You Don’t Know It’s Lost until It is Gone

Both my wife and I were planning to write about a recent experience we shared.  In a rare moment of lucidity, we decided to collaborate on the project- a new concept.

Last week, someone stole our memories. Lulled into a sense of security, the alarm was not set and our home was broken into in broad daylight.  Nobody was hurt and considering it was our teenage daughter who was first on the scene, we can only be thankful. 

The burglar was after jewelry, and went straight for the master bedroom where Judi’s valuables were available for convenient shopping on the top of the dresser.  He simply scooped out several handfuls of loot with little regard for what he grabbed.

The monetary value of the stolen items was not inconsequential.  But the real loss was in the sentimental worth.  Ironically the most valuable jewelry pieces, the family heirlooms, were safely hidden away.  It was the pieces Judi wore regularly that were taken.

Judi has a habit of buying jewelry when on vacation.  Practically speaking, those are the only occasions when she has time to make such purchases.  As a result, she had a great collection of jewelry from our many trips to Israel, along with a ring bought on an excursion to Chicago, an anniversary piece purchased by Stan for our 20^th, and a unique pewter item bought in Bath, England while on “holiday” with a friend.  All gone. 

The diamond anniversary pieces and pearl earrings from our wedding will be simple enough to replace.  But, the most heartache comes over the few items that belonged to the unsinkable Betty Taksar Marie Beiner.  The tiny marcasite earrings and small sapphire/gold ring were all ‘Betty-size”.  Every time Judi put them on, she thought about her.  Even if it was just for a second, memories of the family matriarch became a part of Judi’s day;  she loved having those sparkly physical reminders.  Gone.

It was not until the next day that Stan discovered that the gonif had also taken our inexpensive camera.  Why that?  For the burglar, it was just a whim to take a camera sitting out. For us, he stole five months of memories.

We hadn’t yet downloaded all of the photos.  There were some from our daughter’s high school graduation, her UGA orientation and her settling in to her first year in college.  We had had a great hardly seen/never met relatives vacation trip this past summer traveling to Baltimore, NYC and Boston.  We visited family, found some long lost cousins, and met one relative in his 80’s for the first time.  And we had great pictures…all gone.

We know it is just “stuff.”  One of Stan’s most powerful childhood memories came from a moment when Betty dropped a saucer in the home of a California cousin who was a Holocaust survivor.  It was a solitary keepsake that she had brought over from Europe- a singular memory of her childhood home.  The family was mortified when his cousin walked over to the cupboard, grabbed a dustpan and began cleaning it up.  With not an ounce of emotion, she explained that it was a thing.  Her memories were still intact.  But still….sometimes we count on those objects to remind us of things we shouldn’t forget but often do.

It feels like a poignant coincidence that we were robbed during the month of Elul. This is the season when we look back at the past year to recall, reflect and remember.  Visiting the graves of our loved ones is a common tradition, one that helps trigger memories.  It took us more than 24 hours to determine everything that had been stolen.  And each time Judi remembered an item, there was a trip or a person connected to it.  Those happy memories locked away in rings, necklaces, and memory cards are now somewhat tinged with sadness. 

Ultimately, we realize the value lies not in the thing itself, but in the memories evoked. 

So let us suggest another ritual for Elul:  Go through your things, while you still have them! Touch them, smell them, gaze at them and joyfully immerse yourself in the memories that otherwise might be forgotten.

- Stan and Rabbi Judith Beiner

This blog entry is also featured in The Atlanta Jewish Times.