Saltines and sardines

 Way back in the dark ages, I remember finding a tin of sardines in the cupboard. I don’t remember exactly when, but I’m pretty sure I knew at the time I was looking at a dad relic.

These are things that eventually disappeared over time. Only now, almost 50 years later, I’m remembering what he liked. And the memories are often random; I could make a list of the things, but that would lose the ‘how’ and maybe even the ‘why.’

Sardines lately have meant a portable meal, and I realize they aren’t for everyone. I packed several tins plus some fruit and microwaveable Indian food for my weekend up at Hawk Mountain. One rainy day kept us indoors and eating lunch at our desks, and the guy half of an older couple taking the course kept razzing me about my sardines. No idea why, except maybe he thought it was cool to loudly mock my lunch.

I didn’t care; I put him on ignore and so did everyone else.

It took one of my sorties last month to the job site to gel the sardine connection. I was in my hotel room feeling sorry for myself and preparing my dinner. I remembered the saltines I had saved from a meal out with soup and added those to the sardines…

…and suddenly I remembered this combination from way, way back, memories that lack the visual but have all the other senses, things that connect me back to My Person. I smiled before I drank my Belgium ale, thinking My Person would have gone for PBR in a frosty mug.

And suddenly a lot of the stuff I enjoy that most people would find weird makes sense. This is my wiring. And I find new ways to connect.