In English, the word "souvenier" has come to mean some cheap trinket you buy from a tourist trap on vacation. Normally, contrary to their purpose, we take them home and quickly throw our souveniers--whether they be snowglobes or dried starfish--into a junk drawer and forget about them until the next yard sale.
Like many words in English, this curiously non-Anglo-Saxon word is derived from the French. The infinitive "souvenir," in the French language translates to the broader notion "to remember." It can also have a much deeper, often nostalgic meaning, such as in its use on license plates in Canada's Province of Quebec: "Je me souviens." (I remember my past.)
I know that many of you remember me most for my very familial "Grandpa Harold Diaries" that I wrote during the election about my Grandparents, Harold and Virginia and their memories of the Great Depression, their struggles with issues of race, and their acceptance and support of Barack Obama.
I hope you'll accept this update as a souvenir of another time. A time when we were all so united and filled with anticipation; the young, the impoverished, the dreamers, and even the old people.
Many of you found the "Grandpa Harold Diaries" very inspirational for the political message of hope and acceptance. But, on a more human level, it was your comments to these diaries that meant the world to my dear octogenerian grandparents. They know nothing about the internet or computers. For them, it is a part of a world that they simply do not choose to even try to understand. The pace of change in the world has left them behind.
Like people from another time, they feel as if they no longer have anything to offer the world anymore. The Hoover Vacuum cleaner company where my grandfather forged metal vacuums has long since closed and moved to Mexico. Now, these two people, wrinkled by time and slowed by old bones and organs, sit in their chairs, grandpa pretending to read the newspaper and grandma knitting another woolen "afghan." They both gather dust...like their souveniers from Yuma, AZ, Ft. Lauderdale, FL, and Elko, NV.
All they knew was that suddenly people cared about them.
So many of you sent postcards to my grandparents. Indeed, they received almost 1,000 postcards and other letters. They also got flowers, cookies, refrigerator magnets and photographs. Because of all the mail they got on a first name basis with the mail carrier, who was invited in to read all the mail. (As was every guest to their humble home, to the detriment of the McCain supporters). The cards were from all over the world--Italy, Japan, and even Moscow! Many of them were touching missives. Some were funny and others simply read, "Thank you."
Not a single one of them was in the least bit rude or negative. I know, because I read them all. I was able to do so because a kind stranger sent my grandparents a check so that I could go visit them in Ohio. I did just that, but I used the money to buy water and other supplies for volunteers working on the Obama campaign in Canton, Ohio.
They may feel as if they have nothing to offer, but Grandpa still always has a fresh tomato, cucumber, or bowl of strawberries from his garden and Grandma still has a glass of ice tea and some zuchinni bread for any person who knocks on the door. And, for that special moment in their lives, thanks to you, the cobwebs were brushed aside and they felt that their wisdom and memories still made them valuable human beings.
As an update, both Harold and Virgina are doing fine. They recently suffered the loss of one of their daughters, my beloved Aunt Nancy, a talanted pastery chef and cake decorator. The both still believe Obama cares and is doing his best under horredous conditions. Overall, they don't really delve into the subtleties issues like many here do.
Maybe we all sometimes miss the forest for the trees.
Nevertheless, this is not a political diary. It is a "souvenier," a rememberance to let you know that they remember you and hope that you remember them and a message of renewed hope for America from two people who survived even worse times.
If you have a moment in your busy day, send them a postcard to let them know how you're doing. They will be thrilled.
(If you need the address, write me at doggonewild@live.ca and I will give it to you.)
Again, Thank you from the bottom of my heart for showing sincere kindnes to complete strangers. I do believe that is one of the most endearing attributes of Americans.