by Jan Smith
Have you ever noticed how a seemingly ordinary day can suddenly become memorable? Often you don’t recognize those days until after they’ve happened. You look back and think, “Because that happened, this is a day I’ll always remember.”
When I became aware of that “after-the-fact” aspect years ago, I decided to try to recognize “in the moment” when anÂ ordinary day was about to become a day I would always remember.
One such memorable day was a joyful event: Thursday, March 3, 1983. TheÂ moment of recognition came early that morning. I was preparing to leave for work, and was also scheduled to teach a session in my popular “How To Improve Your Color Photography” class that evening.
I recall being in the basement making a quick inventory of materials and equipment for my evening class when my very pregnant wife, Joanne, called from the top of the stairs. “You’d better call your work”, she announced, “we’re going to the hospital today! In that moment, I knew: this was about to be one of those days.
That evening, I was present in the operating room to hear a nurse call out the time, “9:26!” Our son Jacob was alive, in the world, and breathing oxygen!
But from the moment I’d heard Joanne’s admonition that morning, I knew March 3rd would be forever an important day in the lives of the members of our family. I savored the details throughout the day.
Some memorable days are not exactly joyful. Does the date “Monday, November 14, 1988” mean anything to you? It might, if it was when you were born. (I recall that a friend of my daughter, Jenni, gave birth to a daughter in the wee hours of that morning.)
But for me, that date â€” November 14, 1988 â€” is a day I will never forget. My life changed on that day. I began a journey through hell-on-earth.
In tomorrow’s installment, I’ll tell you what happened.