They say every picture tells a story, well in my case every story paints a picture. People have asked me how I remember all these tales from my childhood to share with you.
I don’t really know where the stories come from but I often see them as "snapshots," pictures that weren’t actually taken, because there are only a few photos were back then, unlike now where every moment of everyday is clicked, captured and shared.
It’s as if I have a photo book of snapshots in my head, and I believe most of them came from my brother. They say that we have few if any memories before age 2, but I remember seeing my brother standing in his crib and he was only 10 months younger than me. I see snapshots of Gary and me playing together in our little house with no running water.
Mom had to heat water she hauled from the neighbors to bath us in the sink. We had to have been little for both of us to fit. I remember lots of giggling and laughter and whisker rubs from my dad as he wrestled with us when he came home from work. There is no actual picture of any of these things happening, but I can see them as clearly as if they happened yesterday.
And don’t get me started on the bunnies and other pets we had as kids. (Although there is one snapshot photo of Gary and me with our baby deer, but that is the pet I remember the most anyway.)
There was always a dog or a cat or a baby chick we hatched under a light bulb to have as a pet but there are no snapshots of any of these animals. I mostly see Gary playing with the cat or trying to milk our male dog after one trip to the farm. (That did not go well as you can imagine.)
I remember us watching carefully as the tiny egg hatched into a little chick right before our eyes. Now all these things would be recorded on my phone and loaded on to Facebook to share with you within minutes. Can you imagine the outhouse shenanigans in pictures? The stories are so much better than the real thing, let me tell you.
This is why I write, to share these memorable snapshots with you, because we, as friends, have a connection that must be shared with words and not pictures. I encourage you to start sharing your stories and memorable moments with each other because a great story doesn’t fade like old snapshots sometimes do.
Peace.
P.S. Happy birthday baby brother, Aug. 31, 1964!
"Sharing a memory is a way of holding on to the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose."
-Unknown
Sandy Holthaus of rural South Haven loves to cook. She and her husband, Michael, have three children. Holthaus is active in the community and has many interests and hobbies. She is originally from near Grand Marais. The Tastes Like Home column appears regularly.