I don’t remember my first scrapbook, but that would be because I was a newborn.

Okay, maybe it doesn’t count that I was the subject of the scrapbook. But I can tell you that that book holds more memories for me than just about anything else from my childhood – especially since I can’t remember anything that happened in the photos! But I loved looking at the pictures, both by myself and with my younger sister after she was born, and laughing at the chubby little baby who looked like Buddha…who called 911 by accident before she could talk…who used to ride the family cocker spaniel like a rodeo horse…who got caught with two handfuls and a mouth crammed with dogfood…the list goes on and on.

It never occurred to me to keep a scrapbook of my own until college, though.

The boy I was dating at the time had an obsessive habit of keeping newspaper clippings of every band he went to see, every outing, every major event. I didn’t realize how important this was to him until I accidentally threw away a copy of the local indie newspaper he had been saving. He flipped out.

As a good, dutiful girlfriend, I called the local office and, after much cajoling, persuaded them to send me clippings of the things that he had wanted to keep. When I presented him with the clippings, he was astounded.

I think I earned some good points that day.

What I didn’t realize was why he was keeping the clippings. I didn’t find out until months later, when he had organized them into a scrapbook…

…and had little captions about every kiss, every memorable conversation we had shared at every venue.

I’m glad I have that baby book still, and it’s a source of endless joy.

I lost the boy years ago…but I wish I had a copy of that scrapbook.