Got an e-mail from Bob after he read my last posting about our puppy Gracie chewing up Paul's hearing aid. He said that it's quite common, that there's a warning in the literature, and you can take out insurance, too. But also watch out for dentures! Okay. None here. Didn't know about the insurance.
Yesterday I started a posting and it went kerflooey. My writing was in italics, it had all sorts of strange numbers and symbols when I tried to publish it. Besides, it wouldn't publish. My posting about Gracie was part of it. Also the above pictures. So I'll try to remember what else I wrote. It annoyed me because I liked the way I worded it. As the old story goes . . . There's always room for improvement.
Yesterday morning I planned on going to Curves, making it my third time this past week. But I promised Paul I would empty out a cardboard box of long-ago items that had been sitting in a corner of our dining room since October, and ended up on the dining room table, along with things to take back to Florida. Florida things were moved to the guest room to be put in the car eventually.
I sat down and started pulling things out and found an 1890's photo album that was falling apart, of old (obviously)people/relatives. I came to the realization that now I'm The Older Generation. I'm the "keeper of the flame". That doesn't seem possible to me. Maybe it's a little farfetched? After all, that was my mother's job. . . But the point is: if I didn't identify those people, future generations wouldn't know who they were, nor how they related to them. These all had voices, made decisions, had life. There was picture of a civil war soldier. Don't know who he was, and I probably never will. But, I noticed in a picture that my mother looked very much like her "Grandma Court", in her later years. I wrote it down. Perhaps other generations will find someone else that looks like her. You never know. And perhaps some time someone will be able to identify that civil war soldier. . .through newer techniques. Who knows.
An Aside: As you know, I love writing very much. I've always typed because I'm a fast typer and can get my thoughts out faster than long-hand. Looking through the cardboard box, I came across an album of type-written letters from me to my folks when I was in college. She and I wrote back and forth every week. My mother put the album lovingly together and gave it to me after I graduated...it was fun to read. And interesting how much I remembered when my brain was pricked.
When I got my first computer in the mid 1990's, I discovered e-mails! It was such fun to write people, receive a message back. To write back and forth. But it troubled me that when you deleted e-mails, there weren't any records. So for the longest time, I would print out e-mails sent me, keeping them in order, in a pile, on a shelf, under my computer desk. I guess you could say I have some "complex." I agree. It's to save written words. I don't know if it has a label and I could go on and on about this. Some people would call me crazy. Paul laughingly said - how come I don't save bills/receipts. Somehow, that's different. (He doesn't know that I used to save them, but got tired of all the papers and clutter it made.) But I digress.
I didn't destory these e-mails: I came across a 1" looseleaf notebook of hole-punched printer paper of e-mails from family and friends. It was fascinating to read because it told me of their/our lives, the same as letters, and if I'd deleted them, I wouldn't have a record of it. These were quite difficult/hard times, but there were happy times too. They happened. It was what it was. It is what it is. I just couldn't throw them out.
So - I noted that through all this, I learned some lessons: Lots of material should go on to the next generation. Some of it is very very old. But not necessarily all. (old) Nor is there a sequence of events that are more important than others.
Life goes on. I read somewhere: To write about oneself, is to live twice. Or forever.
And that's why I do it.
Forgive my verbosity, as I wrote more than I planned. Incidentally, I did get to Curves. . .in the afternoon!
May you have a good day til we meet again.
What's been happenin' in your neck o' the woods?
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