The great winter storm of 2026 has now hit. Instead of preparing for hurricanes, I’m now all iced up. It’s snowing right now and the neighborhood birds are all huddled up on my porch. Why didn’t they fly south?

“What are we, if not an accumulation of our memories?” ― S.J. Watson

I can’t seem to remember to close the garage door less than a minute after coming in from my vehicle. There’s now a Post-it note on the mirror in the bathroom. Do you ever find yourself standing in the kitchen trying to figure out how you got there and what you’re looking for? There’s nothing more frustrating than being in the middle of a conversation and you go blank, unable to come up with the name, song title or famous battle from the Peloponnesian War.

A Quilt Filled with Memory

When the cold weather arrived here in north Texas, I looked down and there was the patchwork quilt my grandmother had made for me over fifty years ago. When helping unpack from the move, my daughter was putting it away and remarked that it was the comfort she associated with when she was under the weather and cuddled up on the couch.

My grandparents were both creative personalities. Sewing was one of my grandmother’s constant activities. Probably started out of necessity. She made outfits for my mother, sister and of course herself. Looking down at the quilt over the decades, I see the squares of fabric that remind me of what my family were wearing. Even a bathrobe she made for me. It’s not just a quilt, its memories all sewn together.

My wife’s cousin recently created quilts for all the cousins in the family. I was blessed to get one. It’s put together with material with a Baylor theme. A perfect memory of a time that changed our lives. Something to pass down with stories from all of us who spent years in that special place.

Before the internet was invented and screens were mass produced, turning even small children into stark raving consumers, philosophers invented the term “hyperreality.”  Describing our increasing exposure to symbols of reality instead of the real thing. Have you listened to a young person speak and they keep using the word “like” over and over again? It’s now reported that teens spend half of their awake hours on a screen. What they are viewing isn’t real, it’s hyperreal. The amount of time children spend outside has been on the decline for decades. It’s now on average, 4 hours a day (they spend twice as much time on a screen).

Hanging on to that quilt is something real that connects me to real people and a real past.

“Everybody needs his memories. They keep the wolf of insignificance from the door.” ― Saul Bellow

Each Ornament is Precious

My grandchildren and I were taking down Christmas the other day. This year I needed to remove all the ornaments from my big and little tree. This was the last Christmas for those trees. Both are white and for some reason each got a brown film after the move. I can’t figure it out?? My normal routine is to disassemble the big tree and pack away each section in its own plastic tote while leaving the ornaments on it. It has worked great and makes decorating a very short chore. The smaller tree gets lowered into its own tote. Each year, voila, Christmas is lifted out and put up in minutes.

As we removed each ornament, I was able to share a story or memory with the kids. We had an ongoing conversation about Christmas, what it means and our own family holiday history. Growing up my grandmother had ornament craft sessions and each year when we put those on the tree we remembered that time together. One year we made Christmas cookie ornaments. They were baked in the oven but couldn’t be eaten. Where did those end up? That cold evening we had an unexpected blessing shared together with popcorn from Waco, and homemade pizza hot from the oven. We will have to plan for next year decorating the new trees. A lot of bird ornaments to find places for.

That evening, making pizzas, carefully packing away each ornament was a real shared experience that we three used to build new significant stories in our lives.

Nothing Can Beat the Real Thing

My second-grade grandson is playing ice hockey. I’m amazed at his skills staying up on the ice and hitting that puck. I can barely get up and down the stairs in the bleachers watching him at practices and games. I just know that tumbling down those concrete steps is in my future. I’m shopping for a spectator helmet to wear. 

His parents have taken him to Dallas Stars open practices, and he has been able to see some of his new heroes up close in person. He didn’t take his eyes off all the action the entire evening.  The real thing always beats a TV screen. It can be a lot of trouble and expense, but attending your favorite sporting event is always worth it. Especially with children who are old enough. If they aren’t, there’s always a small fortune in concessions you can fill them up with. I’ve had much practice missing the game while standing in the line for popcorn. But the photos over the years prove we did have a great time.

Watching the kids at gymnastics, hockey and every fall at the football games always beats watching it on TV. Nothing can beat that memory we are building. The sights, smells, sounds and (for me) dangers will bind us together forever.

It always amazes me that spectators want to coach, coaches want to officiate, and officials just want to watch the game. – Lou Holtz

The real world is filled with real memories that will be carried into the future:

• Go to the sporting event, regardless of how much trouble. NFL owners are starting to complain about the high cost of attending games. Let’s see if anything happens.
• Get up and take a walk with friends and family. Park further away so you can see and talk about where you are.
• How long can you go without checking your phone? I used to have college students voluntarily drop theirs off in a basket when they came into class. I also had to work hard not to bore them to tears (an homage to my wife).

I’ve stashed away a lot of little things in my new smaller space. Problem is, I can’t find the great spots where I put each item (stapler, stamps, that letter, bug spray). I need a big map. Where did that memory go?

“Some memories are realities and are better than anything that can ever happen to one again.” ― Willa Cather