“Stop! I’m not ready!”

My brothers had finally loosened the last tabs on the lid of Dad’s 50-year-old time capsule. Twenty-eight family members had gathered in Missouri, and we’d spent months anticipating this moment.

But suddenly, with the lid about to come off, I wasn’t quite ready for it to happen.

Let me back up.

This time capsule story began 50 years ago, but I don’t remember much about that start. We always knew there was one, but I didn’t really pay much attention to it over the years. 

Fast forward to last week. I traveled to my hometown in Missouri and met 27 other family members there. 

The first night, I was so anxious to see that barrel. I had been writing about it and thinking about it for months, but had not touched it in decades. I was so excited to see it, I gave it a hug!

That night we weighed it. We were still curious about what was in it, and thought that might help. It didn’t. 

The next day we had a different family event to attend, but we were still discussing the logistics about opening it. What started to get in our heads was that the barrel used to hold poison. So my sister was frantically searching online about precautions we needed to take.

But both of my brothers said they had done many projects with our dad and were confident he had cleaned and packed that barrel with the utmost care.

Even so, we thought there could be fumes or a smell, so it was decided we would open it on my sister’s screened-in porch.

Saturday morning, we took hundreds of photos with the barrel – the 5 of us with it, the grandkids, the great-grandkids. We took photos of all of our hands on top of it, and even one in front of the Kansas State football game. Dad would have LOVED that connection! How fortunate we were that the game was on at the same time.

Once we were done with the photos we took the barrel out to the back porch. With all of us around it, my 2 brothers began to snip the wires that were soldered around the tabs of the lid. Then one by one they bent those tabs up so the lid could be removed.

Once all the tabs were bent up, I said “Stop! I’m not ready!” I was just overcome with, THIS IS THE MOMENT!

When the lid was lifted, the first thing we saw was foam insulation. We stopped there and carried the barrel back into the house. We put it on the coffee table, said a prayer, and with the 5 of us around it, we began to remove items.

On the top was the insulation, then wadded-up newspapers. A Catholic “Our Sunday Visitor” newspaper was the first thing on top. It wasn’t wadded up or encased in foil like everything else, so it made me think it was a last minute addition.

Below that were many items wrapped in foil. But this wasn’t your average kitchen aluminum foil. It seems to be heavier and softer and we thought Dad probably got it from work. Wrapping everything with that was brilliant because it all was perfectly preserved.

We were so excited it was hard not to just dive in and unwrap as fast as possible. But we took turns and watched each other peel back that foil to reveal the items.

The first flat piece of foil on top was so thin, we thought it was just packing and set it aside. But as we took out more things we decided we better open that and see if it had anything in it.

Lo and behold, it held a list of the contents of the barrel. While that might seem silly to be inside the barrel, when everything was out, we were able to check it to make sure we weren’t missing anything.

I teared up a couple of times. Reading the letter from my dad to his “descendants” and when I found the Archbishop Fulton Sheen letter.

As we opened things, the entire family was standing around us. Many were filming and taking photos. We heard lots of laughter and oohs and aahs.

A couple of the great-grandchildren wanted to open some of the things, but I said no. I selfishly wanted this to just be the 5 of us. I told them they get to open the next one. In 50 years! 

We had our parents’ antique dining room table stretched out (my sister has it in her house) to hold all the items. We had the grands and greats carry them over to be placed there. And as more things accumulated, family members were looking at them and taking it all in. 

My parents were still around when all of their grandchildren were born. Everyone knew “Papa” and the contents were such a reflection of him.

It truly was one of the best days of my life. For a few hours, surrounded by our family and the things our father had left behind, it felt as though we had Dad and Mom back with us.

And I think that’s what made opening this barrel so much more than opening a time capsule.