How are you remembered?

This morning as I was pouring myself a cup of coffee I looked down at my mug. For years now -- at least 12 -- I've drank my coffee at home in a mug with the face of a classic Warner Bros. cartoon character on it. Most of the time it's the Tasmanian Devil, but sometimes it's Sylvester the cat. There's more than one mug, so I just kind of rotate them.

As I was looking at the mug, I was struck by the thought that perhaps this is something that Marty and Casey are going to remember about me. Then again, maybe they've never once noticed that I always use the same mugs every morning.

That's the thing about how you remember people...you don't really know how people will remember you and its hard to tell how you'll remember someone else. I'm not sure that most people care about it, but its one of those things I've been conscious of for probably too long.

When my father died when I was seven, I tried hard to keep whatever memories that I could of him. I don't remember anyone telling me that I should try to do that, but maybe someone did. However, most of my memories are just of small things...like remembering being in a car with him or random moments at the racetrack. I remember him looking at Playboy or listening to the soundtrack of "The Sound of Music" (or, in memories that probably lead to some behaviors in me that cause a lot of confusion for Amy, doing both of those at the same time). Oddly, I remember him being upset when people like Jim Croce, Bruce Lee and Moe Howard died -- Lee, in particular, because he had a young son named Brandon, which seemed to be the part that had caught my father's attention. To this day, I sit quietly in a movie theater because that's what he ordered me to do as a tot. And, ever since that final goodbye, the smell of too many flowers is something that I can't stand because it brings back a memory that I really don't like.

But, were something to happen to me, I don't really know how my children would remember me. I'd like to think that there's been enough things that would allow them to have good things that they could latch onto...however, it's the kind of thing that actually concerns me. Conversely, it's also not the kind of thing that you can do very much about.

Around the holidays, I went to an Indianapolis Colts game when we were staying at Amy's sister's house. My brother-in-law and their 11-year-old daughter went with me when I ended up with a couple of extra tickets (I had the tickets initially because of work). It was a nice time...the game was good and the weather was nice. As we were walking back to the car after the game, I just happened to catch a glimpse of my niece beaming up at her father in the winter sunlight. It was a week before Christmas and all I could think was, "She's making a memory of her father...she's picking this moment to try to hold onto."

Hopefully, even now, Marty and Casey have at least a couple of those moments to keep with them...but I'll keep trying to give them the opportunity to make the ones that they want.