The Value Of A Memory

My family had some odd habits when I was growing up. One of the more particularly odd habits of my father was that electricity wasn't permitted in my home on Sundays. No television. No telephone. No stereos. We would gather in the living room or at the dining room table after church and we would play games, tell stories or record cassette tapes to send to the family members that were scattered across the United States. I was a child and thought my father's idea was absolutely stupid. Why in the world couldn't we just be like any other normal family and gather around the television every evening? That we didn't own a television, an action that was taken by my father as a means of discipline, during that period of time further fueled my desire to not be a part of the family gathering. Just as I look back and remember that feeling of "my family is sooooo weird", I can't help but smile at the warm memory of my family gathered around a bulky cassette recorder, before time and circumstances separated we five. It was fun in its purest form. I'm sure the cassette tapes have long been discarded, but the memory will play in my mind forever.

There is another thing I could always count on as a child, and that was my family was taking a vacation. One particular year we were treated to Sea World in Orlando, Florida. It would be a day that I have yet to forget, the details as fresh in my mind today as the moment it happened.

If you have ever been to Florida during the summer months, you would know that it is oppressively hot. You would also know that at least one time per day the skies would become angry, filling the air with sounds of thunder and blinding your eyes with brilliant flashes of lighting. Moments later, the rain would come, and for a blessed moment the oppressively hot air would momentarily become breathable as the land around you cooled down. The reprieve was always brief as the subsequent steam from the cool rain touching the hot ground always made it feel like a sauna.

The five of us consisted of myself, my baby sister (Tyan), and baby brother (James), my mother (Pat) and my wheelchair-bound father (Doug). We had just made it through the shark tunnel and was making our way towards the hands-on area inside the Sea World Park when chaos erupted. A surprise storm was on top of us and throngs of people not used to the daily Florida storms were absolutely panicked. Screams could barely be heard above the deluge of rain that came seemingly out of nowhere and with no warning. Parents were frantically reaching for their children and pulling them into the open doors of the little shops situated throughout the campus of Sea World or huddling together under the slightest overhang that could be found. The screams of the parents had most of the children freaking out and everyone was running from the storm. Everyone, that is, except the five of us. The moment the rain started, it was entirely too late to get out of its way. The rain was so intense, it seemed a bucket had simply been dumped on the campus of Sea World, soaking everything in its path and flooding the walkways about ankle deep in a matter of seconds. While everyone else ran, we walked, danced and strolled our way to the hands on area of the park. We had never laughed so hard together as a family, and we have never matched it since.

That was a moment with my family that I had no idea would help mold the person I am today. That moment stands out for everyone in my family, and it probably means something different to each of them, but what that moment taught me was sometimes the rain is going to come but it shouldn't stop the party. In fact, sometimes the rain is all we need to make a situation perfection. Especially when we take ourselves too seriously. Sometimes we are going to stumble and fall. It's life and it is guaranteed to happen to every person that will ever live upon this earth. We can choose to cry over our clothes getting wet, go huddle in a doorway to complain and wait for the storm to pass. That's perfect for some people, but in that moment we figured our clothes were soaked and there was no sense in attempting to huddle among the people while the rain cleared. Instead, my family took the time while the walkways were clear to laugh, joke and dance our way to our next memory. It is only when I recalled the memory later in life that I realized we five weren't dancing in spite of the rain, we were dancing BECAUSE of it.

One of my most favored memories also taught me my biggest life lesson:

When it's all askew, change your view!