I opened the old binder that was on the top shelf of the cabinet in my office. Every once in a great while I go through things to dispose of stuff that I don’t need anymore. The letters on the first page were unmistakable: they were created by a dot matrix printer. The contents of this binder are not going into the trash pile!
The tractor-feed papers at the back of the binder had names on them, names of my former students when I taught non-credit photography courses at Houston Community College. Good times, good times. Between the first page and the rosters was the class handout with a “© copyright 1983” note on the bottom. 42 years ago! Tucked into the pocket on the inside of the binder cover was the test that I used for the class; those were copies of an original that had been typed on an IBM Selectric typewriter. Did I mention 42 years ago? And that those teaching days were very good days?
The commercial availability of digital cameras was still five years off at the time I began teaching that which I have loved since I was six. Memories of creating images, processing film, making prints, sharing photos, mounting exhibits, showing my sons how a print appears in a tray of developer, and the joy of simply seeing the world through a viewfinder rush over and through me. Therein lies the wisdom in the story: there are things you love that will last with you for decades and it serves you well to pay attention to them.
That binder represents my love of photography and teaching. If I continued my search through files and folders, I would find similar reminders related to fishing, too, related to many rich memories as son and as father. Even if you have stepped away from some beloved activity, it doesn’t mean that it cannot feed our heart, soul and mind anew. Even the memories of them are good for you.
Every memory that I have of running on a track, training for or competing in the 880 (that is what the race was called in the old days), tugs at my heart and puts a twinkle in my eye. That doesn’t mean that I have any business trying to replicate those activities now. We cannot necessarily return to things we love in the way things were when we fell in love with them.
I believe we never fully disconnect from the activities or interests that have held our hearts and our attention at some point. Sometimes we reconnect with them and sometimes we simply reminisce about them; either way, we find comfort, inspiration and joy.