Why didn't I WRITE MORE?
Documenting life's travels has always been with me in a pictorial sense. My children always referred to me as the paparazzi. I have taken thousands of pictures over the years. Back in the day, I used an "Instamatic" camera that held the film in a cartridge that I mailed to Kodak, 10 days later an envelope of snapshots would arrive in the mail box. Then I graduated to a manual load 35mm Pentax that a friend gave me. That was certainly more challenging to use, but when I got the settings right, the prints were beautiful. I am sure real pros still load film, and don't rely on digital imaging, but I think anyone can agree, we have come a long way baby, documentation of events is unbelievable.
Thinking of the community's question, "If you could go back in time and change one thing in your life, what would it be?" My first thought was, "absolutely nothing." I am a blessed soul, my heart is full, I have many that love me for who I am. A #silverblogger😎🤓😁
I am, who I am, I live life with all the gusto I can muster on any given day, I try not to judge others, I forgive easily and I never give up hope, I'm a fighter.
My journey through life has been an interesting one, at least I think so. I've always assumed those that mattered to me would know my story. But what about my past ?
Maybe I should have drawn the family tree, at least filled in the names of my grand parents and great-grand parents, my roots, so my children and grand children would have this History at their fingertips.
A tree is only as strong as it's roots, our roots start with family.
Why did I not write it down?
Was I so sure my memory would not fail me?
So far, my memory has been faithful to me. Back in 1968...
I was in 8th grade, my best friend gave me a journal. Thrilled, I happily put on paper my feelings and thoughts, I would also do small drawings, cutesy stuff, lots of hearts and flowers. But as a young woman and as a mother, time kept slipping through my fingers, days turned into weeks, then months, then years. Very little was written.
I wish I had written a few notes, or key words with dates and places.
Shame on me, write it down.
I have documented some special events, I have written down in hard covered books some of our story. I will re-double my efforts to leave a trail. There is no better feeling than knowing, our story will be told for generations to come.
If it boils down to one thing I would change, it would be documenting life through words in a journal. I want whomever holds that journal to feel my love, no matter how old the paper is.
When my mom passed away, I was lucky enough to inherit her knitting basket. Although there were no written words, there was a profound feeling of her presence, her knitting needles and her half finished projects touched my soul.
My daughter Erica is getting married Oct. 2, 2021, just around the corner. She asked me to find some old photos of her grand parents to display at her reception. She wants a "in memory of" table to honor those who have since passed but are still in our hearts.
Sweet gesture, I thought. So up in the attic I went to search the numerous boxes of photos. I pulled out some great pictures but what was really interesting was this hand written letter from my grandmother to my mother. My grandmother, who passed away when I was just 4y/o, was visiting her daughter (my mom's younger sister) in North Carolina. My aunt had just given birth to her first child and was living in Army housing in North Carolina, while my uncle trained to be a paratrooper.
Love the hand writing, so intimate. Check out the posting date.
Oct. 15, 1956, Fayetteville, N.C.
Dear Elaine, (my mom) "How's Mike? (my older brother)
Love mom, (my grandmother)
You could send a letter across the country for 3 cents back in 1956. There were no zip codes. But of course, it took a much longer delivery time.
My mom in 1937, age 6.
So now I am on a quest to preserve some more of our story. To share the memories even when I am gone.
I cherish these hand written messages, I to will share these books with the generations to come.
Derrick was my third son, born during the 1983 super bowl, January 31st. No kidding, my water broke at half time. I was bummed, it was a good game but the halftime show was what I waited for, loved the glitz and glamour, the music and showmanship . The million dollar commercials added to the excitement.
I know that I have told this story to Derrick, but what about his children, my grandchildren, will they know this little fact about their dad and their Grammy? They will now.
Memories of this nature are priceless and recording them will allow others to enjoy them as well.
My mom would give books as gifts to her grand children. She always added her personal touch , her writing.
I repeated those warm gestures, and sent some memories back her way.
I will write in books to tell our story, that I hope will inspire my family, to live life to it's fullest, to know and feel the wonders of this world. To appreciate nature, and accept life with all it's warts.
Our love has bonded us together for all time. Life will go on, even after death.
Although I can't turn back the clock and record in detail some of the memories that have faded by the passing of time, I have started to leave a trail of my life once again. I hope to continue doing so, both in journals and here on the #hive blockchain.
When the time comes...Remember
Life is unfolding as it should.
BE INSPIRED, SHARE THE LOVE.