In the midst of packing I’m also making an effort to throw out the piles upon piles of junk I’ve collected. I was/am something of a packrat, but I’ve decided that it might not be a bad idea to finally throw out broken knickknacks and receipts from 1994.Ã‚Â Hard to believe some of the ridiculous shit I’ve kept for years and years. That I saved Spanish homework from a decade ago is even dumber when you realize that in that timespan I’ve lived in 2 countries, 2 states, 4 cities, and 12+ different houses.
Among my discoveries:
– $21.30 in cash & $38.82 in gift cards
– two cards/notes from the late Lisa Herman
– a billion overwrought cards/notes from (and sometimes to) dozens of once-loved women
– my temporary AND real Filipino driver’s license + a half-dozen Faith Academy ID cards
– my rejection letter from the National Honor Society where I am praised for my leadership, cooperation, and upright moral character… but chided for my inability to accept criticism and impersonable demeanor. I seem to have had particular problems with “maintaining a loyal school attitude… rendering any requested service to the school… and complying with school regulations…” It might reflect poorly on my high school that one of its all-time most straight-laced nits still found it difficult to tow the party line.
– poems & proverbs written as a child, including this gem that probably dates to the first Gulf War:
My daddy went to war today,
he left us all alone.
Today he went to fight for us,
in places I don’t know.
Today he went to kill our foes,
and why I do not know.
Where right seems wrong,
and wrong seems right,
Why can’t we stop this war?
and now I’m in this crazy daze,
My daddy went to war today.
Heart-wrenching stuff, huh? I should’ve been America’s first 8-year-old poet laureate. Please note: my father has never be in the military, let alone fought a war. Odd, too, that it took me another 15 years to re-discover the pacifism I apparently knew as a child.