When British singer John Lennon met Japanese multimedia artist Yoko Ono in 1966, he fell head over heels in love. He dropped his first wife, Cynthia, like a hot potato. He had an affair and married Yoko in early 1969.
Lennon gave his former wife only a stipend as a divorce settlement, although he knew Cynthia was going to have to support and raise their son, Julian, who was then just five years old.
According to the story, which I got from social media, Cynthia was soon almost flat broke after a few years. She knew she would have to get some money together in order for her and Julian to survive.
Cynthia made the necessary decision, she would sell the love letters and drawings Lennon had given her when they were a young couple, in love, in their teens. The letters were very passionate, filled with “I love you, Cyn” quotes.
You can imagine how much it must have hurt Cynthia to have to part with these priceless keepsakes. But Cynthia sold them for a large amount.
Someone bought those memorabilia. You know who? Paul McCartney, Lennon’s best friends when they were still a band called The Beatles. He reportedly had paid a small fortune for the mementoes.
A few days later, Cynthia received all the letters and drawings in the mail, now all neatly framed. They came with a note, which reads: “Never sell your memories. Love, Paul McCartney.”
As I read the story, the words of the song, “Memory” – a show tune composed by Andrew Lloyd Webber, with lyrics by Trevor Nunn based on poems by T. S. Eliot – came to mind. I can hear either Barbra Streisand or Lea Salonga singing the song that was written for the 1981 musical Cats:
“Memory / All alone in the moonlight / I can smile at the old days / Life was beautiful then / I remember / The time I knew what happiness was / Let the memory live again.”
As if by mere coincidence, my neighbor is listening to the radio and the song being played is – believe it or not – Maroon 5’s “Memories.”
The memorable lines went this way: “There’s a time that I remember when I did not know no pain. When I believed in forever, and everything would stay the same. Now my heart feels like December when somebody says your name ‘cause I can’t reach out to call you, but I know I will one day.”
More often than not, we will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory. As American singer Billy Joel puts it: “As long as there are memories, yesterday remains. As long as there is hope, tomorrow awaits. As long as there is friendship, today is beautiful.”
British novelist James Graham Ballard also stated, “Memories have huge staying power, but like dreams, they thrive in the dark, surviving for decades in the deep waters of our minds like shipwrecks on the sea bed.”
You often remember your first time. “I vividly recall the wobbly excitement of my first solo bike ride,” a young executive said. “My dad held the back of the seat, encouraging me to pedal faster. When he finally let go, I felt a mix of fear and exhilaration. The wind in my hair, the freedom of movement – I’ll forever cherish that milestone.”
You also don’t forget those unexpected kindness extended to you. “Once, when I was feeling down, a stranger in a coffee shop paid for my latte. Their small act of kindness lifted my spirits and reminded me of the goodness in the world. Whenever I pay it forward, I think of that moment and smile.”
“Memory,” wrote British author Oscar Wilde, “is the diary we all carry about with us.” And Nobel laureate Bob Dylan added, “If you want to keep your memories, you first have to live them.”
I remember that when I was a little boy growing up in Bansalan, Davao del Sur. I wanted to become a comics illustrator since I enjoyed reading comics. But since we lived in a town far away from Metro Manila, that dream was impossible to happen.
So, I decided to focus my attention on other things. When I was in high school, I used to go to Davao City and sell newspapers and magazines in bus stations. That was how I spent my summer. That way, I could earn money and spend it for my tuition and buy school supplies for my siblings and myself. It was my way of helping my parents to make ends meet.
At school, when my English teacher asked us to submit our home reading report, I went to the library and read those condensed stories published in Reader’s Digest. I was fascinated by the stories it featured. In addition, I loved reading those articles and those jokes. In fact, I tried contributing some anecdotes for “Laughter, the best medicine.” But they were never published.
I was not fitted to write anecdotes; I was prepared for something much better. Years later, when I was already writing, Peter Dockrill – then the editor-in-chief of Reader’s Digest – personally came to Davao City to talk with me personally about writing for the magazine.
“I have read some of your articles,” Dockrill told me. “You have a very interesting style of writing. It’s as if you are writing for the magazine already.”
Nicholas Sparks wrote: “It happens to everyone as they grow up. You find out who you are and what you want, and then you realize that people you’ve known forever don’t see things the way you do. So, you keep the wonderful memories, but find yourself moving on.”
Again, here the Maroon 5: “Here’s to the ones that we got / Cheers to the wish you were here, but you’re not / ‘Cause the drinks bring back all the memories / Of everything we’ve been through / Toast to the ones here today / Toast to the ones that we lost on the way / ‘Cause the drinks bring back all the memories / And the memories bring back, memories bring back you.”
