The Keeper Of Moments Past
Timothy James Stenzinger
About a month before my tenth birthday, I had a life changing experience. It was, to me, something so powerful
and immense, that it left me warped and twisted for the rest of my life. It all happened one day in September,
when I went over to see my friend Scott. We went into his bedroom and that’s when I discovered something.
Something exciting. Something new. And what was this thing that I discovered in Scott’s bedroom you might
ask? It was a tape recorder. I spotted it and immediately annoyed him with a barrage of questions. “You mean
to tell me that this thing can record any noise or sound you want, just by pushing these two buttons together?” I
asked.
“Yeah, sure, whatever” he unenthusiastically replied. Every fiber of my existence now tunnel focused on this
one creation. This one concept. “I could be the keeper of all sounds” I thought, “I could be the window to all
events past. I could record myself making fart noises!” At that shining moment, I knew my purpose in life. I
wondered how I could get my greedy little hands on this mystical devise. How could I own this tape recorder
for myself? Scott really didn’t seem to care about it (or its remarkable power), so I figured that maybe he
would sell it to me. (That is, if I presented it to him in just the right way). “Hey Scott, wanna’ sell it to me?” I
asked. Without much hesitation, he simply shrugged his shoulders.
“Sure, I guess, whatever” he replied. Now on the outside, I tried to act somewhat calm and collected. But on
the inside, I could feel myself creating multiple hernias in various parts of my body! But I had to hide my inner
combustible excitement for fear that he would realize what an incredible possession he had in his midst.
“Poker-face Tim” I thought to myself, as I tried to silence an unsteady sigh.
“Uh, well, um… how much would you, uh, want for it?” I asked, as I started shaking my foot rapidly. He
shrugged his shoulders again.
“I don’t know. How ‘bout fifteen bucks? Wanna’ play some ball now?” Wow, what a great deal! I couldn’t
believe he’d sell it to me that cheap! My little kid brain scrambled frantically over how to get the money today!
“I could sell my Legos to Dave,” I thought to myself. “I could sell my bike horn to Doug!” Of course all large
purchases such as this one, required permission from my parents. Scott let me take the tape recorder home
to show them. I was bursting with excitement. This was the biggest thing I had ever pursued in my whole big
life!
“I don’t know, Tim, it’s kind of beat up,” said my dad, as he looked it over. I began to panic inside. Does he
not know my destiny? I am to be the keeper of sound, the collector of moments past, and it would be hard to
be all that without a tape recorder! I wondered what could I say to change his mind? I figured, in all the vast
nine (almost ten) years I had known my dad, there had to be some logical combination of words that I could
use to manipulate him into my way of thinking.
“It doesn’t look that bad.” I blurted out.
“Well, tell ya’ what. Give this back to Scott, and we’ll see about getting you a brand new one on your
birthday.” But I was inpatient.
“Well, can’t I just have this one? I like it.” I replied. I mean, come on, what kid wants to wait a whole month to
get something new, when they could have something now. But my dad was holding firm. I was loosing the
battle. It looked like I would have to wait. But, nevertheless, my fate was sealed. “Yes it is true! I shall be the
keeper of sound and the collector of moments past.” I would just have to wait until my tenth birthday. Then I
could record fart sounds in the shower. Earlier that year I discovered that when making fart sounds by
pressing one’s arm to his or her mouth and blowing, it sounded even more hilarious when your arms were wet.
I must have been daydreaming for a moment.
“Tim, did you hear me? Would you like a new tape recorder for your birthday?”
“Oh, yeah! That’s fine!” I replied.
So on my tenth birthday I got my tape recorder! The torch was now passed to me. Like a caterpillar turning
into a butterfly, or Clark Kent realizing his Superman identity for the first time, I too had arrived. I was the new
keeper of moments past. But first, I threw a hissy fit, because I couldn’t figure out how to make the tape
recorder record! This recorder was different from Scott’s.
After my dad helped me figure it out, I made my first recording. It was of my mom, dad and sister singing
happy birthday to me. Oh yes. A page in history had been turned. Over the next few years I had remained true
to my calling, recording everything from birds singing to my friends and I playing spaceship. From me telling
stories, to recordings of cartoons off of the television, and songs off of the radio. From Doug beating up Dave,
to my mom yelling, “Quit recording me! Turn that damn thing off!” Once there was a time when I missed a TV
program I was planning to record. I got so mad that I threw a temper tantrum as the recorder caught the whole
embarrassing moment. (It was me at my finest.) There was a funny time where I was teasing my sister. She
was only three or four at the time. It was the middle of summer around 3:00 or 4:00 pm.
“Jeanie, Mom says that you have to go to bed early. You have to go to bed now.” I said softly to her. She
began to whine. “Good night” I whispered. She whined more. “Good night.” I whispered again this time even
more quietly. She began to cry. My mom heard Jeanie crying and came into the room.
“Jeanie, you’re over-tired! You need a nap,” she said. My frustrated sister then began to scream out in
bloody murder!
One time I was making up a story on the recorder. The story wasn’t very good, but in the background you
could hear on the news, something about the upcoming election between Jimmy Carter and President Ford. I
have a recording from years later of a news flash off of the FM radio which said: “John Lennon was shot by a
deranged person three times.” There were moments when I was mean to my little sister. How I wish that I could
go back in time and “fix it”. There were good times where we all sat at Creve Coeur Lake and watched the
fireworks on Independence Day. I have recordings of aunts and uncles, grandparents and old friends long
since passed away.
To me, my most precious recordings are of the times that I left the tape recorder running by mistake. Those
truly are undisturbed moments in time. I have moments of my mom and dad sitting around my grandma’s living
room with my Uncle Ray and Uncle Irvine.
“Do you want to watch the Cardinal’s game?” asked my dad (referring to the football Cardinals back then).
“What, football? Maybe a baseball game, but, I can’t stand football,” replied Mom.
“I love football!” I blurted out in the background. (I really didn’t like football. I only said that in an attempt to
impress my uncles.)
“There was an old Marlin Brando movie on TV last night” replied Uncle Ray.
“Ooh, I love Marlin Brando” Mom replied, “The movies are better down here” (referring to St. Louis
television stations compared to the ones in Kansas City where we lived at the time).
“They’re the same.” I said, pretending to be a part of the conversation.
“What was that movie that we watched last night, Hal? It was weird.” mom asked. I could tell that the movie
freaked her out by the way she sounded.
“Oh uh, the illustrated man” Dad replied.
I feel privileged, because I get to listen to these moments any time that I want. I get to know myself in all
stages of my life by simply choosing whatever tape I prefer to listen to at any given time. I get to hear parts of
my life most people prefer to forget and moments in my life when I wish I could jump right inside the tape
recorder and stay there forever. Moments such as laughing and making fart noises in the shower just before
Mom barges into the bathroom and yells at me “Do that again and I’ll turn the cold water down and scald you
to death! Now wash under your…wash!