Memory Box

I listened to a show on the radio last night about keepsakes. These are objects we hold on to for sentimental reasons. When someone knows they are about to die, they are often encouraged by nursing staff to make a ‘memory box’- a box that is filled with the souvenirs from their life. This box is passed down to their dependents as a testament of their time on earth. I just thought that was such a poignant idea that something tangible, something real, is passed on, that this box would contain objects that have a tactile quality- a scent, a texture, a weight.

The world we live in is no more a place of love letters that rustle, tied up in ribbon, of creased and faded photographs, smelling of dust. The digital world deals only with the sense of sight and sound. Will our future memory boxes be a digital drop-box of SMS messages, our favourite emails, mp3s and a link to our Facebook profile?

This show got me wondering. What would I put in my memory box?
I’m not a good person for holding onto things. I lose things. I don’t get attached to objects because I’ll inevitably mislay them. What are the precious things that I’d want as a testament to my life?  I suppose my memory box would have my music in, because every song I’ve written takes me back to the moment I wrote it, to the moment we first played it live, to the moment it connected with someone else. But do those songs give an insight into me? I don’t know. Perhaps this blog does. Perhaps my descendents would read these blogs and form a picture of who I was from these words. But, of course, by the time I shuffle off this mortal coil the Internet may not exist. These blogs will be lost in the mists of cyberspace.

What would you put in your memory box? Which precious keepsakes define you? What would you rescue from your house in a fire?

Love to all.