I came a long way for memories. I don't regret any of it but it wasn't necessary. For a long time I thought like the young bride in the movie, A QUIET MAN who wanted to be surrounded by her stuff. It was the things that gave memory a place. But that isn't so. Memory is resident in us all. The journals I put up yestereve are distilled memories but I can remember all of that with just closing my eyes and thinking back. I did that tonight as I talked to a lovely South African lady and her husband and then to a marine turned navy officer at Shakespeare's.
No mistake, I'll leave here with the books I wrote and I treasure the letters an ancestor wrote home more than a century ago but all the rest is debris. I didn't miss it for years and won't miss it forever.