Notches on the Door

Written on April 10, 2018

Author Margaret Atwood wrote that “the past is a closed door” and she was right. We can’t open the door and go back in time. Life doesn’t work that way. Life moves forward and we grow along the journey.

Ah, but that closed door still has value! We gradually mark its frame with a collection of notches that measure our growth and track important points in our life. The notches and space between them vary in size but each one represents a connection from the present to the past.

I was recently reminded of this fact while attending a celebration of life for Sam Epley. Sam passed away far too soon and the room overflowed with those impacted by his life. The celebration was filled with memories of Sam shared by family and friends — each tribute marking an important event in the life of its speaker. Listening to the comments, I was reminded of my own connection to Sam and his family.

I spent a great deal of time with Mike, Maile, Erin and Sam Epley during my high school and college years. I remember dropping by their house on countless occasions to find Mike in his favorite recliner — always willing to share his wisdom on any topic.

I remember when Mike tried to help with laundry by moving a load from the washer to dryer. I can still see Erin holding up a shrunken shirt in her hands and telling her dad not to “help” any more.

I remember summer cookouts and pool parties in the backyard that included our family and friends.

And I remember my brother Jordan and Sam as two young men ready to rule the world after watching The Texas Chainsaw Massacre one summer. So it was only natural to take advantage of the situation at church camp that year and recreate a horror scene in real life with some help from willing accomplices.

After careful planning with Maile the champion camp cook, we set the scheme in motion. My mom brought our gas-powered lawn trimmer to camp which was the perfect stand-in for a chainsaw after dark. We waited until evening to pull a rare camp prank that included Chuck Frazier and myself — gas trimmer in tow — at the top of the trail while my brother Josh and Aaron Grieb positioned themselves at the bottom of the trail. Jordan and Sam (Brad Tyndall may have been there too) were asked to head down the trail toward the cabin of the camp director as darkness fell.

Hiding in the brush, Chuck and I watched giddily as the unsuspecting boys passed us on the trail. That’s when we fired up the trimmer with a roar of the engine! Jordan and Sam took off like Olympic sprinters down the trail only to run into Josh and Aaron at the opposite end. I don’t think they ever imagined that a “chainsaw massacre” would follow them all the way to camp. The practical joke was priceless and couldn’t have been pulled off with any better sports than those boys. That was the Sam I will always remember and it is one of several notches on my door that involve the Epley family.

There is a large gap for me between those notches and the present which is both sad and sacred. Sad because I realize how much time has passed and how things change. Sacred because I know that even another 20 years will not erode the importance of those moments in my life.

I hadn’t talked with Sam in many years but it was important to attend his celebration, support his family and share wonderful memories.

None of us can go back in time because the door to the past is closed. But we all mark its frame along the way to record significant steps in the journey. Notches on the door remind us where we have been and help measure who we become. Most importantly, they connect us to one another — no matter how great the time or distance in between.