Kookooba is a land far away from here….

Kookooba is a land far away from here. Far away from the perils of hate, love, and war. The landscape shows many moons… or maybe they were suns. Roads winding up, down, and over themselves, suspended in mid-air, not leading to anywhere in particular. Little, green, naked beings lounging around on the narrow roadways, free of cares and inhibitions. The trees in Kookooba were tall and thin like the stem of a tulip. Each had one or two large leaves that hung flaccid over the roads, giving shade to the comfortable skin of the Kookooba people.

This is where we all should be.

But Kookooba doesn’t exist anymore. It ended some time ago, along with my father’s drug use. This was his land and he painted pictures of it all the time. You might think he had nothing else to draw. You can still find some scenery hanging randomly on walls in his house or covered in dust up in the attic.

As a child, I saved a homemade birthday card he made me. I think I was turning 8. He drew the roadways of Kookooba to spell out my name “Coz” and I thought it was wonderful. I thought my dad was a great artist when I was a kid. I thought he was a famous artist. Kookooba was something I figured everyone knew about… and he put MY name in a picture. How privileged was I to have that! How privileged I was to have him as my dad!

I saved it, tucked away in a drawer for years and years.

A love letter or two (or 50) from my first girlfriend, Stacey, were saved for years.

A photo of Joyce and me at our big 6 month anniversary dinner,

An old personal phone book,

A necklace,

A rock that I scratched my name into, claiming I found it that way (hey, I was 6 years old!),

A mix tape,

A nickel,

…all saved. For what?

These are things that have sentimental value. At least, they should. Then one day you get to a point where, although they are just as familiar as they were before, they have no use anymore. They’re just taking up space and what could you possibly need them for, anyway? Sometimes I don’t think they ever had any real “sentimental value” at all, but I figured they should. So I saved them. I didn’t want to live with the guilt I would feel for tossing such an item. I didn’t want to have to face someone when I told them I threw it out.

Some of these items I still have. Some are gone. More than likely, they’ll all be gone at some point.