Soap Boxes and Remembering

You'd be genuinely surprised what you can find laying around the house if you look hard enough. Buried beneath all the clutter and useless ornaments we have lying all over the place are some real gems. We've all been there. You're looking for something, and shuffling through all odd knick knacks, when you come across something that catches your eye. Something that triggers an emotional response in your head so unmistakeable, you just have to stop and check it out. For me, it was the soap box in the back of my dads office cabinet. I hadn't seen that rotting cardboard box for years. Anyone else would have passed it off for trash, but the minute I saw that faded blue logo on the old water stained, ripped-up cardboard, I knew I had come across something big.

Ever since we moved into the house 6 years ago I had been trying to track down this old soap box. My family had kept it for as long as I could remember. Inside were hundreds upon hundreds of 3x5 pictures dating back to the 1940s up till about 2001. It was the night before Nick and I left for Costa Rica that I happened across the old soap box. I stopped packing my things and gingerly brought the box out onto the floor. The sides were caked in dust, and as I brought the box to the floor, the dust cloud that followed its descent sent my cat fleeing for the next room.

Inside I found relics of my parents teenager years, my brothers highschool graduation pictures, pictures of my grand father and his taxi, our old house in Matawan, my old dog Spikey, the proverbial baby pictures, and so much more. By the time I had finished going through them all, the floor was covered in pictures. Little 3x5 windows into the past.

I always tell the photography club members on the first meeting of the year " Your camera is a time machine. With it, you litterally have the ability to freeze time, to capture a moment, and superimpose it on a piece of film (nowadays a memory card). And one day many years from that time, you'll pick up that one picture and remember. The feelings you felt, the things you said, and the thoughts you thunk [i know thats not a word] will all come rushing back to you. You'll relive that moment. And you'll travel through time." It gets them thinking. And its true. Distant memories of Chinese New Year parties, and seeing the Grand Canyon 13 years ago came rushing back. All of a sudden I could feel the helicopter blades throbbing again. I remembered looking down and seeing the vast, breath taking gorges, being completely awestruck, and feeling so small. I remembered rolling a giant rock up to the edge of a cliff, and feeling the rush of happiness and childish glee as I watched it plumet thousands of feet into the river below. I remembered the checkered picnic table cloth, and my uncles wire framed glasses. I remembered the cactuses, and the blazing bright blue sky. I just stared at the picture for awhile and remembered.

Images of my childhood jumpstarted those distant memories that had long since laid dormant in the back of my head. I remembered the firemens parade in Matawan, and always losing the fireman costume pagent to these twins who had real fire suits. It was a big deal to me back then. Every year the local fire department would take the kids for rides on the fire trucks, let us honk the horns, and climb all over. And after that we would go to the community center, or maybe it was the fire house, and the kids would dress up in firemen suits from halloween stores or mother's sowing machines, and compete to get their picture taken with the big (i forget his name) fire prevention dalmation, who was really just a man in a suit. I never won, but that was irrelevant, since the fire trucks parked in my Dads commuter lot, and I got the private tour every year. Those twins would have been so jealous.

There were pictures of my Grandpa, who passed away in 2005. I never knew him well. But for a long time he stayed with us at our house in Mawatan. I remember seeing him out the big glass dining room window everyday, just standing by the fence where our backyard met the lake. Some days he would be doing these weird excersizes, other days he would feed the ducks. Mostly he'd just stand by the water and look out across the lake. When it got cold, he put wood in a furnace. I never understood why. He didn't even stand by it. I guess he just liked to burn wood.

I'm very thankful my brother got into photography. It not only got me interested in it, but it kept our excursions well documented. Nick always brought his camera when we went fishing. We never caught much back then. I remember for two whole summers, Nick and I went down to this pier in Lawrence harbor. We'd cut up bait, cast out and sit on the pier and talk, or I would try to catch the little rock crabs scurrying across the big boulders, and Nick would hit a golf ball on the sand. For two years we caught nothing, but still, every saturday, week after week, we were there. Our paitence finally paid off. I can't remember the date. I think it was some time in August. For some reason, that day, every single bluefish on the east coast it seemed, decided to school up next to our pier. For two years we went without seeing a single fish till that day. We filled a garbage bag full, and the next saturday, like nothing had happened, it was dead calm. We never did catch anything there again.

I didn't know it at the time, but spikey would pass away 4 days after I found the soap box, while I was in Costa Rica. I found out over facebook. It was late in the evening, and I walked out to the beach alone to watch the sun dip below the horizon. I thought of my old dog. I remember the day we got him. My cousin and I had been clamoring for a puppy for years, and this one day in December, when I was in the second grade, I opened the back door to see a tiny german shepard puppy. We named him Spike, and he was the best dog anyone could ask for. I remember a few weeks after we got him he followed me onto the bus. My mom came running after him and carried him home. He got into all sort of shennanigans. One day he jumped the fence, and we though he mauled some commuter in the lot. It turned out the commuter was a dog trainer, and he had Spike sitting on his haunches begging for a treat. There was the time Spike fought the groudhog. The two had been archrivals ever since we moved into the Broad Street house. I remember seeing a cloud of dust over by the shed as Spike and the groundhog went at it. I ran out to stop the fight but by then the groundhog had won. Spikey had a little cut on his ear, and the groundhog made it back under the shed. I always thought his pride had taken a hit after that.

One thing I really noticed was how different my parents looked. It wasn't just that they looked younger. They were happier. They dont smile as much now. In the old photographs I saw young Nancys and Sunnys, with beards and skirts. They looked as though they were enjoying themselves. I could see the warmth in their faces. The spark of youthfulness, of un-worried minds and big ambitions. What happened? They're colder now. And they fight every now and then. They dont talk much, save for business. I wish they'd open up the soap box and remember.

I spent the rest of the night leafing though stacks of 3x5s. My head was inundated with memories, that I relived with each new picture. It was remarkable. I'm glad I found that box. It's a time machine, really. You should try it sometime. I hope its not just me. I guess I really value the past. We speak highly of times gone by. Better times I guess you could say. There were no midterms or SAT results. No job searches or expenses to pay. Thank God the camera was invented. Until we invent a real one, it's the best time machine we've got.

Music I'm Listening to Right Now:

Favor - Rocco Deluca and The Burden