For my dads 60th birthday last week， I wanted to do something really fun. My dad and I talk a lot about the past—nostalgia[懷舊] runs in our blood， I think—and we both love to reminisce[追憶]. Inspired by some birthday posters， I started batting around[充分考慮] an idea： what if I could get everyone from my dads past to contribute[貢獻] a memory they had of him？ What if I had all those people send their memories to me， and then I put each one into an envelope—60 total， of course—and had him open them， one by one， on his birthday？

That would be a lot of memories， right？

So I wrote an email. I sent it to family， to friends， to aunties and uncles wed grown up calling aunties and uncles even though they werent related by blood. This is what I said： “…If youre receiving this email， you probably know that our dad， Patrick Burns， is turning 60 next month （much as he would hate us to be reminding everyone， Im sure）. To celebrate his birthday， wed like to put together a little surprise to let him know that his nearest and dearest are thinking of him. Were going to try and create ‘60 Years of Memories by filling 60 envelopes with a memory his friends and family have of him. If you have a spare[空閑的] moment in the next few days， we would be so grateful if youd jot down[簡短地寫下] a favorite memory you have of our dad and put it in the post. It doesnt have to be anything fancy[特別的]—you can just write it down on a piece of paper and sign your name. You can mention anything you like—although the more nostalgic the better！ Please absolutely feel free to send more than one memory， but make sure you write them on different pieces of paper so we can split[分開] them up. Thank you so， so， so much for participating—we know everyone is busy with their own lives， and we do appreciate[感激] you taking a few minutes to do this； it will be so worth it when he reads all the memories people have of him！ Please dont forget to keep it a surprise until then…”

So I sent the email and then I waited. And then the replies started coming in. I was flabbergasted[感到震驚] and I do not use that word lightly. There were so many memories， and they were all so lovely. They came from the 50s， the 60s， the 70s， from every decade[十年] between now and the day my dad was born. They came from my mother， my siblings[兄弟姐妹]， my grandma， my dads friends from high school， his sister， an old girlfriend， my mothers old boyfriend， my dads first boss， a colleague at his first job， from people who remembered people no longer with us， from people who hadnt seen my dad in 40 years， from people I hadnt even contacted originally but who had been told about the project by someone else. They typed them and handwrote them. They mailed them and emailed them. I collected them for two weeks， my heart pinging[乒乓作響] with excitement each time a new one arrived.

The night before his birthday， my sister and I stayed up late， putting everything together. I had some vintage[經(jīng)典的] airmail envelopes left over from my wedding and I bought a packet of numbered[編號] stickers[圖文標簽] after a fraught[焦慮的] half hour of anxious[讓人擔憂的] math， trying to decide how many wed need. We numbered the envelopes from one to 60， then we tucked[折進] a different memory into each.

And then， on the morning of his birthday， after breakfast and presents and cake， we gave them to him. “Just one more thing for you，” we said.

It took him a really， really， really long time to open them. Each one was a brief ticket to another time， a leap[跳躍] backwards over years and decades into the past. There was a lot of laughter， and—I dont think my dad will mind me telling you this—a few tears too.

In a way， Im sort of sad that this project is over because it was a huge amount of fun to collect and collate[整理] all of these memories， many of them occurring years before I was even born. It gave me a different picture of my dad， one woven together by all the people from his past， all those people who—weirdly and peripherally—put into action the sequence[系列] of events that led to my life as I know it.

Turns out， you can make a lot of memories in sixty years. And then， if youre lucky， you can relive[再次體驗] them all over again.

上周是我老爸的六十大壽，我想要做點非常好玩的事情。老爸和我時常聊起舊日的時光——我認為那是因為在我們血液中流淌著懷舊情結——我倆都喜歡追憶往昔。受到一些生日海報的啟發(fā)，我開始反復思考一個想法：我能不能讓老爸以前認識的每一個人都貢獻一段他們關于他的回憶呢？我能不能讓所有這些人都把他們的回憶發(fā)給我，然后把每一段回憶都裝進一個信封里——當然了，總共60個信封——然后讓他在生日那天一個一個地打開呢？

那將會是許多的回憶，不是嗎？

于是，我寫了一封郵件。我將它發(fā)給各個家庭成員，發(fā)給許多朋友，發(fā)給那些即便沒有血緣關系，但我們從小到大都稱其為叔叔和阿姨的人。我在郵件里是這樣寫的：“……如果您收到這封郵件，您或許認識我們的老爸帕特里克·伯恩斯，他下個月將步入六十歲了（我相信我們這樣提醒每個人，他會很不高興的）。為了慶祝他的生日，我們想要一起制造一個小驚喜，讓他知道他最親密和最親愛的人們都在想著他。我們將要用親朋好友對他的記憶來填滿六十個信封，試著創(chuàng)造一段‘六十年的回憶。如果您在接下來的幾天里有點空閑時間，如果您能信手寫下一筆有關我們老爸的最美好的回憶并將之投進郵筒，我們將不勝感激。形式不需要奇特——將其寫在一張紙上，并署上您的簽名就可以了。您可以提及您喜歡的任何事情——雖然越懷舊越好！盡管寄來更多的回憶，但請您確保將它們分別寫在不同的紙張上，以便我們分裝。非常非常非常感謝您的參與——我們知道每個人都忙于各自的生活，但如果您能抽出幾分鐘的時間做這件事，我們確實無比感激；當他閱讀所有這些關于他的回憶時，一切都是非常值得的！請不要忘記保守這個驚喜直到那一刻的到來……”

就這樣，我發(fā)出了這封郵件，等候回音。接著，回信開始陸續(xù)到來。我驚呆了，我并不是隨便用這個詞的。收到的回憶如此之多，而且全都如此可愛。它們來自于50年代、60年代、70年代，來自于從現(xiàn)在回溯到我老爸出生那天的每一個十年。它們來自于我的母親，我的兄弟姐妹，我的祖母，我老爸高中時代的朋友們，他的姐妹，他的一位前女友，我母親的前男友，我老爸的第一任老板，他第一份工作的一位同僚；來自于那些還記得早已離我們而去的逝者的人；來自于那些已經(jīng)四十年沒見過我老爸的人；來自于那些我剛開始甚至都未曾聯(lián)系，但從別人處得知這一計劃的人。他們或打字，或手寫。他們或通過信件，或通過郵件寄出。我花了兩周的時間來收集回信，每當一有新的回信到達時，我的心都會興奮得砰砰作響。

在他生日的前夜，姐姐和我一起待到很晚，將所有的東西歸置齊整。我還留著一些古色古香的航空郵件信封，那是我婚禮時用剩的。我煩惱了半個小時，滿心焦慮地做算術，以決定我們需要的標簽數(shù)量。然后，我買了一包帶數(shù)字的標簽。我們將信封從1到60進行編號，接著在每個信封里裝入一段不同的回憶。

接下來，在他生日的那天清早，等吃完早餐、送完禮物、切完蛋糕，我們才把信封送給他?！霸俣嗨湍阋粯訓|西，”我們說。

打開這些信封花了他很長很長很長的時間。每一封信都是一張回程小票，讓人回到另一段時光，跳回到多年以前的曾經(jīng)。那天有著許多的歡笑——我想老爸不會介意我告訴你們這個的——也有著一些淚水。

在某種程度上說，這個計劃的結束讓我頗有點感傷，因為收集和整理所有這些回憶給我?guī)砹司薮蟮臉啡?，其中許多甚至發(fā)生在我仍未出世的久遠年代。它讓我認識了一個不同的老爸，一個由所有來自于他的過去的人們編織的老爸，無論這些人與我們的聯(lián)系有多么奇怪、多么薄弱，發(fā)生在他們身上的一連串的不同事件，都造就了如今我所擁有的人生。

其結論是，在六十年的時間里，你能制造出許許多多的回憶。而且，如果幸運的話，你還能夠再次重溫所有這些舊日時光。