I turned 78 this week and yes, I am still trying to find the meaning of life. Fortunately, reminiscing with my daughter a time when she took me to a gallery made me reflect that it is mostly the simple things that make life important.

The exhibit she took me to was a display of every piece that goes into a typewriter.

I remember at first glance I thought what a boring morning that would be, but as I walked along the halls of the gallery looking at every piece in display from small screws and springs to the more identifiable parts of the whole made me appreciate the time, care, and patience that took to design and craft an apparatus that helped convey humanity’s most important accomplishments and literary masterworks.

Thanks to my daughter whose memory helped me understand the importance of paying attention to the simple things in life. Sometimes they are better than measuring life by greater deeds.

I remember when people kissed their elder’s hands;

I remember Cri Cri;

I remember crying for a lost kitty and my grandmother going out in a rainy night looking for it;

I remember waking up to fresh percolated coffee aroma;

I remember the Nash, Gremlin, and Datsun;

I remember using an outhouse;

I remember wondering why cars’ headlights were on during blackouts;

I remember the first time I had a licuado;

I remember El Santo and Blue Demon;

I remember Rita Moreno and Morgan Freeman in the Electric Company;

I remember wondering why the car radio played Spanish music after crossing the border from Mexico;

I remember when emergency vehicles were respected;

I remember getting my first bike…and being stolen the day after;

I remember when baseball was king;

I remember seeing a priest blessing a red Impala and wondering, WTF?

I remember when wearing white cotton socks was the coolest thing EVER;

I remember using Crew cut Vaseline;

I remember Gene Vincent;

I remember feeling guilty after having an erection in mass and didn’t know why;

I remember my first tie and hating it (wide, dark brown with large white spots);

I remember when there was trust on the News;

I remember being surprised the first time I saw two types of cereal in one pantry;

I remember when I used to eat three eggs, two pork chops, tortillas and beer before going to bed and never gained an ounce;

I remember when SNL was funny;

I remember when I had social skills and I remember when I lost them;

I remember when I could have coffee, ice cream, carnitas, salsa without digestion pains;

I remember differentiating between BRACERO the coal-tin heater and BRACERO the migrant worker;

I remember when I thought I knew what love was…and then my children came along.