Memories | 100 Words

A Box of Treasures

October 24th, 2026
Mollie T. Cox

In May 1962, my immediate family drove across the state of Tennessee with my beloved grandparents. My sister and I rode on a black sofa cushion in the back of Mr. Pontiac, a two-toned station wagon. Air flowed through the grate covering the open window as we traveled to my aunt’s college graduation.

Aunt Mary Ann waited on a corner downtown to show us our motel. My father told us to be on the lookout, and we yelled when we spied her. My four-year-old mind marveled that she knew when to expect us.

Last weekend, I opened a box from my nephew’s storage unit. Hidden among my grandfather’s report cards, newspaper clippings of family milestones, and much more was this postcard.

Exactly as I remember. Our family stayed in the corner room.

I remember the sandwiches made from the contents in our enormous cooler but not the complimentary breakfast.

I look at the postcard and feel the roughness of that black sofa cushion. I have almost wept remembering those magical days. My brother feels the same about his third-grade fire captain certificate found in the box.

May God bless Melissa for protecting these treasures and Maria for passing them along.

Family, Memories

100 Years

September 12th, 2026
Mollie T. Cox

My father, who was born September 12, 1926

My father was only five years older than I am today when he passed. We never know people fully, especially our parents, but the years since then have taught me much.

While my mother regaled us with her college exploits, my father said little beyond his college dances and his photography for the college yearbook. Five years ago, I read that yearbook. My father was also an editor and involved in multiple clubs. He roomed with my Uncle Floyd, who told me about their racing cars around town.

I recently learned that my father taught my cousin the box step. Why not me I wondered, and then, realized she is fourteen years younger than me. My father was retired at that time.

Until I was in my thirties, I never knew or even suspected that my father and his brothers were physically and emotionally abused. Two uncles revealed their experiences. I’ve read that breaking a cycle of abuse is hard, but my father did. He was upbeat, kind, and attentive. I consider that his greatest legacy, which overshadows the parental shortcomings that grieved when I was younger.

Memories, Parenting, Photos

Savoring Our Photos

December 27th, 2025
Mollie T. Cox

Was it worth the time and expense of making detailed photo albums for my sons? Another friend wondered the same about her grandchildren’s albums.

I decided the answer was yes. Choosing and arranging photos meant I not only reviewed my sons’ lives from birth through high school, but I also savored the memories and gained insight into our family.

Years later, one son told me he explained his life to new friends by showing them his photo albums.

The whole point of taking pictures is so that you don’t have to explain things with words.
Elliot Erwitt Documentary Photographer

I wished we had reviewed our photos on a regular basis. We might have gained more insight into our family history. Memories might be sharper. I don’t remember that were sad words to hear when a family event had been important to me.

There is nothing more touching to me than a family picture where everyone is trying to look his or her best, but you can see what a mess they all are.
Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies

Perhaps I’ll review our 2025 photos on New Year’s Day. Perhaps you will, too.

Book Recommendations, Memories

Mr. Rabbit and the Lovely Present

September 13th, 2025
Mollie T. Cox

She likes red,” said the little girl.

Red,” said Mr. Rabbit. “You can’t give her red.”

Something red, maybe,” said the little girl.
Mr. Rabbit and the Lovely Present by Charlotte Zolotow

I’ve loved this book since the first time my school librarian read it in 1964. I was in the 1st grade. I don’t think I encountered Mr. Rabbit again until a children’s literature course in college.

I knew Mr. Rabbit was fiction. I knew I shouldn’t follow a rabbit into the woods to look for something red or yellow or green or blue—even if he was polite and spoke perfect English. (You know all this, too.)

Still, it was tempting to think I could.

My husband and I vacationed in the mountains last month and who did we find in the woods? Mr. Rabbit. We knew he would be there because we saw him last time.

My husband said, “Something red, maybe.” (He had read the book to our sons.)

I followed Mr. Rabbit. Just for a photo.

Left: Mr. Rabbit drawn by Maurice Sendek. Right: Mr. Rabbit in the Shenandoah National Park

First grade Book Magic hasn’t disappeared.

Have you experienced lasting Book Magic?

Memories, Parenting

Perhaps I Did Do My Best

May 3rd, 2025
Mollie T. Cox

Memory, my dear Cecily, is the diary we all carry about with us.
Miss Prism, The Importance Of Being Earnest

Yes, but it usually chronicles the things that have never happened and couldn’t possibly have happened.
Cecily, The Importance of Being Earnest

I don’t believe my memories are my imagination, but I do know that memories are tricky. Sometimes I forget the victories and remember the struggles. Sometimes the opposite. As I think about raising my sons, my memories tell me I could have listened more or played more or many other things more.

Rarely does one get a chance to revisit past situations. Last month—as I cared nonstop for young children for days and days—I got that chance.

Through last month’s filter of sleep deprivation, constant action, fatigue, and rarely having solitude to think, the things I left unsaid and undone while raising my sons were not unreasonable. By reliving my circumstances when my own children were young, I now understand that the things that I wish I had made happen couldn’t possibly have happened.

Perhaps I did do my best. Like you.