We know where prehistoric men existed because they left footprints.
The 1970’s and 1980’s saw growth in the American popularity of wilderness sports – like hiking and camping. With it came slogans about being good stewards of the land – like “leave no trace.”
As I examine my possessions with the idea of having only a few essentials, it’s pretty obvious that the “leave no trace” wasn’t a philosophy that guided my life. I have tchotchkes that remind me of past events. Almost all were proud moments. In a fairytale of my imagination, my grandsons would bring one down to me in my easy chair and say “Grandpa, tell me about when you got this!”
Another slogan about enjoying the wilderness is “take nothing but pictures – leave nothing but footprints.” This is a great metaphor for how to live with those we love.
What happens to the little vases that come when you send flowers? It’s a “footprint” for sure – but the thing that counts is only the memory. The joy. There’s something to be said for sending “boxed” roses.
We also know about prehistoric man from their jewelry. Items of gold or stone or clay give us a clue about what ancient men had on their minds.
As a teenager I gave you a bracelet. We don’t know where it is – but the memory is priceless. Today I don’t think about giving you jewelry – I think about making your breakfast. As long as our minds stay sharp, we’ll always know where that memory is.
The best I can hope for is leaving footprints across your soul.