself, and for someone else.