“…everything has a past. Everything – a person, an object, a word, everything. If you don’t know the past, you can’t understand the present and plan properly for the future.” 
― Chaim Potok, Davita's Harp


Look at a calendar and think back 5 years, 10 years, 20 years. What do you remember?  How many years back can you go and recall a poignant moment? Perhaps now it feels like a silly accomplishment or life lesson, but at the time, it punched you in the face. Maybe a lesson learned as a child that to this day is a habit of function. Maybe an experience you want to pass on to your kid(s) so they don't do the same.

I had some time to ponder recently while on a flight and I realized that I can reach back 35 years to pivotal moments that have anniversaries this year in multiples of 5. However if I go back in increments of 4, 6 or 7 years I get entirely different perspectives. Always wondering where my next story  will come, I decided to pepper this little internet outpost with anniversaries this year. Events that happened 5,10, 20, 25, 30 and 35 years ago. Some will be the month that they happened or are relevant, others on the day that they happened. Some kinda made my butt pucker in the moment and now as well as I realize the luck I've had. Others are simply silly, but they all have a point, a life lesson.  It was fun coming up with the list and I hope you enjoy the stories I'll spill.

One characteristic that separates myself from my son can be seen with any snack put in front of either of us. G will eat a cookie or two, a handful of pretzels or whatever then stop. I on the other hand will eat whatever is in front of me until it is gone. Then I get sick, gassy and generally remind myself that I'm an idiot.

The last three years we have stumbled into the tradition of building gingerbread houses at Christmas. Standing in the candy aisle at the grocery store with a cart full of every shape of confection with a 5 year old and asking him, Is there anything else we might need? is guaranteed to get some odd looks of judgment from passers by. That might be my favorite part.

The tradition is good. We sat as a family and buttered up graham crackers with cake filling as mortar and used candy canes as trusses while discussing what a summer tree house project might need to include. Stories and plans for coming adventures continued each night after Christmas when G was allowed to dismantle a particular section of his candied structure to eat. This went on like clockwork after dinner not just through the week till New Years' eve, but another week as well. He tediously ate away at sections of wall, roof and window framing as if he were taking the pieces of dried, stiff, stale licorice, pruned gummy bears and slightly melted Skittles to a candy land rebuilding center to recycle for a gingerbread house remodel next year. He savored every stale bite.

Near the end of the deconstruction I decided to tell G of a gingerbread house I made when I was in kindergarten. It was a basic cabin type structure built similarly with graham crackers and based on a piece of cardboard. It was a class project early in the week before the holiday break. It had candy corn shingles and black licorice for siding. It was a work of art and I was excited to take it home to show off. The trouble was that I walked home from school and I had to hold it with both hands in front of me roughly 1500 ft past the park, through the alley and across another two blocks to my house. (I'm fairly certain of the distance as I just checked on Google maps.)

I'll be honest,  I made it across the schoolyard, past the park and through the alley to Lassen Park Circle, a mere 2/3rds of the trip, before it occurred to me that I was carrying an empty piece of cardboard with some frosting stains. In the distance of roughly 3 soccer fields I had eaten my entire gingerbread house. That last block toward home was an emotional journey as my pride of handiwork became a fear of consequence due to my jaw work.

As an adult looking back at this memory from nearly 40 years ago, I still recall the feeling of shock of realizing I ate the whole thing. It started with just a nibble, just this side of the roof...just the whole roof but not the walls...just the back wall...then the wall that fell down...then....well...I better just get it over with!

Likewise etched in my mind is of how angry my mom was. She was pissed. The next morning she pinned a note to the back of my jacket, firmly instructing me to not remove it but sternly to walk up to my teacher and have her unpin it from my coat. The note explained my indulgence the day before and requested that I stay after school to make another. I was to wait in the school office after finishing for my mother who would pick me up and drive me home so I would be supervised and not engage in the eating of my gingerbread house again.

G was a little disgusted with me as I told him the story. We sat at the kitchen table nibbling away at a wall. As the story progressed he pulled the plate a little further from me, closer to himself. His eyes stayed fixed on me, occasionally scanning to my hands as I broke a bit of frosting off the wall.  You can have one more bite before I have to go to bed, but don't eat anymore without my permission.