Just about two years ago I built a physical representation of my memories of home. I was very fortunate that I had someone, a person that to the best of my knowledge never knew me personally or met me for that matter, went to the expense, the time and trouble to mail me a single red brick. This was no ordinary brick however, it was a brick taken from the fireplace my father had constructed in my childhood home. That house has been taken down, time having caught up to the structure. Still, I know and appreciate the fact that at least one piece remains. I, of course, have written about all that in the past. The story has been recorded should anyone care to read and research that. To research, to investigate that in a systematic fashion to determine the facts. A lot of folks doing just that these days. Personally, in most cases I just enjoy the story and do not concern myself with the research.
Now this replica fireplace I built was made to hold a tea candle in a recessed area. When it is lighted all you see is the flame. It is the flame we all watch when a fireplace is burning after all. There is just something primeval about watching a fire, any fire or flame. Something we inherently know is dangerous, that can destroy everything, but when contained becomes an ally. We stare into those flames and our thoughts wander the universe, rising with the heat. When I light my little fireplace my thoughts wander to home, the home I knew as a child. And that, that is always home no matter where you go in life. That is the beginning. My memories are contained in that tiny flame. I built that replica in an attempt to preserve all that, to share with future generations. The reality is, the best I can hope for is it becomes a curiosity.
I have written, " we are ultimately what we leave behind, not in physical things, but in memory" and I haven't changed my mind about that. Still, I don't think it can hurt anything to leave a few reminders around either. Like small children circling things in the Sears wish book, it's a reminder. We all like to tell tales and share stories. We especially enjoy telling others about things they don't know but we do. That is the basis for all "news" telling the story of who, what, where, when and why. It's our story. I'm attempting to explain the why portion of my life in many of these blogs. It's a biased opinion however and the research is flawed. For that reason I'm presenting a physical representation of my memory. We often here about memories being created, but in my experience, memories are discovered. You won't know the value of that memory until years later. And often that is all that is left, the memory.
What happens to our memories when we are gone? Do they live on with our spirit? Is that where our intuition, our instinct, that inner voice inside all of us comes from? Are they old memories? All stories are just memories repeated. Some are repeated for many generations, and others quickly fade. I do believe our memory is all we can really leave behind. The physical things will disappear given time enough. The pyramids are memories that have lasted a very long time, the stories are still being told. We do hear tales of lost and forgotten cities, of civilizations lost to time. We want to know the why of it.
Why did I build that little fireplace upon that brick? I did that because it makes me smile, I get a good feeling when I light that tiny tea candle. My thoughts turn to my father, the man that designed and built the original. I remember the stories associated with that construction. I remember "helping" by mixing the mortar for him and hauling bricks and mortar up to him on the scaffold. I can hear his voice calling to me, don't make it too soupy! Mortar has to be the correct consistency to work properly. I remember lighting a fire in that fireplace at Christmas time, our stockings carefully placed by the hearth. Only in the movies do you hang them from the mantle unless you want them to burst into flames that is.
Life lessons learned in all of that are remembered, my little fireplace a reminder. Comfort comes in shared memories, even when someone hasn't shared the memory with you. That's why I built that. The intent being to share those memories to present and future generations. Future generations can use their imagination to fill in the details, unless, they choose to do their research that is. I have written several times about this, the story recorded. Sometimes though, the story we write for ourselves holds the most comfort, the greatest pleasure. It's the way I remember it anyway.
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