  MY bureau drawers,—I wonder what their contents could tell! Whenever I go through them with the firm resolve to clear out everything that I do not actually use, I always end by saving some things just for the sake of the memories connected with them. Take that pink satin hair ribbon, for instance. I wore it for the first time with a new pink dress at a party in California. It brings back all the thought of California as I first saw it in nineteen twenty, memories of stately and haughty poinsettias, of date palms from which one could pick and eat fresh dates, of a dancing ocean with its myriads of lovely sea creatures, and its gaily-colored beach equipment, of an amusement park with the roller coaster on which I nearly had heart failure. Then, in another corner, lies a string of green beads. What could better recall to my mind the night of my graduation from the grade school? The recollection makes me want to be in grade school once more. I well remember how one of my classmates forgot to bring the music to the class song which was to have been one of the attractions of the program. Disaster marked that evening farther when a tall Danish boy, looking the picture of selfconsciousness and misery, arose to give the farewell address. As nearly as I can remember, it ran thus: “Ladies and gentlemen, on the evening of our graduation ve vish to tank de teachers and also de principal for de vork”—a long awkward pause—“ve vish to tank de teachers and also de principal for de vork”—a still longer pause, interspersed with rising giggles from the graduating class—“Ladies and gentlemen, ve vish to tank de teachers and also de principal for de vork vich they have done in getting us trough.” Then, there at the back of the drawer, is a black satin sash. It brings to my mind an entirely different kind of memory. It is one thing that I have left from the dress I wore at my grandfather’s funeral. I remember all the tragedy of the occasion, lightened by one spot of comedy, my grandmother’s losing her petticoat. I dare say that some day I shall throw away these things that others consider rubbish, but I shall never part with the memories for which they stand. |
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