Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Christmas Past
I traveled north this past week to visit the Invisible Family in New England. Last year, my girlfriend and I traveled south to spend the holidays with her family, so this time around it was my family's turn. As always, my parents were gracious hosts, spoiling both of us with presents and home-cooked meals. Although work related responsibilities forced my girlfriend to return home a few days earlier than I, we were still able to see a large number of my friends and relations. My aunt and uncle drove in from Boston, marking my girlfriend's first encounter with my mother's side of the family. (All in all, I think it went well.) In addition, I had a chance to meet up with several of my friends from high school.
Even though the activities were similar to those in which we participated for the better part of a decade (and in some cases even longer)--video games, movie screenings, and even a one-shot D&D campaign--this visit reiterated how much has changed since homeroom freshman year. Two of the friends who visited were married (Mrs. Sevensor even gave the rest of us a run for our money in Robo-Rally!) and one was engaged. Almost everyone had exciting jobs, or was en route to getting one, ranging from video game design to industrial chemistry, from video game design to medicine. (No matter how hard one tries to spin it, graduate school in the humanities pales in comparison.) And perhaps most significantly, I realized how unlikely it would be to get everyone in the same place...because ultimately, we're all scattering off to different parts of the
country...or in the case of the Sleeper, the world. The Internet makes it easier to keep in touch, but no one has mastered the art of being in two places at once, and as everyone goes off to start their own families and their own lives, the odds are against recapturing the past. Not that the probability of that happening was particularly high in the first place.
Compounding this pessimism was a request from my parents to empty out some of the old boxes and files which have rested, largely untouched, under my bed since my undergraduate days. A quick perusal at home confirmed first that I am allergic to dust and that my room needs a good vacuuming. Second, I learned that the boxes in question contained papers extending back to the sophomore year of high school, including two out of the three parts of my 10th grade examination on The Scarlet Letter, my campaign speech for student council treasurer, and practically every calculus exam I ever took. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. Birthday cards, old photographs, blue book exams from college...they were all there. And now I had to winnow them down. I packed up the relevant boxes in my car and headed towards home, stopping overnight at the Maestro's place for his annual holiday party. (I confess to being a little nervous leaving the full documentary record of my past locked the back seat of the Ben-mobile overnight, but fortunately the car somehow survived.)
And so I spent the last day of 2008 sifting through what might, under more fortunate circumstances, be considered critical documents in the Invisible Ben Memorial Archive (est. 2091), trying my best to determine what was representative or at least possessed sufficient sentimental importance to merit saving. I filled up two large white garbage bags with paperwork, but there is still too much to be contained in one, or likely two, 3-inch three-ring binders. I have come to the conclusion that the past is messy, both literally and figuratively, and that, for me as for so many others, it will be impossible to hold on to everything. Letting go remains the challenge. As an aspiring historian, the task becomes even more agonizing, but in the end, practical reality trumps hypothetical scholarship.
Still, as this is likely going to be a multi-day task, I think I'll hold off for now and try my best to celebrate the coming of the New Year. At the end of 2008, the world seems politically unstable, the economy is on the verge of collapse, and the future looks relatively bleak. If you believe some, recovery is on the horizon and it's always darkest before the dawn and so forth. I'm not sure how much I actually believe such optimistic pronouncements, but it sure would be nice if they were right. Here's hoping for a better world in 2009 and making time to spend with the people we care about...no matter where they are.
I traveled north this past week to visit the Invisible Family in New England. Last year, my girlfriend and I traveled south to spend the holidays with her family, so this time around it was my family's turn. As always, my parents were gracious hosts, spoiling both of us with presents and home-cooked meals. Although work related responsibilities forced my girlfriend to return home a few days earlier than I, we were still able to see a large number of my friends and relations. My aunt and uncle drove in from Boston, marking my girlfriend's first encounter with my mother's side of the family. (All in all, I think it went well.) In addition, I had a chance to meet up with several of my friends from high school.
Even though the activities were similar to those in which we participated for the better part of a decade (and in some cases even longer)--video games, movie screenings, and even a one-shot D&D campaign--this visit reiterated how much has changed since homeroom freshman year. Two of the friends who visited were married (Mrs. Sevensor even gave the rest of us a run for our money in Robo-Rally!) and one was engaged. Almost everyone had exciting jobs, or was en route to getting one, ranging from video game design to industrial chemistry, from video game design to medicine. (No matter how hard one tries to spin it, graduate school in the humanities pales in comparison.) And perhaps most significantly, I realized how unlikely it would be to get everyone in the same place...because ultimately, we're all scattering off to different parts of the
country...or in the case of the Sleeper, the world. The Internet makes it easier to keep in touch, but no one has mastered the art of being in two places at once, and as everyone goes off to start their own families and their own lives, the odds are against recapturing the past. Not that the probability of that happening was particularly high in the first place.
Compounding this pessimism was a request from my parents to empty out some of the old boxes and files which have rested, largely untouched, under my bed since my undergraduate days. A quick perusal at home confirmed first that I am allergic to dust and that my room needs a good vacuuming. Second, I learned that the boxes in question contained papers extending back to the sophomore year of high school, including two out of the three parts of my 10th grade examination on The Scarlet Letter, my campaign speech for student council treasurer, and practically every calculus exam I ever took. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. Birthday cards, old photographs, blue book exams from college...they were all there. And now I had to winnow them down. I packed up the relevant boxes in my car and headed towards home, stopping overnight at the Maestro's place for his annual holiday party. (I confess to being a little nervous leaving the full documentary record of my past locked the back seat of the Ben-mobile overnight, but fortunately the car somehow survived.)
And so I spent the last day of 2008 sifting through what might, under more fortunate circumstances, be considered critical documents in the Invisible Ben Memorial Archive (est. 2091), trying my best to determine what was representative or at least possessed sufficient sentimental importance to merit saving. I filled up two large white garbage bags with paperwork, but there is still too much to be contained in one, or likely two, 3-inch three-ring binders. I have come to the conclusion that the past is messy, both literally and figuratively, and that, for me as for so many others, it will be impossible to hold on to everything. Letting go remains the challenge. As an aspiring historian, the task becomes even more agonizing, but in the end, practical reality trumps hypothetical scholarship.
Still, as this is likely going to be a multi-day task, I think I'll hold off for now and try my best to celebrate the coming of the New Year. At the end of 2008, the world seems politically unstable, the economy is on the verge of collapse, and the future looks relatively bleak. If you believe some, recovery is on the horizon and it's always darkest before the dawn and so forth. I'm not sure how much I actually believe such optimistic pronouncements, but it sure would be nice if they were right. Here's hoping for a better world in 2009 and making time to spend with the people we care about...no matter where they are.
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