4 the Record

I was reading Becky Higgin's blog today, and read that she had done a personal history project with the Young Women at Girl's Camp in her area. She has posted a beautiful starting point for your own story on her website. It got me all excited about writing my own!

I am all about keeping a history. I've found that the things that make me the happiest, and the things that make me feel the most fulfilled are all related to record keeping.

A couple of years ago, I was asked to develop a class on personal and family histories for our church. Mom and I brainstormed ideas, and had so many that we couldn't include them all in the class schedule! We called the class "This is your Life" (I was really into the Switchfoot song at the time!), and our teaser was, "Bring your history to life, and Life to your history!"

Each month, we met as a class and talked about some aspect of journaling or histories. Each month, we had an in class exercise, and then if we were willing, we shared these writings. It was so wonderful to hear the things that others wrote about their lives! We got to know one another better, learned things that we would never have heard in other situations, and inspired one another to get writing! I also issued a monthly challenge to be completed prior to the following month's class.

While the classes were not always huge...normal for our area, as we are a small branch and not a full sized ward, and our area covers a great deal of mileage...we always had a good time and left feeling good about our stories.

I'll include some of the information here over the next few weeks. I'd love to hear about your experiences, if you try some of the techniques!


4 the Record - Month One

"Every person should keep a journal and every person can keep a journal."Everyone has a story to tell, so why don’t we rush to tell it? Are we caught up in the rules and ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ that we don’t even start? Is it intimidating...or do we just think it will be boring?Let’s change all of that today!>Why keep a journal or write your life story? Well, for starters, it’s theraputic! It allows you to record your life for posterity. It can help others by offering a view of how we handled the trials and joys along the way. There are many reasons, but the main one being : it’s a commandment! We have been counseled by many latter day prophets to keep our records.

And there are so many ways to keep your personal records that surely you will be able to find a way that suits your style and time frame!

Here are some ideas:

· Your Standards: Journals, diaries, and notebooks are the age-old standard for journal keeping and history writing. Feel free to DOODLE a bit, or add embellishments, ephemera (Ephemera is transitory written and printed matter, not intended to be retained or preserved, such as receipts, brochures, letters, tickets, etc), or whatever strikes your mood. Make it FUN!

· The Technology Savvy — If you are good with a computer, you might want to try computer journaling. You can use a word processing program, or a program specifically written for journal keeping. See www.splinterware.com\products\idailydiary.htm, www.alpharealms.com/journal/ or www.davidrm.com/for examples The advantages here are that they take up little room (burn them on CD!) and can be searched electronically, as well as copied, easily read, and edited as you wish.

· The Shortcuts — Use your day to day correspondence! Save letters, emails, or online posts to tell your story. You are already writing it anyway! Just be sure to write often.

· Be Scrappy — If you are creative and like visuals, scrapbooking may be for you. Try your hand at scrapbooking your memories - -with or without your photos!

· A/V Cool — The very technologically gifted might opt for a video or audio journal. How exciting for future generations to hear your story directly FROM YOU!

· Specialty Journals — Use separate books for special memories, such as spiritual experiences, gratitude, happiness stories, etc.

— at the very least, everyone can take a minute at the end of the day to jot down important events, feelings, etc on a calendar, date book, or desk planner. Quick, easy, but effective!

· Blog It — The new craze is “Blogging”! (A blog — a portmanteau of web log — is a website where entries are written in chronological order and displayed in reverse chronological order. ) See www.blogger.com, www.blogspot.com, or other sites that will host your blog for free. The advantage is that you could develop an audience, which would encourage your daily entries! Friends and family can keep up on your daily comings and goings. This is especially effective if you are dealing with something that will help others, such as an illness or condition.

· Fill in the Blank — Find a book or questions that allow you to just fill in the blanks to record your life. See any bookseller online, and search for “memoirs” or “personal memoirs”.

Now, let’s get started! The challenge for the month of July is to find a way that works for YOU...something that is exciting, easy, efficient, and will inspire you to write often! In future months, we will be talking more about what to put into our personal history and journals, but here are a few ‘ground rules’.

1 There are no rules!

2 There’s no journal police.

3 You don’t have to have perfect grammar.

4 You don’t have to have lovely handwriting

5 It doesn’t have to be fancy

6 It doesn’t have to be in story form

7 It helps if you use archivally safe materials, but something is better than nothing!

8 It doesn’t have to be a travelogue. Write from your heart, not your schedule.

That being said, here are some things that you should do:

1 If you miss a few days...or a month...or years...just start again! Don’t beat yourself up about it, but get back on that horse!

2 Write it now, while it’s fresh!

3 Be true to yourself. Don’t paint a rosy picture, hoping that your posterity will believe your tall tale. Let them get to know the real you. They’ll be much more pleased!

4 Be complete. Include full names, dates, places, and any other pertinent information that the reader might not know inherently.

President Kimball said, "People often use the excuse that their lives are uneventful and nobody would be interested in what they have done. But I promise you that if you will keep your journals and records, they will indeed be a source of great inspiration to your families, to your children, your grandchildren, and others, on through the generations. Each of us is important to those who are near and dear to us—and as our posterity read of our life's experiences, they, too, will come to know and love us. And in that glorious day when our families are together in the eternities, we will already be acquainted."

Next month: “It’s the little things...”

Gambling that is GOOD for you!

I was fascinated by psychology in college…I was originally a psychology major…and although I pursued a career in the most opposite of fields, I am still mesmerized by the human mind. I learned so much in the few classes that I did get in, things that I have used in everyday life, raising children, and most certainly – dealing with others in the world!

One of the most interesting subjects that we covered is the reward systems that shape our behavior. It is so important to provide motivation for folks to behave in a manner that will be most beneficial for the society in the long run. Through poorly thought out plans, well meaning folks have set in place a variety of systems and programs that provide incentive for exactly the opposite. I could go on all day on THAT subject!

But let’s talk about gambling. Gambling is incredibly addictive simply because there is the hint of a reward for your efforts. It is not a guaranteed reward…rewarding every effort…because that would eventually grow old. The subject would tire of the reward, and the behavior would cease or taper off. (AND it would put any gambling establishments in serious danger of financial failure!) It is not a reward spaced at regular intervals, which again becomes repetitive and the activity loses it’s excitement.

It offers a reward that may or may not happen on the next roll…or the next turn of the wheel. Okay, if not THIS one, then the next, or the one after that. It is the randomness that makes it all the more exciting and addictive. We imagine that just ONE MORE will net us the prize. Or maybe two more…and before you know it, you have used all of your resources and the payoff is still not in sight.

(Then, just after you quit, some old lady with a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other stumbles up to your machine, plops in a quarter, and wins YOUR prize!)

It’s called Random Reinforcement, and it is the most powerful of all reward systems. It creates a behavior that is nearly impossible to extinguish.

I am not a gambler. I am cheap, I am conservative, and I just can’t give up my money that easily! But I have my own gambling issues.

I have found an activity that has the same reward system…and is equally addictive. I contribute a block of time, and every so often, I am pleased to be blessed with a great treasure. The rush is incredible! And then no matter how long it took me to achieve that payoff, I am ready to invest that much more time to feel that again.

I’m talking about Family History research. I have dabbled a bit, and just when you think that the river of information has stilled and nearly become stagnant…something pops up out of the depths and you find yourself paddling to the next set of rapids.

I’ve had a great amount of success, all things considered. I have some incredible stories of how I have found information, and how the pieces all fit together so perfectly. I can tell you of the angel hands that I believe have been involved. That is the ultimate goal, to unite with family who have left this earth without completing their lifes’s work. To give them a place in our family tree and remember them. For them, my gambling addiction can be a beautiful thing.

My most recent obsession (should we call it that?) is the Washington Cemetery, the old graveyard that we visited with Hubby’s geocaching group. I am still haunted by the names that I saw there, and wanting to know their stories. I can’t imagine how they came to be so alone and neglected! I want someone to claim them, to share their ambitions and dreams.

My thought is that I could make a website for the graveyard, with a list of names. There are lists out there, but they are not complete! I checked my pictures against the list, and I found at least 27 names that were not on the original list. Maybe someone is looking for them! My hope is to spend some time there, and with the unofficial curator, a neighbor that has fallen in love with the graveyard and tries to take care of it. Maybe we can even flesh out some of the names with their stories.

I’ve started a spreadsheet with the pertinent data…I can cross reference it with any hits that I get on familysearch.org or ancestry.com…usgenweb, anywhere that I can find any data. I can post the information that my cousin, N, has given me. Screenshots of census data, obituaries, photos. I can hope that anyone who might be looking for these names will stumble across it. Maybe even give us more information.

Did I mention that I’m somewhat of an overachiever, too? I have big plans. I have grand ideas. We’ll see if I can find the time to “gamble” on making a connection. Wow. What a payoff that would be!!! N suggests that you spend 10 minutes a day on Family History, and see how much you can accomplish in that small amount of time. I think that I could do that.

Or…maybe stay up all night researching and organizing the data.

See what I mean? It’s compelling!

How is YOUR Family History coming along? What can you do in 10 minutes a day? Can you actually resist that urge to spend the time and maybe stumble across some big find????

It’s gambling that is good for you…and even better for your relatives!










(gravesite of Mary "Mollie" Hanley, and the photo of her parents (William Jackson Hanley and Mary Campbell Hanley that N found)

What's so great about blogging?

So, it’s all the rage and everyone is doing it. But what’s so great about blogging?

That all depends on the reason for your blog, I suppose. I have friends and family members who blog as an ongoing family letter, akin to the Christmas Letter. These are fabulous for sharing with those that you don’t get to see often, and in today’s mobile society – a must to keep up with families that are strewn across the country. And even better, they have pictures and video, and allow the reader to respond quickly and join in discussions of posts. The added benefit is that it is a family history online, viewable by many. Some sites even allow you to have your blog printed and bound at the end of the year, which creates an archival quality memoir. All around win, I say.

There are also bloggers who wish to spread a message – political bloggers, for instance. They hope to capture an audience that will be influenced by their words. They generally have a specific topic or topics that they cover.

Some bloggers do so for their customers. One of my favorites is a photographer that did family pictures for my cousin and her family on Oahu. I checked out her blog to see their pictures, and LOVED it. Of course, she blogs about her photo shoots, which are always fascinating to me as a wanna-be photographer. But she also makes personal comments about things, and is very likeable. You can see her at Natalie Norton Photo

I see the application of this as I watch another cousin begin her landscaping business. She is always noting little things about certain flowers or plants for us…interesting little tidbits that just make me smile. For instance, did you know that pansies are a hearty flower? Then why do we call weak people pansies? It makes no sense! I love her little observations and her photography, and I think that a blog would serve her well to show off what she knows, her personality, and some of her jobs for potential customers. I’m considering my own business, and I’m still trying to figure out a fun blog for this purpose. It is a way of sharing your area of expertise and interesting others.

Probably the most influential blog that I have read is one by Rozanne Paxman of Scrap Girls. I originally began receiving the Scrap Girls newsletter because they always have digital scrapbooking freebies, and I’m cheap. I love the freebies to beef up my digital stash. I became addicted to the newsletter, however, because of the “muses” that Ro writes. She is a writer that has something to say on a variety of subjects, and usually with some sort of life lesson. Of course, this ties in with her business of selling digital scrapbooking supplies, as it inspires us to scrapbook things that we might not have thought of. Her blog is a continuation of that, in which she not only inspires, but offers solutions to organization and a variety of other topics.

It is this format that I chose for my blog. I want to write. I need to write. I love to write, and years of raising children and writing only technical manuals has taken it’s toll on my ability. I believe that we are given gifts to use for the good of the many, and if we do not use them, we lose them. I love to be able to write to touch others, and help them to ‘think outside the box’, if you will.

I try to pick a subject every day and write an essay. It’s not as easy as it sounds, but it makes me think all of the time. I am constantly trying on new subjects for size, running them through the old meat grinder to see if they look good. I compose sentences and paragraphs in my mind all day, selecting those that seem to strike a chord, rejecting ones that fall flat.

What is really remarkable is that it forces me to think differently. I see the big picture in everything. How does this really affect my life? What is the lesson here? How can I use this to reach out to others? My greatest goal would be for RESONANCE. I would be thrilled to know that something that I said or observed made you stop and think…perhaps even reevaluate your views, your goals, your place in life. To see the big picture and not obsess about details, but embrace the glory that this life has to offer.

Ultimately, I would like to say something profound. It hasn’t happened yet, but if I write enough…I’m bound to hit something!

On a professional level, it retrains my mind to write. Because I have one day to conceive, compose, and post my thoughts, I don’t have time to produce endless drafts. I have to think on the fly. I have to pull it all together-- introduction, explanation, and wrap up—in a brief amount of time. Every day, it gets easier.

On a personal level, it reminds me that I DO have something to offer. You’ve read that I was recently paralyzed by my lack of self-esteem. I began the blog anonymously, quietly, so that I could see if it would work for me. As I’ve opened up and invited other readers to my blog, I have gotten some excellent feedback that has been so good for me! I have a ‘readership’ of sorts, as I see that each day, I get about 20 readers. Some days more, some less, but it’s somewhat steady. That means that some of you are coming BACK again, after reading my blog. You have no idea how much that means to me. It restores my faith in the fact that each of us has something to offer, and that I am not a complete failure and social pariah as I thought.

I know, I know, that’s dramatic. Unfortunately, that was my shattered mind. I cannot believe how far I have come…how far I had fallen. I am in constant gratitude for my return to health.

And as I noted when I began this blog, my hope is that my experience might touch someone else. I scoured the internet when my premature baby was born, looking for stories of others who had experienced this. I devoured every word, learning as I read. It helped me to understand my own feelings and struggles, and to realize that there was light at the end of the tunnel.

I welcome your comments and love to hear your thoughts on any subject that I discuss. I invite you to share your own stories…whether you do so on my blog or in your own journals. If just one of you is inspired to write, to try something new, or gains perspective, then I have been successful.

And I gotta tell you, success is a beautiful thing!

When Pigs Fly

I’m sure that you have heard the joke by now…the one that says that some world event would happen when pigs fly…and now that it’s happened, sure enough…SWINE FLU.

Aren’t you glad that – so far – the Swine Flu, or H1N1 virus, has been a bit of a joke itself? Do you even realize how terrifying it could have been if it had not been pathetic?

My great grandmother died in the Flu Epidemic of 1918. I’d always heard this, but never quite understood until I was an adult. I wondered how the flu, a seemingly benign bug that confines you to your bed for a few days, but is only serious in the weak and infirm, could kill a vibrant young mother.

Anna Fairchild Miller was living a good life. Her husband was railroad engineer for the Santa Fe Railroad, well respected and established. She had two beautiful little girls that were 4 and 6. She was young, and healthy, and had her whole life ahead of her. That was until the “Spanish Flu”, as it was known by, came to visit in her small hometown. She and her husband both became ill, as well as the nurse that had come in to care for her and the girls. Only Anna died, thankfully. To this day, we have not found a grave for her. It is likely that we never will.

1918 was a time of war, and the entire country was primed to support our troops. The government had taken this to the extreme, disallowing anything to be printed in news papers that might demoralize our fighting men. We certainly could not broadcast news of a flu so virulent that it often killed within 24 hours, especially our young, strong men and women. The lack of information allowed the virus to sweep across the globe, leaving death and loss in it’s path. My grandmother was left without a mother. Thousands of other children were robbed of both parents, left as orphans.

The way this virus presented was the key to the rate of destruction. It chided the immune systems of the most vivacious age groups into overreacting. This shut down essential bodily systems, causing a death by suffocation, or lack of oxygen. It didn’t prey upon the weak – it took our most energetic.

It was unrelenting, sweeping across the globe, killing perhaps 100 million over the course of a year. Anna died in the tail end of the pandemic, when our resources were most depleted. Doctors and nurses had been lost as they struggled to keep up with the demand, only to fall victim themselves. There simply were not enough mortuaries to handle the overload of bodies that filled the towns, and bodies were hurriedly buried in mass graves. It is said that if you lost a family member, you simply set them out on the sidewalk, where a roving crew would pick up the dead and dispose of them. I’m sure that no records were kept of these hauls; it was all that they could do to just keep up with the bodies for sanitation reasons.

One small town in Utah, I believe, had the right idea. They locked the town up tight when the flu was spreading across the country. By keeping outsiders out and waiting until the bug had worn out it’s virulence, they escaped major loss.

I absolutely take the flu seriously, including the latest scares with bird flu and swine flu. I get flu shots every year, and I believe that everyone should. After reading the book “The Great Influenza” by John M. Barry, I am convinced that it is our patriotic duty to do so. He explains in detail how the virus spreads, how it kills, how it mutates and weakens, and how it can be thwarted if it is not allowed to run rampant. Something to think about.

I wish that more had been written about the subject, but little remains of that time. As I said, the government did not allow open discussion of the virus. Personal accounts were non-existent except in military or health records. Those who suffered did not want to remember this time, and those who remained were too shell-shocked to do so. I can imagine that it was a terrifying time for everyone. I wonder if my grandmother and her sister were aware that their mother was ill, and that they could lose her. I’m not even sure how long she was sick. Then to see their father too ill to attend her funeral…they must have worried that they would lose him, too.

I tend to see death dates and try to match up this time with some event in history. Most notable are the sinking of the Titanic in 1912 and the Flu Epidemic in 1918. Both were of great interest to me, although for different reasons, but because both were so integral to our history as a culture. Each of these events changed us in an inexplicably profound way, changing the course of our society in the process.

I found this grave at the old cemetery that we cleaned on Sunday. It was for two little twins, just three years old, who died within days of one another in 1917. Too early for the flu, which began in March of 1918. Surely, if they died of illness, it must have been something contagious, as they died so close to one another. Or an accident, that perhaps took one much more quickly than the other?

I am a memory keeper, a preservationist by nature. I want information to be recorded, shared, and readily available. I hope that the family of these twins have recorded the stories of these individuals so that at least they remember them, and the lives that they lead. I obtained a copy of the list of those buried on that property today, and I’m so excited to research them a bit and see if I can find out more.

I wish that we had more information about Anna, who incidentally grew up without a mother herself. I’ll save that story for another time! (I’ve got plenty of them!) You can read about Anna in an article written by my aunt at “Days Past”, a historical society in Arizona.

We are so blessed to have so much information available to us! Through the magic of the internet, I was able to identify and flesh out the stories of the family pictures that we were given recently. (see Preserving Artfully) This research would have been far to cumbersome and time consuming without this vital resource! The countless hours spent by volunteers who are seeking out this information and providing it in a digital format that is so effortlessly shared with the masses is staggering.

And we have such tools to record our own histories! We can assure that we are not just a name on a headstone…to be wondered about, speculated about, and ultimately forgotten. We can record our memories and our stories in many formats…from scrapbooking to diaries, online journals (see LDSJournal.com), digital formats, forums, and of course…blogs. I am writing, which makes me happy. But I am also sharing my stories, and leaving an indelible impression on the world around me.

Are you making sure that your story is told? That the stories of those that you love are recorded forever? Take some time today to write something down…copy a story or two off of your Facebook page, and add it to your family history. Read about an ancestor, then share it with your children. Or post it here, I LOVE stories! (can you tell??)

That’s it for today, I have some names to look up!

Rest in Peace

‘Rest in Peace’ does NOT mean that one should be buried and left alone.

Yes, I know that I’ve said that I’m not really good about going to visit graves. And that is true of my loved ones, the ones that I know are in a well groomed graveyard, right where we left them. But what if their graves were unattended? What if tree roots were allowed to burrow through the graves, and headstones toppled willy nilly? If no one even claimed to own the graveyard, so that they didn’t have to be responsible for it’s care?

I might be inclined to change my mind about visiting dead.

My husband is an avid Geocacher, which is a modern day treasure hunter, of sorts. They use a GPS to locate treasures hidden by other Geocachers, posted on the internet by their latitude and longitude coordinates. It is a fascinating sport, which takes you to fascinating places. I tag along sometimes to take pictures of the area. The ones that I enjoy most are the ones that teach about and are designed around the local history.

Geocachers are also very good people. They organize gatherings that not only teach and inspire, but also provide service opportunities, such as “Cache in, Trash Out”, where they remove trash from remote areas that have become littered.

Today was a Geocache event at a graveyard, and we were to clean up and restore the grave sites. I expected a remote, small, family graveyard. One that was inaccessible or had only a few residents. We have attended gatherings of this sort before in small graveyards, and they are always so interesting.

I love to tour old cemetaries, with their worn head stones and simple plots. The names and dates are intriguing to me; I want to know their stories…how they lived, how they died, who they were. I can wander for hours, letting my thoughts wander to distant times and trying to envision who these people were.

I was unprepared for what I saw today.

A graveyard located less then two miles from the center of the town…abandoned and neglected, unclaimed. Ravaged by storms, overgrowth, and time. Headstones that had been felled by trees, buried under rubble and weeds, or worn smooth by the elements. How did this happen? Who owns this land, and why has it been forgotten?

A picturesque farmhouse stands at the bottom of the hill from the graveyard, bright against the lush landscape. The owner, whose name I missed, was grateful that Geocachers had come to work this day, as she and her family had tried for years to maintain the area. Winter storms with winds up to 120 MPH in this area had brought down ancient cedar trees, littering the resting place of these souls. She had contacted the city, who noted that no one claims this land. No one is responsible for it’s care. She – we’ll call her Carey – had obtained permission to have the trees removed and to dispose of the wood. A youth group had come to remove much of the debris.

Carey told us what she knew of the graveyard, next to which she has lived for many years. Legend has it that a VIP had buried his 17 year old son in this grove of cedar trees, many years ago. He then opened the land for others to lay their loved ones to rest. It is hard to tell when the earliest graves were dug, but the most recent one that I found was 1987.

Granite headstones dot the hillside on each side of the road. A fenced area boasts a concrete block reading “FOE 1631”.

As we cleaned, a man arrived, having heard that crews had been in to clean up the tree falls. He was surprised to find us cleaning up; Tom had uncovered his grandparents’ headstone just minutes before. They were in the fenced section, which he explained was a burial place for those who were members of the Eagles Club. His uncle or father had to join the club in order to have the grandparents buried there.

Just up the hill, our friend Dan was placing a fresh new cedar fence for a plot that had been overgrown. It had been well cared for, at one time. It had been fenced, although the fence was rotten and moss covered. Artificial flowers were placed lovingly at the base of a tattered white cross. Worn as they were, he was restoring them to the small vase that he found in the weeds as he pulled them. He had wondered about who might be buried there, without any clues.

This man hurried up the hill, commenting that this was the very grave that he came to see. What a coincidence, that he would come at that moment! He told us that the grave was that of twin girls who had been stillborn. Not having been given names, the parents had placed the white cross in remembrance.


I found a head stone that had been engraved with both the husband and wife’s name, although only the wife had been buried. His death date was prepared with a “19”, the two remaining digits to be chiseled after his death. They had never been added. Is he there, but the headstone had not been updated? Or is he buried somewhere else? And if so….why?

A young service man, a private, from the inscription on the simple stone, died in 1941. A white cross and a faded, torn flag were being choked by weeds. We swept off the marker and tried to clean the face, with little progress. We weren’t sure what to do with the flag, so we left it, tattered as it was.



I had a fantastic day. I got some great shots, both before and after the cleaning, and spent a great deal of time kind of soaking in the names. I got to talk with some really awesome Geocachers. We had a BBQ lunch, with everyone bringing something. By the time that we left, things were looking much better.

I felt haunted by the discoveries, however. I wanted to rush home to put the names into an internet search engine, and see if anything came up. I wanted to know more about these people, whose families seem to have all but deserted them. Are they remembered? I wanted to go back, to do more to restore the peaceful setting. I wanted to visit these people and make sure that they are never again forgotten.

My husband was reading my mind. “I think that we should go back sometime,” he said casually. “we can bring a bucket and brush to clean the headstones…”

I couldn’t have been more thrilled. “a weed eater,” I added, a bit too enthusiastically. “and maybe some flowers.”

He agreed. We would stop at the dollar store to buy silk flowers to spread amongst the graves. And a flag. Our soldier deserves a new flag. I think that we’ve got ourselves a date!

Remembering those who serve

One of my favorite childhood memories was of a Fourth of July Parade on our street. Sadly, we lived in a small town, and there was no city parade scheduled. I am resourceful. I planned my own parade.

My brother was to ride his bike, pulling a float behind him. The “float” was a box filled with dirt, if I recollect correctly, and sported one of my dolls holding a baby. She was a war widow. How I knew about war widows at that time, I’ll never know, but there she was. A cassette tape recorder played a rousing rendition of patriotic music sung by yours truly, recorded earlier. I followed behind, twirling a baton. We both dressed in red, white, and blue.

Our parade went all of the way up the street, which was less than a block long, and back again. Never mind that no one was there to watch. One neighbor came out and was thrilled with our parade and took pictures of us. Maybe no one was home. But we were doing our duty for our country anyway.

Another wonderful memory is of a show that we put on as cousins one summer. The big finale was a number in which our stars danced on a table and we threw rose petals as we all sang “You’re a Grand Old Flag” at the top of our lungs. What a great song that is! So rousing! I still sing it occasionally at the top of my lungs.

We’ve always been a patriotic family. We believe in this country, and the ideals that it was founded on. We love the stars and stripes. When Tuxedo Boy was about 5, he saw a flag vest at Wal-Mart, shopping with Grandma. “We have to get one of those!” He said. “My mudder would WOVE one!” He was right. I loved that vest that he gave me for my birthday.

My home is decorated in Americana. I was afraid to do it at first, thinking that I would wear it out, get sick of the Grand Old Flag. I haven’t! In this home that we have been in for seven years, we were lucky to have had an Eagle nest hovering over our backyard. We have watched the baby Eagles learn to fly, and watched the parents return year after year to reign majestically.

We are not a grave-visiting family. My extended family does so, but it’s just not something that my immediate family took up. We believe that memorials are something that should be celebrating the life of someone, rather than the death. They are not in that grave, anyway, and we can commune with them and be grateful for them anyplace. We’re also a thousand miles from most of the family graves, so that may have something to do with it!

We don’t wait for Memorial Day to remind us to be grateful for the sacrifices that have been made on our behalf. We are truly grateful, every single day, for the families who have given much to maintain our way of life.

There are those who lost their lives fighting for the United States…my grandmother’s brother who died at the Battle of the Bulge. I don’t think that she ever got over that loss, nor did my great-grandmother. My husband’s great-grandfather came home intact…at least physically. His scars were emotional, and his family said that after his return, he would sit on his mother’s lap and she would rock him. He was over six feet tall. He accidental death shortly after is somewhat questioned by his family. Perhaps the pain was just too much to bear and he took his own life at that time. An uncle who returned from Viet Nam, never to speak of his experience there. A friend who died in the Gulf War, leaving behind a beautiful widow and two equally gorgeous baby girls.

Our current military continues to sacrifice. My brother has taken his turn in Iraq and elsewhere throughout the world, leaving behind his family, as has a cousin that recently came home. Each time they leave, it is understood that they might not return. They prepare for such an eventuality…and always hope that this time, it might not be. We have gratefully, thankfully, been spared that pain. I can’t even imagine how I would cope with that loss! But that does not mean that their family…and extended families…have not suffered.

His children have spent long periods of time without him. His wife has had to be a single parent many times. Their relationships are strained as the coming and going is dealt with, the distance to be overcome. They are often unable to plan basic family vacations, for fear that these plans will be changed at a moment’s notice.

The day to day strain of the military is also a sacrifice. They never settle in one area for too long. They have to make friends quickly in each area, only to leave them behind very soon. They learn to keep in touch with those that are no longer available to you every day. Their home is never their own, and may or may not fit their home décor.

And all so that we can continue to enjoy the freedoms granted us by this country.

We are thankful for each and every one of them. The ones that go TDY, the ones that stay home. The MP that keeps my sister in law safe on base while my brother is away. The wives who band together to make life bearable for one another and the children that they share. For those who served many years ago, and the ones who do so today.

We have a dear friend and adopted family member who served in France. He tells of a time that they were on duty and heard music coming…a group of local youth had made cakes (in a time of flour rationing) and came out to bolster the American troops that were there to protect them. He then got tears in his eyes when he talked of how France has forgotten what the Americans did there. So many of our men never came back from those fields.

In the recent batch of family pictures that I have been deciphering, there is one family that is eluding me. Franklin T. Brown, Sr, died in March of 1945 in Germany. I have a beautiful picture of his family, a smiling wife and two adorable boys. The boys would still be alive, having lived some 60 years without their father. I have a photo of his gravesite. I don’t know when he was born or his parents, even his wife’s name. I did find the location of the grave. He is buried in Luxemborg. Even his body was lost to the family.


Yes, it’s true that they are not truly there in the grave, and that gravesites are not the only place to memorialize someone. But how heartbreaking to not even be able to say goodbye. Communication was not the same as it is today. His wife may not have heard for days or even weeks after his death. She may or may not have had any contact with him during the time that he served.

I am appreciative of today’s technology that allows our service men and women to freely communicate with their loved ones. Email, webcams, digital photography and videography allow them to share experiences on both sides of the conversation. Our service folks get to take part in their family’s life, and talk a bit about what they are doing. We have come so far.

Someday, I’ll find out the name of the pretty lady who raised those two boys without Franklin. I may even find the little boys whom I have so many pictures of. I hope that their lives were healthy and happy and that they were rewarded in some way for the sacrifice that they made for ME.

365 days of Memories

I’m sure that you all know what a “365” project is…it seems that I was the last to hear about and jump on the 365 bandwagon! In the scrapbooking world, it is all the rage this year, thanks to Becky Higgins’ inspiration and kit. I’ve found that it’s also popular in the photography world, on a different level, and I believe that it might have many applications in our lives.

The basic premise is that you take a photo a day, every day, and scrapbook them in a special album. The standard is to scrapbook a week on a two-page layout, and in addition to Becky’s kit, there are many digital alternatives. That is the route that I am taking, as it allows me to very quickly scrap these photos in a beautiful format.

There is plenty of room for interpretation here! You can focus on whatever aspect of your photos that you wish…if you want to improve your photography skills, if you want to document the growth of your children, if you want to spotlight more of your daily life than you normally would in a scrapbook. I’ve heard of 365 projects that are entirely self-portraits, 365s for photo editing. It’s entirely up to YOU…what is important to you, and what you want to focus on.

My 365 is very flexible, but it allows me to scrapbook some quick little things that I might have otherwise gotten lost in the shuffle. Like when the Baby learned that he lived on Harbor View Loop…but he said it was “Harbor View Loop de Loop”.

I’ve also acknowledged my love of coloring – and my newfound skill in shading techniques! Digital scrapbooking is opening an entirely new world to me, the un-artist.

I’ve left a record of the equipment that we use these days. One day, these things will be old fashioned and clunky, and we’ll look back and laugh. For instance, we used to load computers from cassette tape!

I don’t even have a picture of the old cassette players that were prevalent when I was young, but they have a place in my memories. These gave way to boom boxes, then walkmans, CD players, and now the MP3 player. The ‘cell’ phone used to be huge and very militaristic, and now they range from mobile computers to tiny little things that slip in your pocket.

I’ve used it to work with my photography skills, as you can see in this photo of the Baby and his Hot Wheels. Not only did I show how he plays with them and his joy in doing so, but also did it in an artistic way.

And sometimes, I show off some of my favorite photos. This photo of a dandelion gone to seed in a field of dew-kissed grass is one of my best works. I was lucky to catch the sun at just the right angle, and worked to make my depth of field as shallow as possible to blur out the grass.

I can see other options for 365, too. What about 365 days of BLOG POSTS? 365 days of happy thought? 365 days of counting your blessings? 365 days of sketches? Saving 365 days of news headlines? They don’t have to be pictorially represented, and they don’t even have to be pretty. It’s just an opportunity to record our history little by little…I’m 20 weeks in and still keeping up with the workflow. Wish me luck!

I can’t think of a better way to spend my year!

People Matter

People Matter.

My grandpa taught me this lesson years ago with a bracelet. He was a jewelry maker, and someone had brought him this bracelet to melt down and reuse the silver content. They wanted a brand new pendant or ring, and this would work nicely to provide the silver at a reduced cost.

He refused to melt it down. He used his own supply of silver to create their order, and brought the bracelet to me.

I love bracelets, so of course, I was thrilled with a new trinket. It was beautifully crafted and had an old-world charm to it. I was merely a teenager and didn’t understand what he was teaching me at the time. It took me a few years to truly understand the significance of the bracelet.

What he saw in it was something different. There were names etched in each link; someone’s family or loved ones that they wanted to keep close and on their mind.

“You can’t melt it down,” I remember him saying. “These names are people that someone loved. You can’t just throw that away.”

Never mind that we had no idea who these people were. Grayce, Pop, Freddie, Maggie, Mary Jane, Joanne, Jerry, Janette, and Bobby. We don’t know where the bracelet came from – a pawn shop? Flea market? Thrift store? Family heirloom? What adventures had it already experienced before it came to me? Where were these people? Were they even still alive?

My grandpa knew that people mattered.

He proved this every day in his life. He always had time to help someone, no matter who they were. He had a busy busy life, well into his later years. He made jewelry, he built cabinets, he did volunteer work, built dollhouses, he just had a lot to do. He never made much money in the work that he did for others, that wasn’t the point. He let some pay him for his work, but it wasn’t always a requirement.

And he accepted people, no matter what. He had a modge-podge of grandchildren and great-grandchildren, some inherited as my cousins married spouses who came with ready-made families. He loved them all as if they had been his blood kin, anticipated and born in the usual ways. He never differentiated by saying that they were “step” this or that, or “half”. They were simply his grandchildren. He never offered an explanation as to how they became to be his family; he didn’t feel that it was necessary. That they were a part of the family was enough, and they held equal ground with those of us who had been there since the beginning.

He worried about us all, and when it seemed the world was against someone, he was there to be FOR them. He once told me about my parents’ early days, when they were mere teenagers and found that I was on my way. My mother’s parents were enraged, my father’s mother was indignant.

“I took their side,” he said, “Because they had no one else to stand up for them.”

He did what he could to make their marriage a happy event, and not a shotgun affair. He welcomed my mother into their family with love.

I think of him when I see old photos. I always wonder about the person behind the photo; what did they love, what did they fear? How did they live their lives? There is a bit of my grandpa in me as I horde old photos, even if I will never even know who they are. I have to avoid the photo bins in antique stores. I have the urge to buy every one, just to give them a home. I am completely unnerved that anyone would throw a beautiful photo away just because they do not know the story or person behind the image. I simply cannot discard a photo because it has no explanation. It is “people”, and people matter.

I still wear my bracelet, after all of these years. Sometimes, I wear it because it is a stunning adornment to whatever I am wearing. But most of the time, I wear the bracelet because it reminds me of a loving grandfather that always had welcomed any relationship with another human being. A man who valued people more than things, who refused to turn his back on anyone. It helps me to remember always that people and relationships are more important than anything.

It also gives me comfort to know that no matter what, my grandpa would love me. He’s been gone for 17 years now…and not a day goes by that I don’t think of him. I miss everything about him. We were not just family, he was my friend and I valued his opinion very much. I looked up to him, admired him. But for all of my admiration of this great man, he would love me even if I disappointed him. He would love me even if I wasn’t perfect. He would love me if I was flawed beyond comprehension. That is a rare attitude in today’s world…it is too easy to cast someone aside when they no longer serve a purpose in your life. Grandpa didn’t cast anyone aside, he didn’t write them off. He knew that people mattered.

And I have the bracelet to prove it!

Preserving Artfully

As I was deciding what to write about today, I read this on a digital scrapbooking site that was offering a freebie:

“I preserve myself, my family, my faith and the records thereof at all times as artfully as possible.” (found at http://www.preservationarts.com/)

It says exactly what I was thinking about!

First of all, I am a record keeper. I write. I interpret the world by recording my thoughts and feelings about what is happening around me. I want to leave an indelible view of my world behind for my children. I don’t want them to ever wonder who and what I was, or what I stood for.

Second, I am a scrapbooker. Somewhat reluctantly at first, but that’s another story. I am now a bona fide, dyed in the wool scrapbooker…tradiational, hybrid, digital...I use them all. I love that I can not only leave words, but an art piece, as well. Even if that art piece is not perfect, it adds another dimension to the words that I leave.

Every day, I document my family and our activities in a 365 Project. I take hundreds of photos a month, and scrapbook the most precious ones.

But most of all, I am a keeper of things most important. I cherish my family history, and in fact, history in general. My husband and I have become the record keepers in his family, as no one else has taken an interest in the artifacts of the family. Old pictures and mementos all find their way to our house, where I lovingly keep them.

So far, I haven’t been as organized as I would like in cataloguing them, preserving them, identifying them. As a working mother, I had very little spare time. Now that I am unemployed, it allows me to spend more of my day in these pursuits, and I am thrilled!

A couple of weeks ago, we opened boxes of shells that my husband’s family had left to us. They were a collection left by his step-great-grandfather’s sister, who had no posterity. The story gets more interesting.

Inside the boxes were these old photos and news clippings. Not much, but enough to pique my interest in who these people might be. Two of the clippings were obituaries of the William H Brown family, and provided some clues as to how they may have been connected to May Brown, whose shells we had attained.

I pored over the obituaries one night, immersing myself in the details offered by these meager summaries of the deceased person’s life. I learned that Olive died many years before her husband, who later remarried. I learned that her brother was living near them at the time. I learned that sometime before William died, one of their sons had also passed on.

Soon, I was filling a Word document with all that I knew about the family. I jumped on the internet to see what I could find on Ancestry.com, familysearch.org, and with a Google search. I eventually started a new family file on my Family Tree Maker software to accommodate the growing information that began to pour into my view.

Through the Family History Center at the LDS church, I was also turned on to HeritageQuestOnline.com and the new Family Search for LDS members. I cannot even begin to describe the fantastic resources offered in these sites!

Through census records, I was able to fill in more detail: Olive’s brother, Enos, and his wife, Ellen, had lived nearby, also. They had no children, but I was able to find their wills and learn that Ellen had listed all of her worldly possessions and willed them to various members of her family. This allowed me to add a whole branch to the family tree, and get a glimpse into what was precious to her through her descriptions.

Olive and William’s daughter, Florence, had not married. I found that she had died in Port Townsend, WA, where my husband’s family was located. I couldn’t quite get the connection of Florence to the Browns that I knew, however.

We visited my husband’s grandfather, and he was able to fill in some bits and pieces. One of the most important was that Florence had been known by the family as “Brownie”, and she was no relation whatsoever. !!?? She was a business partner of “Lukey”, who turned out to be May’s mother, who had an entirely different last name than my records showed. Apparently, she had married two or three times, and died with the last name of Lucas. Her first husband was a Brown, although no relation to Florence.

I could go on and on with the story, as it has unfolded before my eyes. I now have 48 members of Brownie’s family filled in, and have many more to connect. I am now down to a few photographs that have yet to be identified. And all of this has happened in about two weeks.
By using what few clues were left, I have been able to flesh out a story that otherwise might have been lost. So many members of the family had left no posterity…sad in and of itself, but these people might also be forgotten...the worst tragedy imaginable. People matter.

I know that beyond the veil, there are helpers guiding me along. Information that I have looked for but never found has at a later time appeared almost without effort. Brief writings on the backs of photos have given me invaluable clues into who the people were, and their relation to the family.

I am excited to take this information and begin to preserve the memories artfully. To make them interesting and exciting – real – to my children. I want them to see these people as I see them in my mind’s eye. Vibrant, living individuals who loved, hurt, and struggled just as we do. Strong pioneers who forged their way through a world that was in some ways so much harder than the one that we live in, and yet in some ways so much simpler.

I know that no matter what beautiful papers I choose, or what format I present these facts and pictures, it is important that the words convey what I feel. The rest is all art, to decorate and celebrate these lives. Nonetheless important, but not the main story.

Preserve something today. Be it a simple ritual that you perform regularly, a long lost family member’s memory, or something adorable that your children have said. Do it artfully, so that it fulfills not only the need to preserve, but the need to create. And so that future generations will know who and what YOU are.