So much of what we do today is frivolous and futile and soon forgotten. So much of what we hope to do tomorrow never happens. The past is the bank in which we store our most valuable possession: the memories that give meaning and depth to our lives. Those who truly treasure the past will not bemoan the passing of the good old days, because days enshrined in memory are never lost. Death itself is powerless to still a remembered voice or erase a remembered smile. And for one boy who is now a man, there is a pond which neither time nor tide can change, where he can still spend a quite hour in the sun.
[00:00.00] So much of what we do today is frivolous and futile and soon forgotten. So much of what we hope to do tomorrow never happens. The past is the bank in which we store our most valuable possession: the memories that give meaning and depth to our lives. Those who truly treasure the past will not bemoan the passing of the good old days, because days enshrined in memory are never lost. Death itself is powerless to still a remembered voice or erase a remembered smile. And for one boy who is now a man, there is a pond which neither time nor tide can change, where he can still spend a quite hour in the sun.