Discovering History

People's stories. Stories of life, history, feelings. I have always been interested in the past. Even when I was little and my grandmother would tell me about when she was little. I liked to look at the pictures, touch objects, collect old things. Both sets of grandparents were Mormons. I actually have quite a lineage through both my grandmothers. The genealogical family records have always been something my family has had. Many of the records are just dates, names of places and a few pictures. There is a Richard's family book about my mother's mother's side of the family that is more telling.

Anyway, starting this blog has made me think about telling my stories. It doesn't really matter who cares, who will read them or if they are of any benefit. It matters that I do it for me. Because I really wish there was a place like this for the people that I can no longer touch or hear their voice. I remember when I told my mother-in-law that she should write some of "this stuff" down. She never did and my memory of her stories fades as the years go by. My grandmother was always going to and she did some so I hope to find it and record it somewhere permanently.

I have found some sites that tell stories. I want to go back again and read them all--if I ever have time.

Thinking out loud

Is it dangerous to think out loud? Not only that, but post it for all to see--forever? Just how long will a blog last? Who owns it? Will the words be available for years to come? Will they tell generations yet to come anything at all about who we were?

I wish I had notes from my dad and grandparents to read now. Well, I do. Some letters, a few handwritten things. Actually not much though. Will somebody care to read my stuff after I can no longer write?
Since I was thinking about my dad, I found a picture of him and my mom. It was probably taken about 1995. It looks like they were at Asilomar, near Monterey.

For the last several days I have been following a blog about Tom Hunter ( http://tomhunterblog.blogspot.com/ ) who writes music for children and teaches teachers. He is dying of some horrible brain disease and I have looked for his words, his music and other memories about him. I have found some stuff and I have his CDs. But it has made me think about what we leave behind when all is said and done.

A while ago I had so much I thought I was going to write about. The thoughts were non stop. How excited I was to start journaling. How it is so much different then publishing on a timeline--writing to meet a deadline. Oh the thoughts were just spilling out. That WAS a few hours ago. Right now, all those creative juices have come to a grinding halt. Yeh, this will make for some grand insight in the years to come.

The beginnings of a rambled thought

Everyday, you ought to learn something new. So this is what I am attempting. Do I have anything of importance to say? Probably only to myself. And that is GOOD enough.