A Memory is a Terrible Thing to Taste...

Memories are terribly important to us. They are the basis for stories, folklore and rumors. They can also cause crazy emotions such as sadness, happiness, anger and ecstacy.

I have spent a lot of time this summer talking about summers past. I have truly missed them. My favorite summer memories that have popped up this year are the summers when I was a leetle boy, and hung out with my mom's Uncle Phil.

My mom, Grandma and I would go to see Uncle Phil and Auntie Aggie, and Uncle Phil and I would head out to the garage to let the wimmin's talk. He was the coolest, because he was the oldest guy I knew who would treat me like a person and not as a kid.

In the garage, Uncle Phil always seemed to have some building materials laying around. He would let me build the crappiest things in the world - although my imagination turned them into birds, planes, cars, etc. When we got done building stuff, we would head down the street to the park and play.

This entire summer, the weather has reminded me of those unemcumbered days shooting the bull with my buddy Phil. Those memories have given me such pain and longing in my heart that I haven't known what to do with it.

I was talking to my mom yesterday, and realized that maybe I just needed to embrace those memories, and acknowledge them. Maybe I need to say a few silent prayers to Uncle Phil, who died long ago. Maybe these memories are his way of contacting me to say: "hey, my brother, don't forget me!"

Maybe these are also memories that need to be documented for posterity.

Memories can be a bitch, man, but if we can figure out the proper use for them, perhaps we can grow into stronger, better people. Looking back on my time with Uncle Phil, for example, has got me wondering if I have been someone for my nephews and nieces to look up to - just like I still do to my old pal Uncle Phil.

Thank you for blessing me with those memories. I hope you're stockpiling some nails wherever you are, I've learned to swing a pretty mean hammer!