I ate Crackerjacks today and thought about my grandfather. He used to love them. Even though he was a skinny guy, he had a massive sweet tooth. Crackerjacks, Little Debbies, and moon pies were always in the house because of him. Every time I eat any of them, he always comes to mind.
It's strange what brings back our memories of people. Like Washington sings in Hamilton, you have no control over who lives or dies or tells your story. You can, however, have some control over the things that you show to people, the things they might remember about you.
As I've mentioned before, one of the things that frustrates me about my mother is how she threw so much of herself into men that she often didn't have a lot of opinions about things outside of them. I know her favorite authors and her favorite band. But as far as what she loved to snack on or other things that made her happy, I have no idea. In fact, even her favorite authors and favorite band didn't exactly fill her with happiness. Passion, yes, but happiness? No. In the end, a lot of the memories I have of my mother are about anything but her happiness.
I think it's important to impress on those around us, the younger ones who will tell our stories one day, that happiness IS an important component of life, a component that we pay attention to on a daily basis. I think it's important they see us having favorites, likes and dislikes, as this adds depth to the color of who we are. It also shows them how important it is to express the individual and the pursuit of the individual's happiness.
It doesn't just show how full of a person you are, it also encourage them to be a full person as well.
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