On a summer day, as I stood on an overlook at the Pennsylvania Grand Canyon with my family, I watched a dragonfly fluttering around us and then into the gorge.
If I close my eyes I can picture it. The green of the trees stretching miles in every direction. The warmth of the summer breeze. The chatter of small children, curious as to why their families had made them come to see a big valley, but determined to have fun anyway.
We stopped at a roadside picnic area and had lunch. This is one of the treasured memories I have with my daughter.
I don’t know if she remembers it, or could draw it to mind if I were to describe it.
But the older I get, the more I realize that moments like this are what makes a good life.
I saw recently the results of a study — I can’t remember the who or the why, but I remember what it was about. It said you will get greater benefit from spending money on experiences than you would on material things.
That really got me to thinking. Years ago, we took a vacation to Vermont in the summertime. So many people asked why we would go to ski country in the summer. It was one of the best vacations I can remember.
We didn’t have an agenda, we didn’t have reservations at restaurants. We got up, looked at a guide book and went where we fancied. We saw the Ben & Jerry’s factory, the Shelburne Museum with incredible works of art by internationally acclaimed artists. We went to a roadside attraction in New Hampshire — just to say we’d been to the state — and had a wonderful time.
We didn’t see a moose, though. Maybe next time.
Thinking back on my treasured memories makes me wonder about all the stories people have to tell.
One of my tasks at The Era is to process obituaries for print. Often, they are straightforward, listing major accomplishments or long lists of family members.
Years ago, as I was processing an obituary for an acquaintance, I saw that he had been a pilot of a blimp. I never knew that. How fascinating. I wish I had had the chance to ask him about it.
There is a thing called Human Libraries where, instead of a book, you can “borrow” a person and hear their story.
Kate Day Sager and I were recently talking about covering an event at Floyd C. Fretz Middle School many years ago when Holocaust survivor Joe Diamond spoke. She and I both remember it clearly. His story was horrifying, but so important.
Students who may have learned about the Holocaust from a history book were hearing first hand its devastation. And suddenly, it became real for them.
Sure, there were childish and somewhat impudent comments and questions, but I would guess most of those students remember Mr. Diamond clearly.
Hearing about 6 million people massacred is one thing. Meeting a survivor and hearing his story put a face to the devastation, bringing it a clarity and understanding that a history book can’t give, that is priceless.
Hearing a veteran talk about the bitter, numbing cold of the Belgian countryside during the Battle of the Bulge, and wearing every piece of clothing he had in an attempt to stay warm makes the setting a little more real.
“The wool uniforms were itchy,” I remember one veteran telling students at an elementary school. That’s something those children understood.
The human experience is different for each person. And in every case, is fascinating.
Listen. Learn. Understand a little more about fellow humans.
Perhaps with understanding will come kindness, tolerance and empathy. The world could use more of all three.
(Schellhammer is the Era’s associate editor. She can be reached at marcie@bradfordera.com)
