Memories are like jewels—treasure them

Making memories doesn’t require a trip to Disney or Six Flags. Sometimes it’s just an unscheduled serendipitous stop at a fast food spot on a Friday night. That’s how Sterling, Nana and I ended up at Taco Bell.

I had the Triple-Double Crunchwrap box that comes with a soda and two tacos. Nana had a burrito. Sterling—who’ll turn 9 in September—had three cheesy roll-ups and one of my tacos: his first ever.

Sterling is a special fella: He was born with a heart defect and had to undergo surgery as a baby. Chances are he’ll need one or more surgeries in the future—but you’d never know it by his actions: He a rough-and-ready, rumble-bumble little critter who loves dinosaurs, fish, turtles, and bike-riding.

Sterling and I have spent quite a bit of time together watching some of his favorite TV shows, including “Sponge Bob” and “River Monsters” with Jeremy Wade. Good times. Great times. I mention that to emphasis that you don’t need lots-a money to make memories. My Grandpa Lamb and I used to play checkers as he sat in his rocking chair. As a treat he liked white bread—untoasted—slathered with real butter (at room temperature) and sprinkled thick with sugar. He’d sip hot tea he poured into a saucer to cool. Memories.

My Grandpa Cassanese, who came from Italy, had a big garden with corn and beans and such. His grandkids used to help him pick rocks, pull weeds and harvest his fresh veggies. Memories.

I turned 70 in January, so making memories is more important than ever. I’m hoping my grandkids remember me—remember I loved them, thought of them, prayed for them. It might not be much of a legacy, but it’s what I got. In the meantime, I’m going to follow Sponge Bob’s sage advice: “ Let go of what kills you, and hold on to what keeps you breathing."

Sounds good to me …