JANUARY 7 • 2021 | 7

for openers

Here’s to the
Memories
I

’m at a total loss to
describe the pure,
unmitigated joy I felt,
I’m sure you all felt, when
the clock struck midnight
on Dec. 31 and
you finally said
goodbye to
2020.
Perhaps you
kissed a loved
one, clanked
glasses over a
toast or shared
a few expletives to say good
riddance to arguably the
worst year in our lifetime —
on so many levels.
I’m proud to announce
I’ve started the new year
having shed several pounds.
Actually, I’ve shredded several
pounds. I finally caved and
went through file boxes of
decades old paperwork.
After much consternation, I
finally realized there was no
reasonable excuse to hold on
to a 10-year-old AT&T bill.
My kids marvel at my
collection of old paperwork.
They’re of a generation
that barely knows what an
“8½ x 11” piece of paper
is. Everything they save is
digital. In cyberspace, you
don’t need a shredder, just a
delete button. And I’m not
good at using that either.
Despite having converted
to paperless billing, I can’t
bring myself to deleting
email bills I receive from
Comcast, Consumers
Power, Verizon, etc. And

what would my morning
be without yet another
sales pitch email from
Kohl’s? (I’m losing faith
that the Unsubscribe button
works.) Add the daily email
correspondences I receive
and as of this writing my
Gmail account is home to
literally 38,538 emails.
Ironically, the oldest email in
the bunch is from New Year’s
Eve 2009; a correspondence
to our Dick Purtan morning
radio show intern at the time.
Discovering that, I literally
paused during the writing of
this column to email “Steve” to
see how he was doing 11 years
later. It’s been several hours and
still no word back from him yet.
Darn, and we were so close.
Next on my purging agenda
will be my personal time
capsules, the numerous boxes
of personal memorabilia I
haven’t looked at in years.
A preliminary peek inside
one box has already revealed
some real gems.
There’s the handmade,
crayon-written Mother’s Day
card dated May 14, 1961,
which I signed, not just from
“Alan” but from “Alan M.”
Apparently, I felt the need to
distinguish myself from the
other Alans my mom must
have known.
Just found a card from
1961 that informed my
parents I had officially been
promoted from kindergarten
to first grade at Bagley
Elementary School in

Detroit. Three second
grade report cards
revealed I missed
12 days of school in
each of the first two
semesters of 1962.
Apparently, my
hypochondria kicked
in at an earlier age
than I thought.
A handwritten
letter from my mom
dated September
1973, my first
semester at Michigan State,
written on store-bought
stationery called Notes from
a Jewish Mother, repeated her
longstanding Yiddishe mama
mantra of making sure “I
washed off fruit before
eating it.” My mother could
never have imagined that a
pandemic would ensure my
washing off everything that
came into my house.
Mom also asked if I had
remembered to “wear your
thongs” in the shower I
shared with my dorm suite
mates. For the uniformed,
“thongs” is what my mom
referred to as the footwear
she implored us kids to wear
in shared bathing situations.
Perhaps more commonly
referred to as flip-flops.
Anyway, I needed to clarify
that in case you thought
my “thongs” came from
Victoria’s Secret.

Next up, tackling my
boxes of years’ worth of
personal sports mementos.
I’m excited to see if I still
have the sample of turf I dug
up from the Tiger Stadium
infield after we defeated
Boston on Oct. 3 to capture
the American League East
Championship. Better that
I find it before my kids. I
don’t want them to think
their dad’s been hiding a bag
of grass in the basement.
In the meantime, here’s hoping
years from now all our boxes
of memorabilia will contain the
following cherished souvenir
— the document confirming
we got vaccinated from the
COVID virus. That’s a keeper.
Happy, healthy New Year.

Alan Muskovitz is a writer, voice-over/

acting talent, speaker, and emcee. Visit

his website at laughwithbigal.com,“Like”

Al on Facebook and reach him at

amuskovitz@renmedia.us.

Alan

Muskovitz

semester at Michigan State,
Next up, tackling my

PHOTOS COURTESY ALAN MUSKOVITZ

VIEWS