Until one day, we open the boxes and the memories can breathe.
I've kept some things from my LDS mission, things in boxes. While cleaning, I came across my mission discussion booklet, a sort of Clif Notes for teaching the precepts and doctrine used by missionaries when they find someone who is interested in learning more.
On the day my group was to travel to Denmark, we boarded a plane bound for Seattle, the first leg of our trip. As we waited for the plane to take off, one of the stewards told us some of the Seattle Supersonics basketball players were sitting in first class. A few of us decided to go talk to them.
I don't know who the other players were, but I recognized one...Tom Chambers. For those of a certain age, Tom Chambers was a legend, a local player from the University of Utah who made it to the big leagues, not only made it, but made a career of playing in the NBA. He played for several teams, including the local NBA team, the Utah Jazz. Meeting him was a big deal for a nineteen-year old.
Though he and I had never met, I recognized him and he recognized who we were. "Hello," he said. "Where are you headed?" he asked me.
"Denmark," I said.
"Well, you look like one of them." I remember him saying and I thought that was funny. I asked for an autograph, handed him the only thing on which to write an autograph, and he obliged. After that, the steward quickly ushered us from first class, and we followed her instructions.
The memory was buried in a box in my mind. It came flooding back as I opened the book, remembered the encounter on the plane, and quickly found the signature. Even though the book and the memories have been buried in a box these many years, I'm grateful I saved the book. I'm grateful for the memories on that plane and all the memories that followed in the next couple of years. Seeing what was written in my little book brought many of those memories back to breathe.
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