With the holiday only hours away, I'm finding myself waxing nostalgic for days gone by...stories told, adventures experienced, dreams unrealized. I'm wishing that I had been more prepared for the holidays, and able to relax and enjoy them. Document them.
But alas. I'm not even done shopping, and the handmade gifts that I had hoped for may end up being valentines.
For now, I'll settle for sharing a holiday memory with you.
A few years back, my mom, two friends and I decided to go to a grand bazaar in our area. It is Victorian themed, with carolers, folks dressed in Victorian attire, shows, and buildings full of booths, offering wares of every type imaginable. Many were handmade, and not only provided excellent gifts, but inspiration. It was always a day to bask in the glow of the holiday.
We began the day by hitting some major retailers along the way. Two of us had tween aged children, and rarely had time to shop. We would rush into Wal-Mart or Target, list in hand, and fill a cart in no time. We would fill the trunk, then rush off to indulge in a day of perusing the aisles of trinkets at the fairgrounds.
The two ladies were already at the car as Mom and I left Target. I could barely push my laden cart. I had filled my childrens' wish lists and found a few goodies for myself, too. I was quite pleased and jubilant to be so organized.
And then I spied the bell ringer.
"Oh, no," I lamented. "My purse is buried under all of my stuff. How will I dig out change to add to the bucket?"
"It won't matter. I have given all month to every bucket that I've passed. I've given to local food banks, and bought gifts for the angel tree. I don't need to give this time."
"But HE doesn't know that. He's going to see my cart loaded with Christmas and think that I'm a selfish snob!"
"No, I can't dig out my purse. I'll just push past him in a hurry and he won't notice."
"But he's a man 'of color'. He'll think that I'm discriminating against him! He'll think that I'm being racist!"
"It's okay. I'll flash him my warmest smile and wish him a hearty Merry Christmas, and he'll know that I'm a good person and that I've given elsewhere, that I respect him as a person and am not just ignoring him."
I put on my best smile and gazed into his deep brown eyes.
"Oh, no! What if he is offended by Merry Christmas! Maybe I should say Happy Holidays like they tell us to at work! Be politically correct!"
By this time, I'm staring at him and need to speak soon before he thinks that I'm a stalker or something.
"But he's wearing a Santa hat. He MUST be Christian, and I can say Merry Christmas. SPEAK, Jaycie, speak! Just say something!"
What came out was: "Merry Hoppity!", a rather awkward and mangled version of Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays thrown together.
But I said it with conviction, and it was too late to try to recover at this point. I held my head high and pushed my cart swiftly past him as if this was my standard greeting. I was barely holding it together when Mom caught up with me about 15 feet later.
"What did you just say to him???" She asked incredulously.
I began giggling so hard that I could hardly push my cart. Tears streamed out of my eyes as I tried to explain without attracting more undue attention. I was afraid to look back.
By the time that we reached the car, neither of us could speak, and we barely caught our breath between attempts to explain our condition to our friends.
It's a story that we love to tell for many reasons, the first being that the mind is a scary place to venture into alone. One should not overanalyze the Salvation Army buckets out front. One should not contemplate the thoughts that occur as we bicker with ourselves in our own minds. And we should never speak until we are sure that we are going to do so in our native tongue. Or at least a reasonable facsimile of. It is also a festive memory of friends, laughter, and the spirit of the season, and nearly always ends with a good belly laugh. No matter how many times I tell it.
Merry Hoppity to all!
Showing posts with label life stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life stories. Show all posts
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Monday, January 4, 2010
Undecorating the Tree
Taking down the tree for me this year has been a strange experience.
I’m the type of Christmas decorator that loves to break out the boxes of ornaments and doodads on Thanksgiving weekend, filling my house with more than enough festivity. I love everything Christmas, everything sparkly…and it can be dollar store or from Macy’s, it makes no difference to me. I leave it all up, including a clock that plays carols every hour, until New Year’s. Then I begrudgingly take it down, glad to have the house clean and uncluttered, but sad to see it all go.
Not so this year.
It was a crazy year for the holidays. Not only had I started a new job, but it was one that required a great deal of time and energy through the holidays to prepare for big events on the job. Two weeks before wrestling season began, Addy the Musician decided to wrestle after all. (Mothers of wrestlers – and daughters of coaches – know that you MUST be prepared for the holidays before Thanksgiving in order to survive, as you spend most of December, January, and February at Tournaments and matches!)
It was more than that, though, as this year was so much harder than even last year in terms of the economy. Even though I am back to work, I have added expenses that have rendered my income LESS than what I was making last year on unemployment. More importantly, I see the signs everywhere that folks are struggling. Business has been sparse and sporadic, and no one knows what will happen next. It is impossible to predict business in any industry, as this is uncharted territory. As such, hours have been cut, budgets slashed in an effort to stay alive through the recession. Many businesses have failed in our area, and others are barely holding on.
It is changing life as we know it. This may seem simple, but I can illustrate my point with scrapbooking magazines. I’ve always subscribed to all of the different magazines, from Creating Keepsakes to Memory Makers and Simple Scrapbooks, Scrapbooks, etc. and anything else that hit the shelves. I love the ideas and inspiration, as well as the creative process. In the last year, most of these magazines have folded. Only the major ones remain, and who knows how long that will last? I have never seen so many cars for sale alongside the road. Even if you had money to spend on Christmas, the stores had bare shelves and limited stock on what they did have. The list goes on and on.
My own family is changing, too. With Tux turning 19 and attending community college, Addy in High School, and Todd in private preschool at his daycare, we are all going different directions. They are all growing up so fast, it’s hard to believe, and I’m not ready for my babies to be all growed up. Tux is straining at the apron strings. I’m not ready to untie him yet. Addy is thinking that he, too, can exert his independence in many ways…some of which are not age appropriate. Todd is the usual toddler, and having been raised with teenage brothers, he can hold his own in an argument – and usually does.
This changing landscape at home was more difficult during the holidays, as they no longer delight in all that is Christmas. Oh, sure, they want the gifts, and everyone sucked up to Santa throughout the month to ensure said gifts. But they didn’t enjoy the décor, or the joy of the holiday. I heard them complain constantly about my clock…which usually brings me joy. This year, I’m not sure if I left it up just hoping that it would spark that spirit in my heart, or if I just wanted to prove that I was still in control by leaving it up. They refused to watch Christmas movies or specials, and I didn’t even try to fill the house with the usual carols.
We have had a longstanding tradition of driving to see the Christmas lights, and bellowing, “HO HO HO!” at the most beautifully decorated houses. Ones that are trying, but not quite there get a “HO HO”, and those that are pitiful receive something along the lines of “Ha ha ho” or simply an unenthusiastic “Ho”. Tux has endured it since he was six, but this year, he simply refused. Addy was too busy. It was nice that Todd got into it, however, so we did get a couple of good nights.
The tree, the lights, the ornaments, the Santa figures, the nativities…all wasted on the boys. They could have cared less.
Perhaps this is normal, particularly in an all male household. I tried to tell myself that as I decorated, but three weeks later when it was time to take it down, I wondered why I had bothered. It wasn’t as if I had a great deal of time to devote to it, but I had because I felt that I needed to be ‘that kind of mother’.
I imagine myself as the defender of our traditions. The keeper of our memories and joys. Each ornament has a story, a special place in our history. The “windows on the World” ornaments that began with “Feliz Navidad”, because I was taking Spanish in high school that year. The god’s eye that I made in first grade. The scratched up bulbs that were on my parent’s first Christmas tree some 45 years ago.
Each ornament has it’s own storage box, labeled with a description so that each is returned to it’s own place. I provide years and givers if they were gifts. I look forward to the night that we decorate each year…a Christmas movie playing on the TV (Usually “Christmas Vacation”), drinking egg nog, and talking about each ornament and favorite memories associated with it. I decorated alone this year.
I took it down tonight by myself. The family did come out to watch “National Treasure”, which I put in. That was a nice surprise, as they are usually so busy with their own activities. But I was the only one to admire the stunning ornaments like the Christopher Radko Mickey Mouse, the hand painted baby Jesus on a golden ball. The only one to reminisce about the candy cane that Tux made at his very first cub scout activity, or the gingerbread man that is dressed like Elvis that Addy made at school. To recall the time that Hubby whisked me off for a surprise visit to Las Vegas the beginning of December, and the Excalibur ornament that I bought to commemorate it. To ponder the true meaning of the season looking at the kneeling Santa before the manger.
And yet, some of those memories were painful, too. I found ornaments that were made during times of my life when I thought that I had good friends - nearly family - only to find out that I meant nothing to them when the bumps came along. I found myself trying to decide if I should keep them, or if they were just too much to hold on to. I've moved on, and I have a new life, one that does not include these toxic people in it, and I'm happy now. Did I want to keep those reminders of those that had hurt me so deeply? I eventually decided to keep them - one more year. To allow myself to really heal and evaluate them a bit more objectively. They didn't make the cut to the tree this year, but I wasn't quite ready to throw out so many years of my life forever, either.
I’d always thought that these things would be cherished as I cherish them. Not just the ornaments, but the memories. I thought that it would be something that I lovingly passed down to my sons and their families as they grew up. That they would look forward to sharing this each year. That even when I was old and grey, I would still decorate the tree with my grandchildren, and share these special times.
My mom didn’t even put one ornament on her tree this year. We usually do Christmas morning at my house, and dinner at hers. This year, we would be eating dinner at the Fire Station, where my dad was on duty. She just didn’t see the point. She put up half of the ten foot tree – which left it a bit misshapen and short – with simple strings of lights and called it good. No Christmas village. Just the sad tree.
She may not have missed putting up her decorations, but I did. Her ornaments are as special to me as my own, as I see my past hanging on the branches. I see my history, my memories, my childhood. Will I give up, too, when I get to that stage of my life?
It was especially poignant to me, as the older boys are balking at some of the other things that I have tried to teach them throughout the years. Not only our faith, but matters of family and personal growth. I am seeing that I am not going to accomplish all that I had planned as a mother. Yes, yes, I realize that they have their own free agency, and NO child is going to live up to the ideal that we set for our goal. (heaven knows, I have disappointed my parents plenty!) Faced with raising another child, I am torn between providing the same level of parenting that I did the first time around for Todd…or should I simply relax and not try so hard to be the perfect mother? Will it hurt less if he doesn’t become the man that I was hoping to raise, if I don’t put that much into it? Will my children even look back once they have left the nest? I know that every mother worries about these things…at least, I believe that they do.
I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be normal. I’ve had a depressed mind for most of my life, as near as I can tell, and I wonder if I am the only one that pines for such sentimental things as I do. Am I the only one that mourns the end of an era? That notices when the details are being lost in the shuffle, and the effort is no longer there?
Right now, I’m chalking it up to fatigue (work has really been draining this last two weeks), and the usual blues that come after the holidays. I’m blaming it on the weather. I’m throwing it out with the last year, ready to go into 2010 with a brighter outlook. But that doesn’t mean that I didn’t bid a more heavy hearted farewell to each ornament, wondering if I would want to bring them all out again next year.
I think that I’ll finish cleaning up and allow myself those moments of melancholy…just for tonight. Tomorrow is a new day, and I’ll rejoice in the fact that the clock is silent and so are the complaints, the family room is now 9 sq feet bigger, and my shelves and tables have all been cleaned and shined before returning their regular décor.
I will no longer have to check the nativities to make sure that the animals are not wandering off (thanks to the teenage boys) or that the Santas are standing up and not dead after Todd shooting them with a Nerf gun. And if nothing else, it gave me a good excuse to write for a minute… something that I’ve missed terribly and enjoy very much.
It’s all in perspective.
Here’s to 2010!
I’m the type of Christmas decorator that loves to break out the boxes of ornaments and doodads on Thanksgiving weekend, filling my house with more than enough festivity. I love everything Christmas, everything sparkly…and it can be dollar store or from Macy’s, it makes no difference to me. I leave it all up, including a clock that plays carols every hour, until New Year’s. Then I begrudgingly take it down, glad to have the house clean and uncluttered, but sad to see it all go.
Not so this year.
It was a crazy year for the holidays. Not only had I started a new job, but it was one that required a great deal of time and energy through the holidays to prepare for big events on the job. Two weeks before wrestling season began, Addy the Musician decided to wrestle after all. (Mothers of wrestlers – and daughters of coaches – know that you MUST be prepared for the holidays before Thanksgiving in order to survive, as you spend most of December, January, and February at Tournaments and matches!)
It was more than that, though, as this year was so much harder than even last year in terms of the economy. Even though I am back to work, I have added expenses that have rendered my income LESS than what I was making last year on unemployment. More importantly, I see the signs everywhere that folks are struggling. Business has been sparse and sporadic, and no one knows what will happen next. It is impossible to predict business in any industry, as this is uncharted territory. As such, hours have been cut, budgets slashed in an effort to stay alive through the recession. Many businesses have failed in our area, and others are barely holding on.
It is changing life as we know it. This may seem simple, but I can illustrate my point with scrapbooking magazines. I’ve always subscribed to all of the different magazines, from Creating Keepsakes to Memory Makers and Simple Scrapbooks, Scrapbooks, etc. and anything else that hit the shelves. I love the ideas and inspiration, as well as the creative process. In the last year, most of these magazines have folded. Only the major ones remain, and who knows how long that will last? I have never seen so many cars for sale alongside the road. Even if you had money to spend on Christmas, the stores had bare shelves and limited stock on what they did have. The list goes on and on.
My own family is changing, too. With Tux turning 19 and attending community college, Addy in High School, and Todd in private preschool at his daycare, we are all going different directions. They are all growing up so fast, it’s hard to believe, and I’m not ready for my babies to be all growed up. Tux is straining at the apron strings. I’m not ready to untie him yet. Addy is thinking that he, too, can exert his independence in many ways…some of which are not age appropriate. Todd is the usual toddler, and having been raised with teenage brothers, he can hold his own in an argument – and usually does.
This changing landscape at home was more difficult during the holidays, as they no longer delight in all that is Christmas. Oh, sure, they want the gifts, and everyone sucked up to Santa throughout the month to ensure said gifts. But they didn’t enjoy the décor, or the joy of the holiday. I heard them complain constantly about my clock…which usually brings me joy. This year, I’m not sure if I left it up just hoping that it would spark that spirit in my heart, or if I just wanted to prove that I was still in control by leaving it up. They refused to watch Christmas movies or specials, and I didn’t even try to fill the house with the usual carols.
We have had a longstanding tradition of driving to see the Christmas lights, and bellowing, “HO HO HO!” at the most beautifully decorated houses. Ones that are trying, but not quite there get a “HO HO”, and those that are pitiful receive something along the lines of “Ha ha ho” or simply an unenthusiastic “Ho”. Tux has endured it since he was six, but this year, he simply refused. Addy was too busy. It was nice that Todd got into it, however, so we did get a couple of good nights.
The tree, the lights, the ornaments, the Santa figures, the nativities…all wasted on the boys. They could have cared less.
Perhaps this is normal, particularly in an all male household. I tried to tell myself that as I decorated, but three weeks later when it was time to take it down, I wondered why I had bothered. It wasn’t as if I had a great deal of time to devote to it, but I had because I felt that I needed to be ‘that kind of mother’.
I imagine myself as the defender of our traditions. The keeper of our memories and joys. Each ornament has a story, a special place in our history. The “windows on the World” ornaments that began with “Feliz Navidad”, because I was taking Spanish in high school that year. The god’s eye that I made in first grade. The scratched up bulbs that were on my parent’s first Christmas tree some 45 years ago.
Each ornament has it’s own storage box, labeled with a description so that each is returned to it’s own place. I provide years and givers if they were gifts. I look forward to the night that we decorate each year…a Christmas movie playing on the TV (Usually “Christmas Vacation”), drinking egg nog, and talking about each ornament and favorite memories associated with it. I decorated alone this year.
I took it down tonight by myself. The family did come out to watch “National Treasure”, which I put in. That was a nice surprise, as they are usually so busy with their own activities. But I was the only one to admire the stunning ornaments like the Christopher Radko Mickey Mouse, the hand painted baby Jesus on a golden ball. The only one to reminisce about the candy cane that Tux made at his very first cub scout activity, or the gingerbread man that is dressed like Elvis that Addy made at school. To recall the time that Hubby whisked me off for a surprise visit to Las Vegas the beginning of December, and the Excalibur ornament that I bought to commemorate it. To ponder the true meaning of the season looking at the kneeling Santa before the manger.
And yet, some of those memories were painful, too. I found ornaments that were made during times of my life when I thought that I had good friends - nearly family - only to find out that I meant nothing to them when the bumps came along. I found myself trying to decide if I should keep them, or if they were just too much to hold on to. I've moved on, and I have a new life, one that does not include these toxic people in it, and I'm happy now. Did I want to keep those reminders of those that had hurt me so deeply? I eventually decided to keep them - one more year. To allow myself to really heal and evaluate them a bit more objectively. They didn't make the cut to the tree this year, but I wasn't quite ready to throw out so many years of my life forever, either.
I’d always thought that these things would be cherished as I cherish them. Not just the ornaments, but the memories. I thought that it would be something that I lovingly passed down to my sons and their families as they grew up. That they would look forward to sharing this each year. That even when I was old and grey, I would still decorate the tree with my grandchildren, and share these special times.
My mom didn’t even put one ornament on her tree this year. We usually do Christmas morning at my house, and dinner at hers. This year, we would be eating dinner at the Fire Station, where my dad was on duty. She just didn’t see the point. She put up half of the ten foot tree – which left it a bit misshapen and short – with simple strings of lights and called it good. No Christmas village. Just the sad tree.
She may not have missed putting up her decorations, but I did. Her ornaments are as special to me as my own, as I see my past hanging on the branches. I see my history, my memories, my childhood. Will I give up, too, when I get to that stage of my life?
It was especially poignant to me, as the older boys are balking at some of the other things that I have tried to teach them throughout the years. Not only our faith, but matters of family and personal growth. I am seeing that I am not going to accomplish all that I had planned as a mother. Yes, yes, I realize that they have their own free agency, and NO child is going to live up to the ideal that we set for our goal. (heaven knows, I have disappointed my parents plenty!) Faced with raising another child, I am torn between providing the same level of parenting that I did the first time around for Todd…or should I simply relax and not try so hard to be the perfect mother? Will it hurt less if he doesn’t become the man that I was hoping to raise, if I don’t put that much into it? Will my children even look back once they have left the nest? I know that every mother worries about these things…at least, I believe that they do.
I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be normal. I’ve had a depressed mind for most of my life, as near as I can tell, and I wonder if I am the only one that pines for such sentimental things as I do. Am I the only one that mourns the end of an era? That notices when the details are being lost in the shuffle, and the effort is no longer there?
Right now, I’m chalking it up to fatigue (work has really been draining this last two weeks), and the usual blues that come after the holidays. I’m blaming it on the weather. I’m throwing it out with the last year, ready to go into 2010 with a brighter outlook. But that doesn’t mean that I didn’t bid a more heavy hearted farewell to each ornament, wondering if I would want to bring them all out again next year.
I think that I’ll finish cleaning up and allow myself those moments of melancholy…just for tonight. Tomorrow is a new day, and I’ll rejoice in the fact that the clock is silent and so are the complaints, the family room is now 9 sq feet bigger, and my shelves and tables have all been cleaned and shined before returning their regular décor.
I will no longer have to check the nativities to make sure that the animals are not wandering off (thanks to the teenage boys) or that the Santas are standing up and not dead after Todd shooting them with a Nerf gun. And if nothing else, it gave me a good excuse to write for a minute… something that I’ve missed terribly and enjoy very much.
It’s all in perspective.
Here’s to 2010!
Thursday, July 30, 2009
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?
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?
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...”
Monday, June 8, 2009
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 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!
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
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.
“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.
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