Several years ago I had a very interesting conversation with my 90 year old aunt, who lives in Florida. Prior to that conversation we spent a couple of days together retracing the early married years of my parents. I actually got to stand in the church sanctuary, where my mother and father exchanged wedding vows in 1950. She showed me the neighborhood where they lived in Jacksonville, FL.
As my aunt and I enjoyed fresh seafood, I got to hear the remarkable story of my parent’s life before I came along in 1962. A few moments before my departure I dropped the bomb on my sweet, aging aunt.

I understand that my father had a previous marriage, I told her. She immediately got this glazed and faraway look in her eyes. In her traditional Southern drawl, she said: I don’t know what you are talking about suga’. (Suga’ is Southern for sugar) It is a term of endearment my mother also used on the rare occasions that I was in good graces. I pressed my aunt with a few more details. At that point, you could have skated on her glazed eyes. Avoidance is endemic to established Southern culture. There are certain things that you just don’t talk about. Did my sweet aunt remember the events of my father’s life between 1945 and 1950? I suspect she recaled most of those details. But even my well developed interrogation tactics that I have learned in the process of raising three boys did not get that information from her. She was attempting to protect me from the hurt that burrowing up the past can bring.

Is it best to leave the past unplowed? Should we allow selective memory to carry the day, and only recall the details that we want to remember? I dearly love my aunt. She is the only sibling left from my father’s immediate family. When it comes to the past, I have not chosen avoidance. I have consciously chosen to be an archeologist of sorts. I continue to choose to dig around in the past, and learn what I am able to learn. Archeologists are known to unearth treasures on occasion. I have found that be true.

Recently I have reconnected with people from elementary school that I have not seen for almost 35 years. Some of them recall events and situations that I had long forgotten. They have mentioned names that I have not thought about in decades. I have speculated with them regarding the current life status of mutual acquaintances from those innocent years. I have learned a lot. These individuals were wonderful people back in the day and they are today as well. I have unearthed true treasure. Priceless treasure to be more precise…

Is the entire archeological experience a positive one? Not really. A few unpleasant memories that I had pushed back to a dark closet full of cobwebs in my brain have surfaced. But that does not bother me. I got out some Lemon Pledge for brains and dusted the contents of that closet off very carefully. When the dusting was completed, I was able to view those events pretty objectively. Having the privilege of interacting with the true treasures of life supersedes the stress associated with digging up memories that are distasteful.

I may never know about the events of my father’s adult life that took place from the time he graduated from the University of Georgia until he met my mother in 1950. If I do get that information, it won’t come from my aunt! I am not afraid of that data in the least, because I am confident that there are true treasures lurking the past. We just have to be willing to be archeologists. There is indeed treasure to be unearthed out there. Priceless treasure to be more precise… I am thankful for that treasure today.