Memory

With spring has come another wave of basement cleaning. If the Collyer brothers got to heaven, I hope they are praying for me. I think about them almost every day. I went looking for something to read about them, too, but the Ottawa Public Library copies of Franz Lidz's Ghosty Men were - you guessed it - both listed as "lost". I wonder what compulsive hoarders' ceiling-high piles of junk they're sitting under right now? I bought my own copy. I even know where it is.

Today I was packing up games our kids have outgrown. Crazy Eights, Thomas the Tank Engine dominoes, Scrabble Junior, and Memory.

Many Memories have passed through our games cabinet. First there was the original, with generic pictures of everyday objects. Our eldest son would cry if someone else found the pair of trains. He always wanted to trade one of his pairs for them.

Then came the 'Bob the Builder' version. They didn't have so many characters "back in my day", as our newly minted teenager sometimes sagely remarks, and it could be quite a challenge to keep the 'Spud the Scarecrow Dancing' card from getting mixed up with 'Spud Walking' or 'Spud Using Heavy Machinery in a Life-Threatening Manner'. I'm sure other parents agree that a 'Bob Having an Accident with his Propane Torch' card would have solved the Spud dilemma once and for all.

After 'B the B' there was the 'Toy Story' version, which also had overly-similar, multiple poses of a couple of the characters. It's very humbling to be beaten at anything by a three year old. Equally challenging was the Tonka Memory game given to Son #2, who loved anything with wheels. There again, it could be difficult to tell a wrecker from a dump truck; Son 2 also turned up his cards like he was playing Texas Hold'em. That whole thing about everyone having to see what he had uncovered probably just seemed like bad strategy.

I have checked every Memory box, and every card is there. I have sealed them in Ziploc bags so the next little lover of trains, tractors, or Jesse the Yodelin' Cowgirl will not go without his or her favorite pair. Each Memory is packed and ready to go; each memory remains, sweetly intact.
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