Keys, to things past.

Last night my entire immediate family had the good fortune of being together. We were all talking about “old times”. My daughter Dannielle asked if I was in any serious relationships before marrying their mom. When I said I had been engaged once before, Dannielle was quite startled. I don’t think this is unusual, for some reason few of us ever think of our parents as having had a life outside of “us”. Anyway, one thing led to another and eventually my wife mentioned how I still had a necklace that my first fiancé had given me. {Which is somewhat of a stretch of the truth as she is the one who actually had the necklace :)}. She then went on to mention how the necklace was engraved with “Charlie”. I asserted that is was not as I never allowed her to call me that. My wife promptly went to get the necklace in order to prove me wrong.

Indeed I don’t allow anyone to call me anything except my name, which is Charles, and this includes my wife, which is probably why she seemed a bit irritated as she went upstairs to fetch the offending piece of jewelry. My daughters all noticed this. They mistook it for jealousy, a misconception I actively encouraged until I heard my wife coming back down the stairs. Yes, I enjoy mischief as much as any three year old and I apologize for it as seldom as they do 🙂

As is often the case it turned out my wife was correct, however the strangest thing was that even when I looked at the necklace I still read it as “Charles”, right up until I really examined it closely under good light.

As I haven’t worn the necklace in over thirty-five years I said any of my daughters who wanted it could have it. Julia immediately claimed it, after which Dannielle said, “But what if I also want it?” To which I replied, “Then you two can share it.” Dannielle then responded, “No, what I really want are your dog tags.” To which my wife asked, “Which ones? Dad has two sets.”

This prompted a flood of further memories.  I agreed, “Yes, the first set was issued to me on my conscription, and it has the number 124041. The second set was issued when I was commissioned, and it has the number V4051”. At this my third daughter, Tamryn, butt in, “Well if you have two sets then I want one of them.” So Dannielle got one set.  According to Dannielle, she got the real set as I had used them while on I served on active duty. Dannielle kept asking what they had been laminated with. I don’t know why Dannielle had so much trouble understanding that the so-called laminate was the results of 3 years of sweat imbuing them and the parachute cord from which they were suspended 🙂

In case anyone is interested enough to question why there are two tags, one is highly resistant to acid and the other is highly resistant to fire – no, I don’t recall which is which.

strange memories, of irrelevant things that make us wonder... why?

My Rhodesian Army Dog Tags.

So what was this post really about? Well, I entered National Service in the Rhodesian Army in 1978. My basic training lasted six months, yet somehow I still remember my conscription number. I don’t remember how the symbol of a passed love, from the past, had been inscribed with a name I will not tolerate anyone using to address me, and perhaps might even be the cause of that particular element of me. I don’t remember what the strange little symbol vaguely indicative of a Bactrian camel on that chain represents.  Of all the important things I could remember, why did my brain retain two utterly irrelevant numbers?  Why do I specifically remember striking the zero into that tag twice?  Why do I remember the feeling of resentment that they made me scribe a religion?  Why do the memories I so badly want elude me, yet memories I don’t need, remain? Twisted…

Oh, I did place a condition on both Tamryn and Dannielle, which I didn’t place on Julia. I told them that under no circumstances are they allowed to give away or dispose of the dog tags. After all the excitement settled down my wife admitted she was quite irritated with me. She is sure our girls will just take them off and discard them, I am not, but if they do I don’t really know that I’ll care…

Strange how we hold onto some things that really have no value other than the memories they embody isn’t it? In this case I didn’t hold onto any of those things, but my loving wife did so for me. However, and this is the real point of this largely pointless post, there is a loss from way back then which I deeply regret.

The loss I mourn most, is that of my personal poetry book, it held thoughts I cannot recapture, from an era that will never return.

Somehow, somewhere, I misplaced that little black book, along with all the poems I had transcribed therein.

Those are the things I miss the most, the memories I’ve lost.  Things, those we can replace, thoughts and the memories they make, those we cannot.

About C.G.Ayling

Musing misuser of words, lover of lyrical literature, author, occasional contrary thoughts. An honorable man’s name, in memoriam.
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6 Responses to Keys, to things past.

  1. Lucinda says:

    Charles. It’s nice that our daughters learned something new about you before you passed on. There are things I wish I’d known about my father, but now he’s gone and I can’t ask him. I think family relationships are always a good thing to post about.

    • C.G.Ayling says:

      Yet the typo is so true. Though those daughters are mine, they are also the worlds.

      Would we not treat all children better if we realized that every one of them belongs to every one of us?

  2. Lucinda says:

    Opps, I meant your daughters. Must learn to proof read better before posting.

  3. katie salers says:

    I loved reading this. It was very personal and it made me happy to know more about you and your family. I have a small box that I use, to keep everything that hold hold my memories. I’ll have to go through it again. 🙂

    • C.G.Ayling says:

      Do you find, when rummaging through the things that evoke your memories, that the ones that make you the saddest, are also the most precious?

    • Katie says:

      I do find that the objects that remind me of sad times are more special than the ones that bring my happy memories. Maybe it is because I remember where I was in that time and looking back I can see how far I have come and how I was able to either adapt to a life change or overcome an obstacle. It is nice to be reminded on where we were and how we made it through life altering ordeals.

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