Mind Uploading - The Memory Transfer

"Don't put off until tomorrow what you can do today."
                                                                -- Benjamin Franklin

Unfortunately, I've put off a million things since my mother passed away, and I keep doing it, but Mr. Franklin's philosophy is one my brother has adopted (I hope not temporarily) as he has ventured off to Southern Illinois, Indiana and Missouri. My retired-from-the-military brother is not a traveler, and he certainly hasn't attempted a journey on his own. He, too, has been putting things off - since his wife passed away.

He was supposed to take this pilgrimage with my older sister. The plan was to go back to their roots, their old stompin' grounds, and re-connect to those simpler times. They were going to make stops throughout that tri-state area and visit with classmates from the 1950s, re-discover the old and tired old towns of Southern Illinois and visit with family. They would share stories; most likely each of them having different memories to share. But, because of an emergency, my sister had to cancel.

My brother was disappointed, and I encouraged him to just hold off until she could reschedule. Shame on me!

A day or two later, he called to say he was still going and had everything planned. The OCD side of my brother just wouldn't let him go out the door without a complete itinerary, down to the dates and times he would be in each town. And you know what? That's okay. At least he went forward with his plans -- far more than I would have done if I'd been in his shoes. While this trip may not sound like much to some, it is certainly a huge step for my brother. I have been so thrilled for him, and just a little green with envy. I wish I'd been able to also go (but you'll soon see, I sorta' did).

Before he left San Antonio, he dragged himself into a cell phone store and moved into the 21st century with a new iPhone (prior to that, he was still using a flip phone of some kind), and he taught himself how to take pictures and then send those photos through Facebook and texting. He laughed when I dubbed his trip "Pee Wee's Great Adventure." (My six-foot brother is far from being Pee Wee)

His first few days were spent visiting with his old friends in Missouri, so I didn't know the area or the people. One of his first night's stay was in a town called Festus. I explained to him how to turn the camera around on his cell phone so he could take a "selfie" and then asked him to take a photo of himself in front of the Festus sign, since he looks so much like Uncle Fester from Adams Family. He laughed, again, but you know what? The next morning, there was a photo of my brother in front of the sign posted to Facebook! That's when I knew this was going to be a great trip for him and I was going to live vicariously through his phone calls, his Facebook posts and his text messages.

Back in 2007, I took Mother back to Southern Illinois, to her "homeland." I remain so glad we took the trip and extremely grateful for that time with Mom. We went to many of the same places my brother is now visiting, which makes my brother's trip all the more special - even to me. Since his itinerary has taken him into Illinois, I've cried both with excitement and sadness as he calls and tells me what he's doing and where he is.

Today he went to Vienna, Ill., a small town that bustled in the 30s and 40s, but he couldn't find the old home in which our grandparents lived, nor the little house in which our parents lived, so, disappointed, he went on his way to his next stop.
When our father's parents died from complications caused by a car accident, my brother was only three and I was not even a twinkle in my parents' eyes, yet. So, neither of us knew our grandparents on my father's side.

Thank goodness for technology, though, because I was able to send my brother photos of what the two houses looked like in 2007. But, instead of going back, he carried on with his planned itinerary, which took him to Alto Pass, along Southern Illinois' Wine Trail, and to Bald Knob, the home of the giant porcelain cross. 

The Cross of Peace is so beautiful, and in the middle of nowhere. Mother and I went there in 2007 on the foggiest of days, and we both wept at the sight of it. It stands 111-feet tall and overlooks the Shawnee National Forest, a favorite place of my father's.

Bald Knob Cross of Peace in 2007

So, here's the really good part to this story.The old photos I sent to my brother earlier today piqued his interest and after sending up a prayer from the Cross of Peace, my brother decided to return to Vienna. Thanks to my pictures, he was able to find what my parents called the "Big House," where my grandparents lived (my grandfather was a doctor and delivered most of the babies in the area) and the "Little House," where my parents lived. Not only that, but he came upon some elderly people whom, after he explained what house he was looking for and why, invited him to "sat for a spell and have some lemonade." And tonight, as he was having dinner, he ended up speaking to two elderly gentlemen who knew our grandfather!

I've looked forward to every phone call my brother has made to me; today there have been dozens. Even though I'm not physically there, I've lived every moment of his trip with him - and I've been able to share some of Mother's stories she shared with me in 2007; things my brother didn't know. If my mother and I hadn't made that trip together, she likely wouldn't have been moved to share her stories - as the places we visited sparked memories that I also hope to carry with me forever.

Mother and me in Metropolis, Ill. in 2007 at an old one-room school house

that was made into a bed and breakfast - a fabulous trip when her memories became mine.

I think my brother's going to return home a changed man. Alone, he has made new friends out of complete strangers - people who have shaped his past into a new future.