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?