A LIKELY STORY: THE LATEST RAGE IS UPON US: TIME CAPSULES ARE IN

It's rare that you pick up a paper these days without coming across a story about some group or another burying a time capsule like dogs burying a bone, trying to leave behind something of today for those of tomorrow.

A recent article estimates that 10,000 time capsules are out there -- somewhere -- filled with everything from Beanie Babies to Buns-of-Steel workout videos.

And it's not so foolish really, even if some of the items stored away are. Humans, as a species, are largely sentimental beings. And partially egotistical, too, I suppose.

So we sort through our possessions, worth something only to us, and pack them away, as if they might be of the same value to someone later on. I guess when I put it that way, it does sound kind of silly.

But there's nothing wrong with wanting to share a bit of today with people later. Sharing, they say, is always a good thing. And why does everything have to make sense?

I've been looking at Cape Girardeau differently over the last couple of days. Lately, with big life changes that I'll elaborate more on next time, I've been thinking about my life here and what mark I have left.

Or, to phrase it another way, what would I leave in a time capsule for those who come after.

What if I just wanted to leave a time capsule that would show people about me -- your average newspaper reporter with a wife, a son and a dog -- and how would I decide what to put in? What could I show about myself and my family? What have I done and what would people be interested in about me?

The short and easy answer is a couple of pictures of me with my family, my best column and a cold bottle of beer.

The real answer is that it's hard to say. I'm only 25. I said human beings are sentimental and I'm no exception. My wife calls it melodramatic. Others might say overly sensitive. Male friends say I think too much, as if thinking were a bad thing.

Maybe I'm too young to think about legacies, but you never know when your number's up and then what? If that were to happen, I would have waited too long. Waiting too long, that's a sad old tune that many folks probably could have sung along to.

So, if I wanted to look around Cape Girardeau and wonder will I be remembered in 50 years, well the painful answer is probably not. I was born here, grew up here and spent nearly 100 percent of every year here.

But so what? Lots of people have.

But people tend not to think that way. But I've had a lot of memories here. And I've made a lot of friends. And I clearly could not fit the essence, even the most basic essence, of my first 25 years here in a capsule to bury it away.

So, instead, maybe I would just look through the house and come up with a couple of meaningless things that would make sense to people who know me.

Some pictures. A decent column. And a cold beer.

And maybe, just maybe, it would be enough.

Scott Moyers is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.