My parents recently divorced after 37 years of marriage. My mom packed up boxes for my brother and I as she prepared to move from the house we had lived in most of our lives. These boxes included things she thought might have special meaning to us. I was eager to open up my boxes, feeling as if I was about to discover childhood treasures.



It has been said out of the five senses; smell brings back memories the quickest. As I opened the dusty cardboard box, memories came flooding back to me, bringing tears to my eyes. Maybe it was the impending divorce (even though I was an adult). Maybe it was because I was thinking back to when I was the age of my own daughters. As I started to unload the items, one by one, my mother and I talked and laughed about old times; the good times - the not so good times. It was if my childhood could be summed up in the contents of one cardboard box.

Amongst the dolls (No-No was my favorite), roller skates (I could go for miles) and blankets (still smelled of tears and slobber), I saw one remaining item. The last item I pulled out was my Fisher Price Tape Recorder from 1980. Wow. That thing gave me hours, upon hours of entertainment when I was a kid. Then I noticed it still had a cassette tape in the

recorder; how awesome. Talk about a diamond in the rough. Amazingly enough, the batteries still worked and I pushed "play." Suddenly, I heard my Grandfather and I talking away during the Blizzard of 1980. Just hearing a couple words (and my little voice, as I was only 6 at the time) immediately took me back to a different place and time.

My grandparents were visiting us in Colorado at Christmas and a huge snow blizzard during the early 80's insured we would have a "White Christmas." When I say blizzard, I mean snow engulfed the front door and we could not leave the house for milk, kind of blizzard. I remember it as if it was yesterday. I was running around inside (cabin fever?) eager to go make snow ice-cream and sled outside in the powder.

My grandfather, whom was among my favorite people in the entire world, was downstairs cleaning his eye-glasses. The cassette tape started rolling and the "interview" went something like this; "Whatcha doing?" "I am cleaning my glasses." "Why are you cleaning your glasses?" "I am cleaning my glasses so I can have a better outlook in life!" This struck me as the funniest thing I had ever heard. We both giggled and so it went as the snow fell outside and

neither of us cared.

My eyes water still today, thinking about those special times with my grandfather; times when nothing else mattered other than playing games all day in our imaginary world. I cherish this tape. To have his voice on tape with an example of the giggling and joy our relationship was built around. I miss and love him dearly. Although I just saw him a month ago, it is not the same. He now has no real idea who I am.

See, my grandfather is now in a nursing home with

Alzheimer's.

I am so very grateful that even at a young age, I realized the importance of that candid conversation and did not record over it. As my grandfather slowly becomes a different person as the stages of Alzheimer's progress, I have somewhat of a time capsule. By accident, I have a piece of my grandfather's legacy. It has been a wonderful gift that has changed my life. It has changed my overall attitude towards preserving moments and creating a keepsake. Due to this little jewel that I was given, I will ensure that both my daughters will have my personal legacy (and inadvertently their own). As they grow older, I will also share the importance of record keeping and leaving their own legacy.

Although the smell of my old toys brought memories flooding back, it was the sound of hearing my Grandfather say, "So, I can have a better outlook in life," that has actually changed mine.