One Memory at a Time--

“I will have to put that in my life story,” I used to think whenever I had a memorable experience. But it seemed I could never follow through on my good intentions; every time I tried to write about my life in an organized fashion, I ended up frustrated.

Then I was inspired to simply write down my memories as they come. When something triggers a special remembrance, I make a note to include it in my “Memory Book”. Sometimes it is several days before I have time to actually record the experience, but I have found that it usually makes it to the written page.

My book includes stories of my childhood, my family, and days that have brought me joy. I have also added remembrances from my husband and children. The length of my entries ranges from one sentence to more than a page.

I plan one day to organize my book chronologically. But for now, I am preserving memories I would never have thought to include in my life story, and I have a journal of sorts as well.—Bernice Pratt, American Fork, Utah

ELDER L. Tom Perry relates this story about his family's memories:

Recently, I reached one of those time-dictated milestones in my life—the experience of a seventieth birthday. The family organized a birthday party and invited all of the immediate family to join in. My brother felt it was important enough to drive all the way from Seattle to be with us. Another one drove from Cache Valley. My sisters were already in Salt Lake, and they were the ones, along with my wife, who arranged the celebration.

There in the presence of those who mean the most to me, my family, I had a very enjoyable time. The evening was filled with stories and events which brought back a flood of memories. When the time arrived for the time-honored tradition of opening birthday gifts, my son came forward and said, “At last I’ve found just the right gift for you,” and he handed me a baseball bat with a white stocking over the end. My first reaction was, “A baseball bat at seventy years of age?”

I pulled off the white stocking, and then I understood why it was a perfect gift.

On the end of the bat was imprinted “Adirondack, Willie Mays’ Personal Model,” with the actual signature of Willie Mays.

This bat was a symbol of many great memories. I recalled a special birthday that had occurred thirty years earlier. We had just moved from California to New York. We had left our favorite baseball team, the San Francisco Giants, and Willie Mays, who was, of course, their star.

On this special birthday, Willie and the Giants were in New York playing the Mets. My son had saved his money and purchased two tickets as his birthday present to me that year. I came home from work early that day so we’d have time to make the long, traffic-filled drive to the Mets ballpark for the start of the game. We bought a hot dog, a Seven-Up, and a bag of popcorn and settled in our seats to watch Willie Mays beat the Mets. The game was tied at 4 to 4 at the end of nine innings. Willie’s record was four at-bats and zero hits. I said to my son, “We have a long drive home, and I have to get up early to catch the train into the city for a meeting.” His response was, “Willie won’t be up until next inning. Let’s watch him bat once more.”

The same response came after the eleventh, the twelfth, the thirteenth, and the fourteenth innings—and on up to the twenty-third inning. Now it was after midnight, and the drive home was well over an hour. Each time I suggested leaving, his response was, “Let’s watch Willie bat one more time.”

Then, in the first of the twenty-third inning, Willie came to bat and drove the ball over the centerfield fence. Of course, we finished watching the last of the twenty-third inning to be certain the Giants would win 5 to 4.

We arrived home at 2:30 A.M. I wasn’t at my best in the meetings the following day, but I had a lasting memory to cherish. Now a piece of wood, a baseball bat, stands in the corner of my office to remind me of a father-son relationship filled with so many great memories.