If you are of my generation, you probably remember Fred and Wilma Flintstone. And I imagine you can also immediately hear the song, “Flintstones meet the Flintstones. They’re a modern stone-aged family…” or Fred’s “Yaba Daba Do.” It was a fun cartoon (and later a movie, remember that?!) I loved watching while growing up. However, I have another more personal connection to Flintstone. Believe it or not, but there happens to be a VERY small town in Maryland, called Flintstone. According to google, there used to be about 170 people living there as of 2020. Now the census only recognizes 8 people, one of whom is my uncle. Flintstone is where my mother grew up, along with her parents and younger brother.
My mom and her family lived in a beautiful home that was built in 1805. (fun fact: it is now on the national registry). As is typical when living in a small town, everyone knew everyone. My grandpop was the town’s “mayor” and my grammy always had her famous sweet rolls (i.e., cinnamon rolls) or caramel brownies ready for guests who would just drop by. My sisters and I spent our summers there, skipping rocks in the creek behind their house or playing behind in the pine trees next to the garage or laughing while grandpop rolled us around in his wheelbarrow. One of my favorite memories is harvesting vegetables from their garden, snapping green beans for dinner, or biting into a fresh tomato my grandpop picked, rubbed on his shorts to clean off so we could eat it on the spot. There was nothing better.
Flintstone was a magical place for me and is deeply engrained in the fiber of my being. Fortunately, my children also have fond memories of that tiny slice of the world before my grandparents departed it. My uncle inherited that house, his childhood home (the only home he’d ever known). His life became all encompassed by that small town. His friends and work were all in that area. He, along with a handful of others, made up the town’s volunteer firefighters. Such a deeply connected bond between them.
A few weeks ago my mom and I along with our partners made an unexpected trip back to Flintstone. This time it was to bid a final farewell to that house, and town, and my uncle/her brother. It is the end of an era. A chapter in our lives is closing. Sifting through belongings while closing down the house brought about so much sentiment, memories, emotion, gratitude, and peace.
What does this have to do with self-care you ask? It’s a couple of things. One, what memories are you making? Look for ways to slow down and focus on what really matters. Memories and connections are what you take with you. My uncle’s worldly possessions don’t mean much at this point. It’s all sifted down to a few bins. What was most impressive were the wonderful things people said about him, the relationship they shared, and the way he gave of himself to his community. His generous spirit and kindness to others are qualities I will take with me.
This year has brought a lot of loss but in those sad moments, there are reminders to make the most of what we are given, prioritize our wellness, our families, and our values. Even if we live in a small town or work in a rock quarry, we can make the world a better place while protecting our well-being. Let’s Yaba Daba Do it!