November 21st, 2011


memories inherited

The problem is that they don't translate quite right in tales. Sort of like playing telephone. Bias upon bias. Of course the other problem, the greater problem, is the stories /not/ passed down.
I've pictures now of people I do not know and no names to put with the faces. Just black and white solemn stares. Tin types.
I've also now got some records. Papers. Documents. Just reading a couple letters by an "Uncle Jim" who sounds a bit cranky (can't relate to that at all), slightly poor grammer (again can't relate) and lonely. Reflecting, quite a few of my relatives were alone for much of their lives. They didn't like it. I am alone and I think I am taking it better.
Here's the thing. I asked for this stuff over and over while I was growing up. I was tremendously curious about our family. Zip. Nadda. Now I have bits and pieces and no one to tell the stories behind WHY the damn things were saved.
Not that I don't appreciate what I've got. Tis strange. Are all families so secretive?