What I Found Hidden on a 1995 VHS Tape
The other day I went down the rabbit hole . . . the VHS rabbit hole, that is.
Feeling both armed and tech-savvy with my ability to hook up an old VCR to a modern-day television, I dug out the box in the basement filled with time capsules otherwise known as VHS tapes.
Where to start first? A birthday party from ‘93? A wedding from ’92? Thanksgiving ’96?
A treasure trove of nostalgia awaited me—my teen years captured in grainy video, full of jokes, ’90s clothes, and pop culture references from a simpler time. No social media. No internet. Just me and my family, armed with a ridiculously large camcorder, making our own YouTube show before YouTube was a thing. And now, to watch it all back . . . knowing many in those videos are no longer with us.
Memory is a fickle thing. We think we remember it all, but we don’t. I popped in one tape, and a relative who had been gone a long time appeared on the screen. I jumped, then squealed with excitement, happy to see them. There you are, I thought. Staring at that frog in the pond like it’s the best thing since . . . sliced bread. (Yes, I went there, cliché and all.)
Before long, I was hooked and couldn’t stop watching, laughing along with jokes over thirty years old that somehow still feel relevant. I tore through the tapes like Chevy Chase stuck in the attic in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.
It had been a rough week in the writing world. Writer’s block with my current work-in-progress (I’m venturing into a straight-up fantasy and feeling lost without a crime to solve, like in my usual stories). More finishing touches and edits to clean up the word count on my speculative pop star thriller. Work on Rebel Writers Volume II and prepping for a growing list of events this fall. Mostly, I was exhausted and wondering why I bother with all this writing stuff anyway.
But then came the last tape. It was labeled: Sarah’s Award Ceremony, 1995.
Award ceremony? I won an award? I didn’t even remember.
So, I slipped the tape in, and there on the screen was my favorite English teacher, Ms. Rose, beaming with pride. She was handing me an award for my first publications—two poems published in a national writer’s journal called The High School Writer, and for winning first place in a separate national high school writing contest. (Check out the photo below—we’re blurry, can’t see my face, but just look at her smile!)
Ms. Rose had signed my yearbook: “I expect to read your novel one day.” When I published All These Threads of Time, I tried to find her because I wanted to send her a signed copy and a thank-you. Sadly, she had passed away. I thought I was too late.
But looking at the video now, I saw her smile again. I remembered how she pulled me aside in class to talk about my writing, how she encouraged me to share my work with the world. She wasn’t the first teacher to recognize my skills, but she was the first to give me the tools to do something with them.
Something in me whispered that day: she knew. And I wasn’t late at all—I was right on time.
Because with God’s timing, we’re never late.
So what’s the lesson here? Why am I sharing this with you?
Because if you, like me, have ever wondered why you keep chasing that dream, why you stay up late and wake up early for it . . . keep going.
It’s all about the journey. You might not understand the why right now, but one day you will. And trust me—it will all make sense.
XOXO,
Sarah Crowne
P.S. Here are some of my upcoming events (with more being added every day!).
We are still anxiously awaiting the Debbie Gibson video release—so excited! In the meantime since we’re going nostalgic in this Substack, let’s celebrate 38 years of Out of the Blue!
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