I haven’t posted a blog in
quite awhile, not from a lack of ideas though. My mind has a continual blog
running through my mind. How it doesn’t all get typed up is beyond me.
I went to a Volunteer
Appreciation breakfast this morning. I love volunteering and I love being
appreciated, I also happen to love The Parenting Place (enough to bake for
their silent auction two years running now), so I was excited to attend. They
had a great inspirational and to me, motivating speaker, which is probably what
is leading me to writing tonight. She calls herself a personal historian, you
can hire her to interview you, and she’ll write your story, memoir, or family
history for you. I love the idea of this, but I’d miss out on the writing portion
of the project. It’s true I haven’t written in awhile, and I have missed it.
I think about the power of
the written word, especially in its handwritten state and that is the one thing
my blog is lacking, but when I began the blog I told myself that I would still
try to journal and take notes on my kids’ great words using pen and paper.
Beside the dishes I use every
day and the photographs hanging, my favorite inheritances from my mom are the
thoughts and words she put to paper using a pen, most often a fountain pen, and
later in life the fountain pen she bought during our trip to Australia.
The speaker this morning gave
us questions to get “in the mood” for talking about our family history. I
didn’t verbally share too much, but I sure enjoyed the thoughts that were
triggered in my mind.
Think of a relative who
has died who you would love to learn more about. Why do you want to know more
from or about this person? What questions would you ask this person if you
could and why? A sense of relief
washed over me when I thought about the poems, diaries, and journals I have of
my mother’s. What a relief that I can read her deepest thoughts and feelings. I
guarantee you that before I go to bed tonight I will read some of them. She
always liked to ask questions like, what have you learned from me? What do you
remember from when you were younger? As I get older I find myself asking those
very same questions.
Shortly after her diagnosis
of lung cancer I took these questions to heart and collected many stories about
her from friends, family and her colleagues and what I came up with was a
wonderful book to give her for Hanukkah that year. I treasure this book,
especially for the stories from people I have never met, the stories that I
shake my head reading and think to myself, yep that was my mom. I am so
thankful to not only have these stories for my children, but also to have been
able to have given them to her. That book was right up there with in the top 5
best gifts I’ve ever given her; I’m pretty sure her two grandchildren would be
numbers one and two.
