I’m not sure how the time capsule concept came to be. I guess I could Google it. But the notion of someone finding your message to the world decades later, after you’re dead and gone, is so romantic. It’s the classier version of writing on the bathroom wall “I was here! 9-22-09.”
It happened on Tuesday night. Mark and I were in the Little Red Shed at the McMenamin’s Edgefield Manor. Our favorite bar on the planet. This hobbit sized building that comfortably seats 10 once served as the incinerator when Edgefield was a Poor Farm. Sounds romantic, right? It gets better.
It was the first day of autumn, and a glorious Indian Summer night. Warm breeze blowing, very few people out – because it was a school night after all.
We were the only ones in the bar, except for Kendra – the bartender. She was adorable and so sweet and we got to chatting. Seems this was her last night at the Red Shed. She had been hired on as seasonal help and was notified that the season had come to an end. She’d been laid off. In a town with 14% unemployment. But she was quick to say it was all okay – she knew it was going to happen – and had another gig lined up already.
Then she pulled out this tiny old matchbox. She asked us if we wanted to contribute to her time capsule. Carefully she unwrapped and revealed the contents of this 1 by 2 inch treasure chest. A tiny drawing of the fireplace, a scroll that contained an autumn poem. A 2009 shiny penny. A bright red leaf from the tree outside. I stood there looking at all of these offerings and wondered how I could contribute. Then it came to me. I took off my pearl earring and placed it in the box. She said “Are you sure?” And I thought, am I sure? Oh hell yes.
She asked Mark if he would “do the honors” by placing it in the wall and sealing it up. She’d been working in that shed all summer and discovered a loose piece of mortar that this matchbox would perfectly slide into. And so it is done. Sealed up. Undetectable.
Seasons change to remind us that life has cycles. Birth and death and all the stuff in between are meant to teach us and challenge us and bring us joy. On this autumnal equinox Kendra shared her being there by including us, complete strangers, in her ceremony.
Many years ago I was going through big big change in my life. Divorce, a move and starting my own business all at the same time. That same year I had the opportunity to speak in Maui. The love-muffin-marriage-happy-couple-capitol-of-the-world. A place you should not go alone and lonely. Which is why it became the perfect place to get a tattoo.
The Chinese symbol for acceptance. Accept what life gives you. All of it. You can’t control many of the things that happen in your life – but you have complete control over how you react to it.
Thank you Kendra and God speed.
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September 25, 2009 at 5:02 am
Glenn Coble
You do understand… your blog IS a time capsul. That’s why I do mine, not so much for others but for me and my loved ones. Of course I haven’t given my blog address to my wife. I’ve given instructions to my eldest to pass it along upon my demise.
September 25, 2009 at 7:31 am
Nicolle
Your generosity with deeds and words is why we love you so much.
September 25, 2009 at 3:20 pm
Julee
This blog is just another example of why I feel so honored that you have picked my kid.
September 25, 2009 at 5:46 pm
Kelley Parks
Denise – loved this post – great food for the soul! Cheers to life’s changing seasons and finding some equinox between the lightness and darkness of its challenges.
September 26, 2009 at 9:20 am
Tom
I want to see a picture of the tatoo? Great post! As always, right on the mark. Just completed our HR/Marketing/Trainers Roundtable – James Robert rocked, but I am worn out. Rain all week-end. MSU playing LSU on TV – we are winning right now!
September 28, 2009 at 10:41 am
Credit Union Warrior/Matt Davis
Upon reading your post, I instantly thought of Shakespeare’s 146th sonnet. I honestly don’t know why…that poem’s about death and heaven. Nevertheless, I wondered if the pearl earring could be the “fading mansion,” and if the time capsule donation was your way of “buying terms divine”?
And if your tattoo was a Johnny Cash style middle finger to anyone (including yourself) or anything that dare try to harm your soul.
September 28, 2009 at 2:53 pm
Brent Dixon
I told this story like three times this weekend.
October 2, 2009 at 6:44 am
Cece
My absolute fave. Reading it from the downstairs desk in Cochiti makes it that much more special.
Normally I let Shawn make his own reading choices; this one is a requirement.