Recently I needed a match, not lighter, but a match. Talk about something that really hasn’t gotten a lot of attention lately is the old fashioned “book of matches”. Growing up in the 1970’s it was commonplace to have books of matches lying around, or in the case of our family, stick matches. There were the usual pilot lights needing to be relit on the stove and such, trash needing to get burned in the ditch (Greenpeace not yet having formed a chapter in New Liberty Iowa, population 89, in 1977) and Fourth of July fireworks (legal and illegal) needing to be ignited….you just had to have matches around the house. At that time in the late 1970’s and early 1980’s I, for whatever reason, collected matchbooks. Businesses would have them lying about their countertops for their customer to pick up and use later and hopefully remember to “come back” and patronize that particular business again. It was a different time, more people smoked and if a kid wanted a pack of matches….”hell kid…go for it.” I’d take the newly acquired matchbook and toss it into an old one gallon pickle jar with the rest of the matchbooks that I’d collected and move onto bigger and better things, which in that time in my life was probably reading comic books, playing with our dog and screwing around playing baseball.
Fast forward to the present I now have that “pickle jar of memories”. I went through it last night and wondered why on earth did I keep some of this stuff? I can only imagine that it was sitting on my dresser and as I emptied the contents of my pockets from the days activities various, “things” ended up in the jar. Some of my favorites are listed below in no particular order.
I should recycle this stuff, or throw it out. Its not good for anything, the business’s mostly long-gone…as are the people. Only the simple and common memories of a farm kid from Iowa from nearly forty years ago. Why save them? Until I come up with a good reason I guess that they’ll just have to go back into the pickle jar and wait until I can come up with a good reason to save them. When that happens….they’ll be my adult kids problem to figure out.
Until next time….peace to you and yours.
Just your average middle aged guy who has a wild imagination.