Another random tear -- January 17, 1995. I found notes from the plane ride home after our "honeymoon" trip to Exuma in the Bahamas. We were married in August of 1993 but it took 1 1/2 years to take a fun trip. My memories and our stories of that week focus on stolen diving gear, lost passports, bad weather, and a deserted and run down hotel. I was surprised to find journal notes full of love and bliss with hardly a mention of the challenges. It was another reminder that truth and reality are highly mutable and that the young are resilient.
The real gift, besides a reminder that the trip wasn't all gloom, was a short paragraph on the back page. Apparently (and I have little memory of this) we stopped off in Miami on the way back to Boston for a short visit with my grandmother. My notes reveal snippets of history: my Mayflower ancestor (Peregrine White from Wales) and my pacifist grandfather's opinions of war ("death, destruction, pointless").
This is one paragraph that stands in whole without redaction.
An inquiry into what we choose to reveal and hide from the past.