My Time Capsule (For Real)

Oh, friends! Are you ready to jump into your DeLorean and travel back in time with me to... wait for it....

1986?!?!?!?

Oh yeah! Turn off the A-Team, put on your stirrup pants and Hypercolor shirt, grab your Esprit bag, and Walk Like an Egyptian with me. You know what I'm talkin' about! And if you have no frame of reference for those things, then I weep for you.

Ever since I was little I've wanted to be an archaeologist. Specifically an Egyptologist, but I'm into anything ancient. The mystery, the untold stories, the danger and distant lands, combined with the mapped out, organized excavation sites speaks to my soul. I remember burying boxes of treasures (with notes to my future self, cool stones I found, jewelry, some pocket money, etc.) in my front yard. I swear I know the general location (right in front of the flowering cherry tree with the tire swing) and I promise you I've dug and dug and searched and searched, but I can't find it. Maybe archaeology isn't my calling after all if I can't find something I buried in my front yard one year later. I still suspect my brother of digging it up, but I can't prove anything... Tim!! I know you have it!!

The front of my can. Not sure why
there's a horrifying face made of
black paper on it... Note the comet
streaking across.

When my 5th grade teacher, Mrs. Johnson, told our class we were going to be making time capsules that we wouldn't open for 25 years you can imagine how excited I was! 1986 was the year Halley's Comet appeared. Which I saw! (Astronomy is also a love of mine and I wrote a very interesting (to me) paper in my college astronomy class about ancient astronomy!) Halley's Comet comes 'round every 75 years or so, but the reality of each 10/11 year old in the class holding on to a mod podged coffee can until 2061 was slim to nil. (As I've done a little facebook research with my old schoolmates, the reality of 10/11 year olds holding on to it for 25 years was also slim to nil.) The 25th anniversary (of the '86 appearance) would have to do! If you remember, there was another very memorable event that happened just a few months before we saw the comet in March. The Space Shuttle Challenger tragedy. Sad day. I remember watching it in class and the silence afterward.

Back to my can. The metal one, that is... The assignment was to write an essay and draw a picture of your family. We could put a few trinkets in but of course, I went a bit further, as I'm apt to do, and added several treasures and a mixed tape (yay!) We closed it all up and brought them home. Some kids buried theirs, and I'm not quite sure why I didn't, what with my penchant for buried things, and all. I've kept it all this time, and I'll be honest, I've peeked now and then. And added a few things. Some items say 1987. If you know me, then that doesn't surprise you. I could always make it better! Besides, 25 years is a loooong time to wait! What would I be like as a 36 year old? I could only imagine. Flying around in my car, giving my robot-maid (Rosie, of course!) jobs to do, then off to the dig site to uncover mass rad stuff like mummies. It was gonna be boss. Fer sure!

I was cleaning out a shelf in the closet a few days ago and saw it up there. Then I realized I'D MISSED THE 25th ANNIVERSARY GRAND CAN OPENING CEREMONY (hosted by yours truly). Come on, Amy! All these years I've held on and waited and two years ago I forgot to open it. Seriously. Sigh. Luckily, it's never too late to open historical treasure (just ask any REAL archaeologist!)

Here's some insight into my life as a 5th grader. Have a laugh at my 10 year old self!

My artistic interpretation of
Halley's Comet

A glimpse inside

The rest of my streaking
comet...

Oh friends! These are authentic paint-splattered
sunglasses from the '80s. I'm tempted to wear
them, but I think even my 4-year old would be
embarrassed by me.

Ok, now I know this is from '87, but I put it in
there because this was such a momentous
occasion for me! I actually still remember this
night - every detail!

A bookmark because I loved to read!

Um. Yeah. Cathy.
And why, as an 11 year old, did I feel this was the best poster to put in? The one where Cathy is swamped by housework and real work?
(The caption reads: I have it all... the worst of both worlds...)
Why not a cat hanging by a paw reminding me to "hang in there"?
I have no idea. No idea.

So, this was the assignment from Mrs. Johnson. Write about yourself and this year. Here is my paper. I'll print it out word for 5th-grade word and add some insight in the bold highlights:




I like this year a lot. I had a nice teacher (brownie points!) and we had fun. Althow I didn't do good in spelling (obviously) I did good in some subjects like reading and math. This year was exciting, the Challenger (spaceshuttle) with astronouts (8 of them) blew up as taking of. (I can only assume I meant off - really, Amy? Trouble spelling off?!) None lived. (Just call me Miss. Sensitivity.) Another instring thing is that Halleys Comet reapeared and I saw it! It looked like a big snow flury. We saw it through our telescope. (It was awesome!) All this year I made new friends and had fun. Alltogether this year I think I had about 22 hours of homework (Uh, must not have used much of that on spelling work) but that's ok because some of it is fun. (Like making a time capsule!!) I hope 6th grade will be as nice. (It wasn't too bad.) Amy Stevens


Here are pictures (not accurate, thank the Lord!) and descriptions (pretty accurate!) of my family.

Amy: is my name. I have short blond hair and blue eyes. I also have glasses. The thing I like that I do in band when I play the flute. I think I am very kind.

Katie: is my sister. She has brown hair and blue eyes. She is about 16 months old. She is very loveing and gives us big hugs. She is very smart she copies us and makes it look funny. My favorit thing about her is her little hands and feet. When she laughs it is so funny. (Still is!) 

Lynne: is my mom. She has brown-yellow hair, blue eyes and has contacts. She is very loveing and careing. She is 33 years old. (Crazy that when I wrote this my mom was 5 years younger than I am now!) What I like best about her is that she takes care of us.


Ron: is my dad. He has brown hair and blue eyes. He takes care of us and is very nice. He is 33 years old. What I like best about him is he gives us a lot of things and loves us like anything.

Timothy: is my brother. He has blond hair and blue eyes. He is kind sometimes. He is 7 years old. What I like best about him is when you are sad he tryes to make you happy. (This is very true!)

Here are some fun facts about me. Updated/corrected by me in pink pen a few months later... Notice I went back and fixed my favorite subject. What was I thinking originally?! I was not taking this a seriously as I should. (Says my several months older self.)

Favorite color: pastel aqua. Because regular aqua won't do... And I just realized I spelled favorite completely wrong on EACH of the lines! Favroite? Really, Amy?! I think I was too caught up in trying to make a cool looking letter A. I'll let you browse through instead of writing it all out.

Now, these were my favorite songs, and most of them (plus a lot more!) are on my mixed tape. But I guess I had to throw Greensleeves in there because... well... I do like it. By the way all of those "best friends" I STILL keep in touch with!! How awesome is that?!

For those of you who don't know what this is (like my 6-year old who thought it was a camera and tried to look through the two holes to take a picture. Sad, sad day.) THIS is a mixed tape. You would sit by your awesome boom box with your cassette in it and have it paused on record. When your favorite (or in my case, favroite) song came on, you'd take the pause off and it would record. Download, schmownload. I still hear songs today where I can hear the DJ's voice over the end of the song in my head. Good times. I remember every New Year's Eve sitting with my friend, Sarah, in her room, with our boom box poised and ready to record any of the top 100 songs of the year in Casey Kasem's countdown.

Some random erasers (I DID make a lot of mistakes) and a barrette? Ok...

The last item in here is a scrap of my comfort blankie. Notice the giant heart written on it. I had this blankie since I was an infant and it kept getting cut smaller and smaller because I would rub it between my fingers and it would shred. Wrapping it up and putting it in the time capsule was the best thing I could have done to preserve it! Yes, I know I was 10 years old. Whatever. I was excited to pull this out of the can! Both of my girls have comfort blankie issues, like me. Deal with it.

This is my ticket to Disneyland the one and only time I've ever been! It was awesome, except for the part where the Haunted House broke down in the middle of our ride and we were stuck inside for at least 15 minutes. Maybe that's why I can't handle any scary movies. Traumatized in the happiest place on earth.


So, there you have it. A trip back in time, with me baring my soul in all it's misspelled, blankie lovin', Greensleeves singin', glasses wearin' glory.

Almost A Dream Squasher

Hey. Remember me? Apparently my blogging brilliance (HA!) fizzled out quickly, like a lot of things I commit to in life. Oh, whatever! Don't pretend you don't do the same thing now and then! I guess when things really hit me, I'll share about them. There aren't enough hours in the day to write all the time, what with kids, husband, cooking, cleaning (again, ha!), and Bejeweled Blitz to contend with my time. You get it, right?

Anyway, on to this post. This is an important one for me because it taught me a lot about myself - most of it not good, about my daughter (Adventure Girl) - all of it wonderful, and about humanity in general, but specifically on my cul de sac - again, all of it wonderful. We live on the best street ever.

Adventure Girl (if you have no idea whom I'm referring to, read back a few blog posts - you won't regret it! I hope...) has been telling me for several months that she wants to help "poor people." Now, I'm gonna be brutally honest here. You ready? You sure? Deep breath. Read this fast because it's painful: I wanted to brush her off and I hoped she'd forget about it. There. I said it. I'm a bad person. At this point in life I don't have a burning heart for social justice. I don't really want to work in the homeless community and move beyond my selfish, comfortable existence. It scares me. I'm a little socially awkward and, honestly, I can't think of things to say to my friends sometimes, let alone people that I can't relate to. I pray this changes for me. I want to reach out and love and share and give. I really do.

So, when AG told me she wanted to help poor people my first thought was, "Where do I even park to go under the bridge downtown?!" My second was, "Quick, distract her with cartoons! Ice cream! Park outing!" I'm honestly ashamed to admit that I didn't say, "Awesome! Let's do it!" I'm honestly ashamed to admit that I hoped she'd forget about it. She didn't. I'm glad.

She kept telling people that she was going to make necklaces to help poor people! She kept asking me if we could go buy beads! Now, she loves crafts but, like me, doesn't stick with things for too long. She did this time. She spent a whole afternoon stringing beads on this plastic "string" that never seems to make a tight knot no matter how much I pulled on it. She "accidentally" broke several other fancy bracelets so she could add cool beads to those she was making. She had three items and asked me to walk with her around the neighborhood to see if people would buy them. Wait, what?! This was getting serious. Seeing those poor Girl Scouts begging people to buy their cookies makes me anxious. I didn't want to be one of those pleading parents hoping others would have mercy on their kid. At least they were selling cookies! My kid had plastic beaded necklaces that kept coming apart and were too small to fit over a grownup's head! Sheesh.

She was so excited that I said, "Ok, let's go." We went to the first house and I stood back and let her do her thing. "I'm selling necklaces and bracelets to help poor people. Would you like to buy one?" (I was giving my best "Sorry! Just humor her, ok?" look from a few steps down. How lame am I?!) Our first "customer" bought everything she had and gave her $9 for it. Seriously?! I was expecting 50 cents. Tops. Her (my) confidence was growing, but she needed to make more jewelry. Back home we went and she started beading again. Then Monster Me (again, look back if you haven't yet!) dumped ALL 400 beads on the bedroom floor and refused to help clean up. In fact, the madder she got about cleaning the more scattered the beads got. I'm not kidding, some of them are a 1/4" across and clear. Who makes these things?! Obviously people who don't have a four-year old whose nickname includes the word Monster. Took almost two hours and most of my patience to get it cleaned up. Don't worry, MM helped but it's wasn't pretty. It wasn't pretty.

Next day we hit the pavement again and she sold out again. What generous, kind neighbors we have! Trish, Renee', Chris, Linda, Ruth: you guys are awesome! Adventure Girl raised $50 (including some of her own hard-earned money she put in) to donate to "poor people"!

We decided the best way to do this was to go shopping and fill up the food closet at our church, Bethany Baptist, which is open to the community and those in our church family who need some help. This was a local place she could give to and see her heart at work. I found out what they were short on and gave AG the list, which she carefully copied onto her own pink paper. For two days she kept saying how excited she was to go shopping, as she squealed and jumped up and down. The day arrived and we went to Winco and filled our cart with peanut butter, rice, noodles, and tuna fish. She was so excited to count out her dollars and hand them to the checker. I was so excited to see her like that. She's not a proud kid, she wasn't proclaiming how awesome she is or anything like that. It wasn't to bring attention to herself.

I learned a valuable lesson. I can't believe that I started to discourage her from doing such a bold, loving thing. I guess I'm jaded by the world, living in my own fear, insecurity and inexperience. I want to change. I want to teach my girls the joy of helping others, of sharing their lives - it's not a one way street. The more they give, the more they get. She's a little disappointed that SHE isn't the one handing out her items to those in need. I think maybe some hands-on experience is in our future. Maybe we'll see you under the bridge. Whoa, whoa, whoa... let's not get ahead of ourselves! Maybe we'll see you at the Mission on Thanksgiving. She'll be the one making friends, making a difference and pushing me out of my comfort zone.

"Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with 

actions and in truth." 

1 John 3:18