Happy Monday! I hope the intense heat didn’t keep you from having a great 4th of July weekend.
At the last minute, Hubby and I decided to zip over to the next town and take in their fireworks display. Quite by accident we ended up parked a few rows from our son and three Grands, so we watched the show with them. It was our 2-year-old’s first fireworks and if I shared pics and videos of the Grands, I’d show her pointing and squealing in delight at each brilliant burst. It was the perfect ending for a 4th of July weekend steeped in patriotism and hope. I’ll tell you more about that next week. But for today …
Do you remember Jim Croce’s song, Time in a Bottle? It came out in 1972. The verses begin, ‘If I could save time in a bottle …’ ‘If I could make days last forever…’ ‘If I had a box just for wishes …’ Croce wrote the song for his first child, after his wife told him she was pregnant.
Usually musical ear worms are irritating, but this past weekend Time in a Bottle was more welcome and soothing, thanks to two time-capsules.
The first one was buried fifty years ago in my hometown, with the scheduled unburial this 4th of July. The time capsule was one of several projects undertaken celebrating the Bicentennial. Like most cities big and small across the United States, we found creative ways to take part in our nation’s birthday. One fun exhibit of public art was painting our fire hydrants as patriotic figures. But one big event, sponsored by the local Lions Club, (a men’s civic organization), was the time capsule–a casket and vault donated by Longstreth Memorials.
Everyone was invited to include something and many people and businesses accepted the invitation. The capsule was buried in one of our parks and a garden of flowers planted over it. Over the years people would mention it, ask when it would be opened, what had been included. Late this past June, Longstreth Memorials (still in business, run by the founder’s grandson) and city workers exhumed the vault and the Galion History Center took care of the contents. The Lions is no longer in existence, but … more on that in a minute.
The above photos are from the Galion History Center. Among the contents were letters written to family members and future grandchildren, letters to selves, grocery ads, flags, Bicentennial memorabilia, local church photo directories, family photos and other business and newsworthy items. For the size of the capsule, I was surprised there wasn’t more in it. And I was saddened that my family hadn’t contributed.
On Saturday, the GHC held a time capsule reveal, inviting the public to come and see the contents, and especially moving, invited the families or their descendants of those who left letters or artifacts to come and receive them. I can only imagine their curiosity and anticipation of what waited for them in those envelopes. And the note about the Lions Club? Even though it’s no longer functioning, the oldest surviving member at 100 years-old, and a member who was only in his twenties at the time the capsule was buried were present at the reveal.
Because of the close-knit weaving of small towns, I think they in particular capture and celebrate the big things in intimate and meaningful ways.
The second time capsule moment came as I was clearing out photos on my computer, some from my work compiling our parish centennial book. For the dedication of our parish’s new church in 1992, the youth ministry students constructed a time capsule–much smaller than the casket-sized one my hometown put together!–and enshrined it in a small niche outside our adoration chapel. Many of us current members didn’t know it existed. The treasure was opened during one of our parish centennial celebrations in 2019, with some of those former teens in attendance. Even they couldn’t remember what all they’d packed into it.
The teens had included items they believed represented the world at that time–through baseball cards, political bumper stickers, a Time magazine, an original poem, photos, news clippings, and a special brick that had been part of the Vatican’s Holy Door, a door that’s opened and resealed during Jubilee Years, donated by a parishioner. The students also included a message recorded on VHS … and the parish still had a machine that could play it! After the celebration, the items were replaced, with the addition of current artifacts, and returned to the niche. I’m not sure when it will be re-opened.
In recent months, I read of towns and groups putting together time capsules in honor of our nation’s 250th anniversary, and my initial reaction was how wonderful, then, how quaint. With all our digitized media and endless Cloud storage, uncovering a 50 or 100-year history takes no more than a few minutes at a computer. What tangible artifacts still hold meaning today that someone would put in a time capsule for tomorrow?
Then I thought of those letters to families and photos, and how few of us write letters anymore or print the photos off our phones. The personal connections and messages would be the real treasures hidden and uncovered years later.
Each of my Grands–well, not the 2-week-old–has a ‘treasure box’ filled with rocks, money, and little trinkets they’ve collected. Occasionally one will bring theirs out and show me, and they remember and marvel at what’s in there from when they were 4 or 5 years-old … so long ago now at 8 and 9.
As I wrote this post, I wondered what I’d place in a time capsule. I’m still wondering. Maybe the recorded delighted squeals from a 2-year-old experiencing fireworks. A reminder to embrace childlike wonder and awe.
What would you place in a time capsule?
May your week be filled with mundane and special wonders for tucking away for tomorrow. I hope you’ll join me again on Monday.
A Writer's Window 