Keeping Memories Ajar

A Jar Full of Dad Puns

Dad puns have a way of lingering in the back of our memories. My father loved them — and my husband might be even worse. My dad’s most infamous pun was inspired by our 1984 Chrysler E-Car, a marvel of the moment because it talked and had power windows. Every time we opened the door, a robotic voice would warn: “A door is ajar.”

And without fail — even with a carpool full of teenagers — the Judge would reply, “A door is many things, but a jar it is not.”

When I sat down to write Sailing with Angels, that silly line resurfaced. Writing for children — especially lyrical stories and poetic tales — invites us to tuck in tiny easter eggs that help metaphors blossom. And that pun, ridiculous as it was, held a surprising amount of meaning.

As I grew older and the generation of grandparents began to fade — and now, as our own parents’ generation starts to pass — I’ve noticed something universal: a fear of forgetting. The last years of life can feel foggy, consumed by logistics, caretaking, and the complications of aging. It’s easy to lose the bright parts in the blur.

So as I wrote, I started playing with the idea of open and closed… and the space in between. A jar of memories. Keeping those memories ajar — just open enough to revisit, to celebrate, to breathe.

And so it was that a bad dad pun inspired a central theme in my story about navigating grief:
Honor the happy memories.
Hold onto the wisdom.
Keep the jar open.

✨ Click here to watch my little Instagram musing on this moment.

Sneak Peak from the book:

A whisper rose, both warm and light,  “Keep memories ajar, where angels sail bright.” Briel laughed, her heart held tight,  “Ajar,” she mused, “but a jar is not right!” It was the Judge’s favorite jest.  A joke repeated with loving zest. “A jar,” he’d say, “holds things inside. Sealed away, where memories hide. But ‘ajar’—it leaves a space.  A door left open, time to trace. Between the past and yet to be, That’s where love still drifts at sea.”