And sometimes, I wonder why I pick my parents' bones about discarding old stuff... Dad has preserved some of these things in that room I still call my own- my pass at WB, my ticket to the Liberty Island...Metro tickets (am I still entitled to a refund?)
Found a letter (stumbled upon it, really) that returned undelivered, written when I was in the US. My mom mentions a Europe trip that I was saving up for. Funnily, I don't even remember this bit. So yes, we are well saved for Europe now....but I guess some of that enthusiasm went out of the window as the money came in. "Return like a small pumpkin". Yea, like that was going to ever happen! Dad apologizes for never familiarizing me with snow (the first born always enjoys privileges..like jaunting off to Kashmir, and then rubbing it in with as much salt as there was snow).
I can imagine some of the conversations at home, as they wrote out the letter. Dad's handwriting would have left scant space for Mom, though both essentially, have the same things to say. Of course, Mom dwells more on the eating, Dad a little more on tips for living within a shoestring budget (we were a bunch of underpaid kids, then...but who cared).And yes, Mom's bit did start with the mandatory "Safe" on the left-hand corner. A legacy from the earliest letters I read...from my grandmom...from my aunt. This little thing that I never understood...a force of habit.
It's a different world, this one, that they live in their minds. I am almost fearful, now, of imposing technology (and the things that I think other older people seem to be comfortable with) on Dad. So what if he can't read the hundred feeds from the papers he doesn't buy?So what if they still use the circulating libraries, when they could buy books or read them online? So what if my dad gets confused everytime I yank out the net connxn from the home system on my visit? Or if he still does his banking the regular way- by going to a dozen banks every week, for procedures that might take him less than a minute online?
Some things have a languid pace, that's at once charming and comforting. Irritating, sometimes....but you just have to force yourself to step back, and be reminded of the joy that doing things in (what some would think is) an old-fashioned way, bring to you. Not everything has to be fast and furious. Sometimes, that's re-assuring.
