Currently I am working on my story for a book we are creating as a group in my publication design class. The theme that was assigned to us was about the things we keep, which is based on a book (listed below in case you’re interested) that discusses items people take with them and keep; items of value that usually have a personal meaning and are more intrinsically valuable than they are monetarily valuable. I started thinking about what I grabbed when Zach (my husband) and I thought we might not be able to go back to our home in Paradise, CA and this is what I have written so far as a first draft that I thought I would share. I will also continue to share my progress and ultimate book when it is ready. We will be using an online publisher to print, but other than their specifications we are pretty free to design the book how we see fit. It all begins with a story…

We knew we wouldn’t be able to take everything with us as my husband and I headed up an empty Skyway in our little Ford Focus under dark, threatening plumes of smoke. First thing first, we grabbed our two cats and our dog and loaded them up. The threat of fire in Paradise was encroaching closer and the high winds provided little relief for a moment’s thought. What to take? It was one of the first non-practical things I grabbed, hands shaking, voice yelling to Zach that we needed to hurry. If you live in California, chances are you’ve been in danger of fire as sad as that is. In 2018, a week after I was married, I knew I would risk a little moment of time to grab the only remaining piece of my papa that I had; a shadow box I made in his memory after he passed just one year earlier.

Now, this papa is my one and only papa. I didn’t have any other grandparents growing up besides my dad’s parents and words could never express how much they mean to me. My grandma is a saint among women and my papa was like a wise old owl – if owls were actually wise. I would spend countless hours growing up, sitting across from him in his armchair in his den, out in the garage at his workbench, or showing him my latest swimming tricks I had conjured up. You simply cannot help but love someone who listens to you talk, celebrates who you are, and treats you like an equal.

Looking at my box, you will notice a few things. First, you might notice the folded flag with a picture of us on it. That was the flag my Army Veteran papa hung up for me when I deployed overseas in 2015 with the Army National Guard. On the day I returned, he and I both took it down and I folded it as is customary when you retire a flag of the United States. You may have realized that perhaps my papa influenced me to join the Army and you would be correct. The photo on the flag was taken of us both at a Veteran’s Day parade celebrated in my hometown sometime after I returned home from Iraq. It is my favorite photo of us. Moving clockwise you will see one of my papa’s well-worn and favorite Army hats. On this hat you may also take notice of a few Army pins; the one to the left of the star is symbolic of those who were in the Signal Corps and states, “Pro Patria Vigilans”, which means Watchful for the Country and adorns a signal corps flag. That’s right, my papa Nolan Ray Young was a Staff Sergeant in the US Army Signal Corps and the amber pin to the right of the star is the logo for the US Army. Last on his hat, other than the couple strands of his hair, is what is called a ribbon or medal. These are awarded to soldiers for various things and are typically worn on your dress blues, or in my papa’s case as it would’ve been in his day – your dress greens. It is the Korean Defense Service Medal and the photo to the right of his hat was taken while he was deployed in Korea in 1961.

Behind my handsome, young papa there is a sign that says, “Danger High Voltage” and I loved to listen to him explain how he was awarded by a general for keeping the company generators going with such little downtime and how no one else had seen the likes of it before. He had a wonderful way of humble-bragging that seems to be a lost art form today. Next in my box, you will see his dog tags hanging. He gave those to me after I came back from basic training along with a pistol that his father carried when he served in the Army. Don’t worry, that was the very next thing I grabbed. He was so proud of me, I don’t know who between us was happier and I loved to compare my dog tags to his. The difference between them is that his had a puncture on one end where, if you died, they would wedge it between your teeth so they could identify you back home. Such is the morbid reality for soldiers and war. Last, I added a little stamp push-pin. I had to remind myself of the letters we wrote back and forth discussing my new knowledge of interior electrical and celebrating my promotion to E-5. The stamp also reminds me of the money used to purchase stamps that go to fund our military – or at least used to.

My shadow box is filled with the very essence of not only my papa but the connection we had during his life. That connection spurred me to want to serve, encouraged me to get out the words as I handed my grandma his folded flag at the cemetery which would be his final resting place. That connection showed me how to find joy in experimenting, taught me how to question everything, showed me how to listen and, how to be okay with change, how to move forward, how to forgive and be kind to others and to myself. When I couldn’t speak at his funeral while everyone was telling stories because I was shaking and no words could form, only salt in my eyes, I felt somehow I needed to do better. To honor my wonderful papa. This shadow box is my memorial to him and my reminder of everything he taught me and how special he will always be to me.

The inspiration book for our class project: