A FAMILY STORY TOLD BY ITS HEIRLOOMS
What is a family history if not a collection of stories, including the lore passed down from one generation to the next? Not only our genes, but the items passed down, the faces preserved in portraits and photos, tell our family story. It is an unending, ongoing story, to be continued by ensuing generations. It represents not one single branch, but multiple branches from whom we are descended, with each one contributing to whom we are. This story begins with ancestors as far back as the 18th century, but the today of this story may well be the yesteryear of another teller down the line.
My parents were driven and defined by their past, and made concerted efforts to have their children appreciate that past, by repeated storytelling, by an assemblage of portraits arranged into trees so one could easily see the ascendance, and by instilling in their children and grandchildren a knowledge of and appreciation for the items that had been handed down through time and generations to finally arrive between our walls and continue on down. They taught us to see each generation not as owners but as custodians of family heirlooms, with the responsibility of passing them on and consequently keeping the family vibrant.
My parents were driven and defined by their past, and made concerted efforts to have their children appreciate that past, by repeated storytelling, by an assemblage of portraits arranged into trees so one could easily see the ascendance, and by instilling in their children and grandchildren a knowledge of and appreciation for the items that had been handed down through time and generations to finally arrive between our walls and continue on down. They taught us to see each generation not as owners but as custodians of family heirlooms, with the responsibility of passing them on and consequently keeping the family vibrant.
Photo Memories
We all harbor visual and emotional memories, vivid photos and surges of feeling from single moments in life, lodged in our minds, that crop up unexpectedly from time to time, during sleepless nights, or prompted suddenly by a word, thought or image. They are those “I’ll never forget the time” moments. Some of these are fuzzy, from deep in memory. And with some, we cannot even be sure if they are our own, or created by others’ telling them to us. I have many of these, each of which holds a story from a moment in life, which I share here.