A while back, my cousin met me briefly on the way to somewhere else and she gave me a box full cassette tapes, most of which I had made for her decades ago. I took them out several times and looked at the titles and the colored labels that I made back in the day. It brought back a tremendous number of memories for me. Both for the music and the way I had shared it with people. Making cassettes and VCR tapes was one of the ways I helped my mom keep her sanity. Even when she was being argumentative and impossible, the movies, music, and music videos I shared with her kept us connected.

It had been my intention to take them to work and listen to them using an old stereo with a cassette deck. I still have most of the music digitally. Except for perhaps the Looney Toons Christmas music. I put the box in my trunk yesterday.

I’m glad I forgot to take them inside.

When I went to wade the creek today, I followed yesterday’s pattern and went somewhere different. I parked in the apartments near the Agri perimeter. I walked across the wide expanse of lawn, crossed the trail, and walked a different section of the creek. On the way out, I climbed the beautiful tree near the apartments. Most people passing through that section of the trail have noticed the huge trunks that extend horizontally to the ground before pushing back upward. I climbed higher than I should, but I just muttered to myself, “Time is short,” and went up anyway. It was beautiful and the breeze was refreshing.

When I got out of the tree, though I was barefoot, I walked along the protective cyclone fence next to the apartments. A man was sitting outside his apartment listening to music. I don’t know why I approached him. The offer of the box of cassettes in my trunk passed from my lips. He laughed. He said, “Yes, of course! I will give anything a listen.” We talked for a minute and I asked him to wait so that I could walk back to my car and retrieve the box. When I returned, he flipped open the box and smiled. He noted that I had individually decorated and indexed each cassette.

Luckily, he did not pull out very many cassettes. When I went to the car, I put a $20 bill under the cassettes. I also wrote a very short note on one of my infamous index cards: “Thanks for appreciating a returned piece of my past.” I don’t know what he might make of it. But I could tell by the look on his face from just seeing how I had decorated the tapes that he knew it had been a huge part of my life at one point.

It took a long series of coincidences for me to have the box at the perfect time and place. And to find someone who was obviously interested in giving them new life. I owe it in part to deciding to visit new places along the creek. And to my cousin for returning them to me.

Love, X
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