Have you heard about Dave Williams’ inspirational project? I should say his latest inspirational project, “Joy Is…”?
Dave is a multi-hyphenate writer, author, artist, designer and content creator extraordinaire. The best descriptor I’ve come up with – to describe Dave’s artistry across genres and mediums – is this:
Dave’s work enchants.
The “Joy Is…” project began on Monday, January 20 and every day since then, Dave’s showcased beautiful submissions from creative folks about what matters most, providing relief and respite. A moment to slow down and hear from others about joy and gratitude.
I was thrilled to participate and shared a story about my mom, Sue, and the importance of wholehearted remembering.
Thank you for being here and for checking out Dave’s blog and the “Joy Is…” project. Reminding me that I find joy in appreciating talent, meeting new friends. 💝
Joy is…Remembering
I can’t help but reminisce during holiday time. Invariably, I find myself retrieving memories — either as a byproduct of baking and whipping up family favorites or indulging in an adventure in photo retrieval. Adventure … you might be wondering? Yup. I have yet to digitize the bins and bins of pics that comprise the family archives — not just on my side of the family but hubby Paul’s, too.
In our basement you will find nearly ten plastic containers — the big boys, thanks to Costco — and while the contents are secure and the bins are labeled, that’s where the intent to organize has stopped. Ceased in place. I can’t figure out if I’m reluctant because I periodically enjoy a foray into the basement, looking for the bin labeled “Sue” — for my mom — or “Sue and Sonny” — the bin devoted to photos and trinkets from my parent’s love story.
There are several bins for my sweet sister Lisa; mementos from her Special Olympics victories and photos galore and bins for our dear daughter Delaney. As our only, we captured ALL the moments we could and tried to chronicle her childhood in photos, but her bins also contain toys, stuffies, bibs, favorite outfits and many of the treasures she created in school.
Paul and I have been married for four decades + and we have our own share of bins. Dutifully marked. Same for the archives for his family. As the last in his line with his mother, father and sister now gone, we’ve become the keepers of heirlooms. Bibles and nuggets of family history — on both sides of his family. Every now and then we wonder if we should review the contents more carefully; unsure what should be shared with cousins now distant and aging. For their children? Grandchildren? But we haven’t. The bins sit, safe and secure and I’ll admit there have been plenty of times that I’ve perused the aisle of shelves and admired the contents, looking through the clear plastic. Sometimes giving the bins a pat-pat for good measure, asking them to sit tight. For now.
I think my reluctance about moving forward with the photos is because I enjoy the spontaneity and surprise. Venturing into the archives, bin by bin, I discover and rediscover puzzle pieces from the past. It is the tangible act of holding — gingerly — a photo or object that carries history that captivates me. And while I know digitizing doesn’t vaporize photos or keepsakes — they still exist — I can’t bring myself to be business-like about organizing further. It’s ridiculous, I know, but I fear the joy might slip away in the act of processing the treasures.
After the holiday decorations were safely stowed recently, I slipped into the basement on my birthday and wondered what treasure I might find. Thinking about my mom and the birthday that we shared for many years. Writing about her in “Surviving Sue” was cathartic, but in many ways Sue’s my ride along every day. Reminding me that pain points are real but I needed to look beyond to see all of her facets. Before her final spiral? Sue was joy.
My spelunking in the bins that day didn’t disappoint. I found a photo, one I’d forgotten about from Sue’s days as a drug store clerk in rural Ohio, circa 1956. The pic was included in the local paper as an advertisement for the pharmacy, long since shuttered.
I remember listening to Sue’s stories about the ice cream parlor attached to the pharmacy and in the pic you can see — in the lower left hand corner — the edge of the soda shop counter and a self-service display for customers who needed their double scoop of strawberry — to go. I remember Sue talking about eating ice cream as she filled the cups each morning. Often the only “meal” she’d have each day. Reflective of the poverty in her family.
I’ve often wondered if Sue’s unhealthy choices about food, drink and indulgences — including her exploration with drug use — originated in the drugstore. Innocently. Grateful for a job that helped feed her family, but what other demons were fed from the experience? I wonder.
I’m grateful to Dave Williams for providing such a potent prompt … ”Joy is …” and the opportunity to share. Joy is remembering. The older I become, the more I’m convinced of the joy in simple things. Even messy bins that hold echoes from the past.
-Vicki 💝
Hi – I’m Victoria, Vicki, Dr. Vicki. I hold a doctorate in Adult Education and I’m a Licensed Professional Counselor (LPC), and author of Surviving Sue | Eckhartz Press.
Check out this link to learn more about my book “Surviving Sue” – all about resilience and love.
Victoria Ponders 
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