I knew a couple when the children were much younger. They were parents of another child in my daughters elementary school class. He, an engineer at a reputable firm and she, a ‘stay at home’ Mom.
Earlier on, I knew them only by way of the other parent’s ‘introduction’ – ” that annoying couple with all the crazy equipment.”
You see, they were always standing to the back of the auditorium during the children’s recitals and programs – inevitably with high tech cameras continuously rolling.
Their child grew up before the camera lens; the glint of her parents’ eye obscured from view.
“Why don’t you just sit down, enjoy the program and let the cameras roll,” I remember asking.
“Are you kidding,” he snipped. “And just what am I going to look back on when she’s grown?”
They were so concerned with missing it all, that they vowed to capture every moment on film. Yet, they never actually experienced the energy of the moment. Sadly, they lived vicariously through shutter stops and video lighting.
Years later, I learned there had been a terrible fire. “We lost everything,” he shook his head sadly.
I couldn’t even offer the consultation, “those objects are just things, the true meaning is in the memory.”
And though, perhaps, an extreme example – it does illustrate an important life lesson.
That is, to simply pay attention.
I’ve always believed that we’ve ‘gifted’ these senses to lend context to our being, to help us appreciate the subtleties of each glorious, new day.
For me, these memories are quite vivid. In any given moment, I can feel the stubble from my father’s cheek, or catch a hint of Mom’s “White Shoulder” still lingering in air. I can close my eyes, and hear the excited squeals of my little ones – racing fearlessly onward to embrace the adventure of day.
For me, these memories are never further than a single thought away – a moment of silence graciously carrying them ‘home.’
You see, there are just some things that cannot be captured to film. There are just some things that must be experienced fully.
It’s the experience that makes the memory, my loves – everything else is secondary.
