Because CynderBallz Pegged Me Perfectly in 1993, and I've Learned to Embrace the Eccentricity That I Roll With

I'm not sure how to describe yesterday, really, because it was bizarre all day long (not in a bad way, but in a good way). I worked on emails, grant reports, and editing in the morning - even took time to set up an eye appointment and to see my dermatologist about my psoriasis that has gotten out of control. Of course, they can't take me for another month. 

Then, at lunch, I noticed that Chitunga moved the bag of letters mom found in Cynde and Kc's room, that I collected during my four years at Binghamton. There were likely 100 letters in the bag and I couldn't help but dig in and feel joy about the way we used to communicate. Communication back then was more intimate. Soul-filled. Developed. Sincere. I had letters from all over the world and it was fun to think, "Oh, I remember these days." I'm still connected with everyone, even though its been years, so it was really entertaining to go through all the correspondence. 

In the collection, I also found a card from my older sister, Cynderballz, and I was sort of surprised because I didn't know she existed back then, let alone had a sense of humor. I didn't think she saw me as a human being until my late 20s, early 30s, so I was surprised to see she made me a card while I was away at college. The letters I used to send always had cut outs from magazines. Cynde did the same. She had several pages of male models that I'd never look like and then I turned to this page, which was her prediction of what I'd most likely end up looking like as an adult. She was pretty dang close, but I can't get a full beard and my love handles and man boobs are much larger (and harrier) than this dude's. Still, there is a close-to-scale look to her prediction and I have to hand it to her. This was the look she anticipated for me 25 years ago. 

Another great letter came from my mom. "I never called you a dick, Bryan. I never would do that. You said that you heard that I thought you were arrogant and quite the dick, but that never came out of my mouth." Captured all in letter form. Neither one of us have any memory for what that was about. The comedy is that mom is going through drawers at home, too, and having laughs at photos of yesteryear, memories, and historical tokens that make family ... family.

Phew. I also found a recommendation written by Dr. Carol Boyce Davies, who was my mentor at Binghamton University. It was a glowing, amazing letter, and I will cherish it forever. I contacted her to thank her and she said, "I want a copy of that. We didn't make copies when we used typewriters." So I sent it to her. I also showed her a thank-you I got from the Chair of the English Department for a letter I wrote for her. I asked, "Were you up for tenure in 1993?" She responded she wasn't...she was up for Full. And she got it! She thanked me for writing the letter that I did. I didn't even know what tenure and all that jazz was. Amazing to be where I am now and having those typed pages back in my hands.

There's no way I can read all the letters that were in the bag, but I did sort them and put them with all the letters I collected from my Louisville days. By the time I returned to Syracuse, and now in Connecticut, the epistolary tradition was almost non-existent. Wait. That's not true, necessarily. I received an email the other day that was like a letter (that I want to save forever)... that's another post.

Okay, Saturday. Back at it. For two hours I went through that bag, laughing, remembering, taking photos and sending to ol' friends, and somewhat sad that this generation is unlikely to ever know such traditions. Many of my friends were like, "I can't believe your mom saved those...."

I was like, "Trust me...it's not just my crap she's held on to."

It's beautiful and I am very thankful.