Wormhole

Traveling 33 years in one night

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How we texted in the good ‘ole days.

Hi, friends!

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and because I must always feel productive, I thought I’d put in 30 minutes sorting stuff in the back of my basement. I’ve recently begun the process of clearing out decades’ worth of possessions so I can eventually sell my house and downsize.

I grabbed a box off a shelf and opened it to discover a forgotten stash of greeting cards, letters, postcards and photos from the late 80s and early 90s. I promptly fell through a wormhole and, for the next three hours, traveled back in time to my 20s.

Waiting within that box was evidence of forgotten moments from my life, punctuated by the milestones of early adulthood. Moving out of my parents’ house and into my first apartment with my then-fiancé (now-husband of 34 years). My first post-college ad agency job. Getting married. Working at my second ad agency job. Buying my first house. Adopting a golden retriever puppy. Leaving my second job to work with my dad (both a great move and a complicated one).

The trippiest part of my trip to the past? It was narrated by my family and friends. Their voices and personalities were so vibrant in their words, it felt like they were in the room. It broke me open.

The pain of nostalgia

Remember that iconic episode of Mad Men when Don Draper presented his advertising campaign to Kodak for their new slide projector? While clicking through slides of his own family, he delivered a pitch that still brings me to my knees:

“...in Greek, nostalgia literally means ‘the pain from an old wound.’ It’s a twinge in your heart, far more powerful than memory alone. This device isn’t a spaceship. It’s a time machine. It goes backwards, forwards. Takes us to a place where we ache to go again. It’s not called ‘The Wheel.’ It’s called ‘The Carousel.’ It lets us travel the way a child travels. Around and around and back home again to a place where we know we are loved.”

Gah, that’s good writing.

We stockpile memories, squirreling them away for later. But memories can turn. Exposed to time and air, they alchemize from joyful to bittersweet, a reminder of all that’s gone. Is nostalgia ever not tinged with melancholy?

I opened cards from my parents and remembered how funny they used to be. I knew this, of course, but reading their quips wrapped me in love and made them seem less out of reach. My dad died 14 years ago and my mom is in Memory Care, her body and mind diminished.

We stockpile memories, squirreling them away for later. But memories can turn. Exposed to time and air, they alchemize from joyful to bittersweet, a reminder of all that’s gone.

My three siblings are still in my life, but we live in different parts of the country and are rarely together in person. Their cards and letters were so light and carefree, with no hint of the weighty challenges to come, including divorce and serious illness.

And then there were the cards and letters from my friends. Lifelong pals I may see only sporadically but remain as close to me as sisters. Camp buddies (IYKYK) with whom I shared a million happy, hilarious memories. The high school friend I loved dearly but lost contact with long before the car accident that would take her life. Old friends from my ad agency days—women I laughed with and learned from, but have mostly slipped from my life.

K and I were best friends for years. We met at my second advertising job when I was 24 and she was 36. Like my current best friend, she was whip-smart and opinionated, with a directness I loved but others might find intimidating. It seems I have a type. We stayed close for a while after I left that job, but eventually fell out of touch.

Poring through her cards, K’s presence was so strong it felt as if I’d just spent hours with her. It struck me how lucky I was to grow up Gen X, old enough to experience life before social media and texting replaced handwritten communications.

Back then, we mailed postcards to our friends when we went on vacation. We wrote letters and mailed them, just for fun. We sent cards—not just for birthdays, but Valentine’s Day, Halloween, anniversaries. And we filled those cards with heartfelt words, funny doodles, and bits of our everyday lives. No text chain, email or Facebook post can ever come close.

I’ll never be in my 20s again or have work friends I see every day. Having worked from home for almost 25 years, I’m not sure those office dynamics are even possible anymore. I also can’t bring back my parents.

But I can do better at keeping in touch with my siblings and friends, and making plans IRL. And if I’m really feeling ambitious, I can leave my house, pick out a greeting card, write a personal message and mail it.

Nostalgia doesn’t have to be crushing. Memories can be uplifting when you relive them with the right people.

Nostalgia doesn’t have to be crushing. I texted my sister a photo of a card she sent me and we laughed at the cartoon she’d drawn and what she’d written beneath it. Memories can be uplifting when you relive them with the right people.

The next day, I texted the last number I had for K on the off chance it was still hers. She replied immediately and, days later, we talked for nearly two hours. Around and around and back home again to a part of my life that maybe isn’t completely over.

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Three Things That Inspired, Entertained, or Intrigued Me

1. I recently finished the audiobook, Lessons in Chemistry, by Bonnie Garmus. I loved the novel (haven’t yet watched the series) as well as the story behind the story. Not only did the author make her publishing debut at age 64 (a true inspiration), she spun an infuriating, misogynistic incident at work into gold and had the last laugh.
   

2. Rosie Okumur is a voice actor with a fun hobby: pranking scammers on the phone. The best part is when she has to hold back from laughing.
   

3. Can you commit to a year of no shopping? Essentials don’t count. But, swearing off retail therapy for a full year? I don’t know if I can (books are essential, right?). Watching organizer, Ivanka Siolkowsky, attempt it for the second year in a row is inspiring. Plus, every day, she’s removing two items from her home, either for donation or recycling. Since I’m determined to pare down, I’m giving it a try.