I do my best thinking while mowing grass. There’s something about the engine drone that puts me in a meditative state and sets my mind free to think about things that would ordinarily overwhelm my attention span.
Last Sunday, while marching in rectangles behind my Honda push mower, a random thought occurred to me: What would I grab if our house caught on fire? We’ve never had a house fire — knock on wood — but it doesn’t hurt to be mentally prepared, right?
First, I tried to narrow the field a little. There’s no need saving items that could be easily replaced, I decided. And it goes without saying that making sure family and pets get out the door would be my top priority.
I’m thinking of a scenario where, say, a fire breaks out in an upstairs bedroom and I have a couple of minutes to sweep through the ground floor of the house picking up irreplaceable keepsakes.
Here, in no particular order, is the list I came up with:
1. My maternal grandfather’s gold Elgin pocket watch. Connor Whiteside was born in 1874. It’s hard to wrap my mind around the fact that he was born 151 years ago, less than 10 years after the end of the Civil War. He owned a grocery store in Middle Tennessee and died shortly after I was born in 1958.
2. The American flag that draped my father’s coffin. It’s in a small, triangular display case in the hall, and it means a lot to me. My dad, Blair Kennedy, was a master sergeant in the Korean conflict, and the flag reminds me of him (and his service) every morning when I get up and go make my coffee.
(READ MORE: On losing my dear Uncle Luther.)
3. A wedding photo. There’s a photo in our bedroom of me whispering into my wife’s ear on our wedding day at Signal Point in 1996. It was early in the morning with dew still on the grass, and I remember how pretty Wetherly looked with her braided hair and lovely smile.
4. My autographed photo of Jack Lambert. This may sound hokey, but I have a photo of the Hall of Fame Pittsburgh Steelers linebacker on the wall of our dining room. I’m a lifelong Steelers fan, and Lambert personifies the toughness of a franchise that has won six Super Bowls and has a worldwide fan base. The photo was given to me by a reader who roomed with Lambert in college.
5. A miniature cowbell. This one is pure sentiment. At one of our older son’s high school soccer games, somebody in the crowd gave this cowbell to me and I remember ringing it like crazy at the state championships. It represents a beloved era of fatherhood to me.
6. A framed photo of our two boys, circa 2007. In the black-and-white photo, the boys, ages 6 and 1, are dressed in adult shirts and ties and they are playing with an antique typewriter. My wife had the photo made for a book cover.
7. My father-in-law’s carving of a leather coat. My wife’s father, Wade Frazier, died earlier this year. A life-size carving of a leather jacket hanging limply from a peg is displayed on our fireplace hearth. Every time I see this carving, Wade’s craftsmanship amazes me. The coat is so lifelike that I think a stranger might try to take if off the hook and try it on.
(READ MORE: Father-in-law’s legacy shows in our two boys.)
8. A photo on the fridge of my mother, Wilma, holding our older son, Keeling, as a baby. By the time this photo was taken, mother was in the early stages of dementia. But I think she knew that this was her long-awaited first grandbaby.
9. A hand-drawn portrait of my former dogs Nessie and Beuly. I had a dear friend who drew a portrait of my two female West Highland white terriers back in the 1990s. I got them as litter-mate puppies in the early 1990s, and I think they changed my life and helped prepare me for marriage and fatherhood.
10. The keys to my younger son’s Ford F-350. On my way out the door, I’d grab the keys to my son’s school-bus yellow 1973 truck, which used to belong to a dear family friend who died of COVID.
I’d toss all the keepsakes in the truck, fire up the growling 390-cubic-inch engine, back it out of the garage with all my precious objects in the bed.
This may seem like an exercise in frivolity, but it’s really about editing your life down to a few inanimate objects that are symbolic of your best memories.
Do this if you really want to see your life flash before your eyes.
Email Mark Kennedy at mkennedy@timesfreepress.com.