Sunday, February 21, 2016


I saw this card in Portland Oregon a while back.

I bought it because it meant something to me.

Susan and I are three quarters of the way through the most painful part of the moving preparation. Triage through family photos, family papers, and the flotsam that naturally accumulates in dressers, night stands, junk drawers, the recesses of cabinets, closets, old briefcases, cardboard boxes, and the other infrequently visited dark recesses of the house.

I'm talking about stuff that I stuck in an old curio box my Dad made as an experiment when he started messing with fancy wood inlays (keep the box), like the piece of paper that in my mind is our dog's death warrant that I signed when our response to her sudden catastrophic illness was euthanasia (destroy, while crying fresh tears all over again).

Susan did the photos, I tackled the paper. Neither task is easy. They tug at your heart, they yield lumps in your throat, make your eyes burn. It's the passage of time. Births, deaths, weddings, kids who are no longer little ones, parents who look younger than we are who are no longer with us. The list goes on, and on, and on. A necessary evil.

I'll spare you more of this difficult challenge. Susan and I are not special, each of you reading this has similar recesses that await you some day.

Back to this card, because it's not by any means painful. In fact, having scanned it to post here, it's headed into the recycling bin. One less piece of flotsam, one more step in the right direction.

It is, as the trite saying goes, the thought that counts in this case.

I think that the saying, that the card attributes to George Addair, holds a fair amount of truth. In fact, if I had had that thought in my mind when I was facing the airport challenges on Friday, I might have boarded that flight, and I'd be writing this in the company of Ken Wilson in his home in St. Petersburg, reflecting not on the pain of what to shred and what to keep, but on the exhilaration of two wonderful days of moto adventure and camaraderie.

I decided to share this with you, because while many of you defy your fears and reap the benefits, all of us could stand to leap over that threshold where fear seeks to bar entry more often.


redlegsrides said...

It's funny what will trigger a memory or an emotion isn't it?

David Masse said...

Getting rid of stuff can be difficult Dom, it sure can.

Anonymous said...

David, it's fear that keeps me on my 50cc scooter rather than on the motorcycle or more powerful scooter that I would learn to ride if only I wasn't afraid.

By the way, you're a terrific writer. Plus you were a big help when I was preparing to get my scooter, one of the happiest decisions of my life! I'm still here, reading you and counting the days until I can hop back on again!


Trobairitz said...

Brad always has to remind me....... "What would you do if you weren't scared?"

David Masse said...

Danielle, those are very kind words.

You'll see in time that what you once thought was too tall, too big, can be managed. Stephanie Yue considers herself short and she handles her Vespa GTS just fine.

David Masse said...

Then again Brandy, wing suit flying should be avoided at all costs, not matter how scared you don't want to be.

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