Monday, July 18, 2011

The Past

I've been thinking a lot about the past again. My family's past, specifically, as I've been making friends with my grandmother's "Heritage Scrapbook".

There is an entry in my journal that sums up the emotions I've been feeling lately, so I'm posting it, with a couple revisions and clarifications. (This entry was written last September when we were in KY for the first time in forever, to go to the Creation Museum and visit family also since a lot of my father's family comes from there.)



"We are in Kentucky. [...] We went to the annual [family] reunion. The highlight of this was seeing great-aunt D- (my grandfather's oldest sister). We set on her porch for a while, the porch of the house her (late) husband built! (Though, as she said, there have been improvements made.)
And as I sat there on the porch swing, I started thinking about old people & how many stories & memories they have & how they are our tie with the past. And once they die all their stories & memories die with them. One more tie with the past is severed.
It makes me wish I could just spend time with people like Aunt D- & my grandparents & ask them to tell me stories of their life.
Where are we without the past? I say I hate history [as a subject in school] - I don't. I hate textbook history. I don't just want to know about impersonal, large battles. I don't want to know about dreams of the nation. I want to know about the individual battles of every day. I want to know the personal dreams that the generations before me held. I don't want to lose our connection with them."


Does anyone else ever feel that way? It makes me wish I had a stronger inclination to be a biographer or something. Now I always make sure to pay close attention when my grandparents start telling a story. I don't think I remember often enough how blessed I am to still have all my grandparents alive.

As I mentioned, I've been looking a lot at my (maternal) grandmother's "Heritage Scrapbook" lately. My brothers and I spent the night at her and my grandfather's house yesterday because my parents and older sister were both gone. I adopted the scrapbook for the night so I could spend more time with it, hehe. I took some pictures of some of the photos and thought I'd share a few. (Sorry the quality isn't the greatest.)


This is my favourite picture in the album. It's my great-grandmother (or my mother's mother's mother :P) in the 1920's when she was dating my great-grandfather (the man next to her, obviously). The funny thing is, nobody remembers who the little girl on the right is. My grandmother asked my great-grandmother when she was still alive and she didn't remember either.
Still, I love this picture; it just screams 1920's and I love that era.




This is my great-grandfather's family. Yep, he had 11 siblings. I'm not sure when it's from... late 1910's or 1920's is my guess. He's in the back row, in the middle (he's the same fellow in the picture above).



And this is a picture of my grandmother and grandfather in the 1950's before they were married!


They were so cute. :)


Anyway, I hope everyone is having a lovely summer and has a great new week!

Friday, July 8, 2011

a missed connection of minds

He put down the stack of my photographs he'd been flipping through. "I didn't know you were such a good photographer."

I still wouldn't look at him. "That's because you don't know anything about me."

"I know that you are a lonely person."

I look up startled, wondering if my loneliness glistens from my eyes.

He taps the stack of pictures he just put down. "Most of your pictures are of nature. The only photos that contain people are self-portraits or crowd scenes where no one is distinguishable."

Heat sears through me, heat of the indignation that he, of all people, bared the truth so effortlessly.

"You should have been a detective," I snap.

Oh! What makes this way? I never wanted to be a porcupine-heart.

Just leave. I plead in my mind. It's not that I mind his presence so much, though my heart is beating uncomfortably fast, and my limbs feel twice as gangly. I'm just afraid any moment I will burst into tears. I don't want him to see me cry. (Though maybe my heated tears will melt this lump of ice in my throat.)
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She must hate me. She wants me to leave, I can tell.

Her discomfort is practically radiating from her, maybe that's why I feel so warm.

I shouldn't have stayed. I should have left the moment I saw she was the only person in the empty art room. My mother has always said that I don't know when to give up. That may be true sometimes, but I do know I should give up now.

She's right, I don't know her. But I've never wanted to know someone so much, and to be known. Then I could tell her the something that desperately wants to be said:

"Yes, I surround myself with people and parties. Yes, every moment of my life is stretched to the maximum with gaiety and noise made by myself and other people. And I'm not a photographer so there is no evidence to support this, but... I'm lonely too."
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I can hear him heading for the door.

(I turn the knob and look back at her taciturn figure.)

I can feel his eyes boring a hole through me. Go on - go on with your wonderful life, leave me and my pathetic self alone.

(Her face is obscured by her dark hair. Perhaps I should...? But I'm just a coward and I open the door.)

The shutting of the door sounds like a soft apology, a sigh of lost opportunity.

Goodbye.

Friday, July 1, 2011

Letters never sent. (Vol. II)

{~Vol. I can be read here, if you're so inclined!~}

Dear Filing Cabinets at the Clinic Where I Volunteer,
You scare me.
Especially the shelves containing SA-ZI.
I don't think you can handle many more files.
If you ever get angry, please do not spill them all on my head.

With apprehension,

Me
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Dear S-- (or the lady who works at the back desk of the aforementioned clinic),
You have the most soothing telephone voice I have ever heard.
Seriously; it's beautiful.

Your admirer,

Me
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dear Chocolate and Peanut Butter,
You are truly a match made in heaven and your deliciousness is dangerous to me.

Hungrily yours,

Me
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dear Library,
It's been over 2 months now...
I miss you.
I don't think you really need to be "renovated";
I love you just the way you are!
Don't worry, the other library will never replace you in my heart:
you will always be my Library.
See you next year...

With sadness,

Me
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Dear Perfect Stranger,
I miss you,
or at least the intrigue you brought to my life.
I don't suppose I shall ever know your name now.
It hardly seems fair since you know all three of mine.
Ah, well.

Quixotically yours,

Me
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Dear Muse (AKA "Marjorie"),
Well, I am happy that you have returned, and bearing such lovely gifts too.
It's weeks like these that make me regret how often I express my dislike of you.
I apologize for calling you a "fickle fribbler" the other day,
I meant it in the most affectionate way possible, I assure you.....

Your Dearest Frenemy,

Me
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Darlingest Blog Readers,
HI!
This is just to say I am going on vacation this weekend, starting tonight.
Actually, my dad has no vacation time (new job!!!) so it's a staycation. Meaning, we will be at home for the most part or doing fun things nearby.
But my sister advocated no computer usage (which is a good idea, despite my reluctant participation), so I won't be on here commenting &c. till Tuesday maybe.
Try not to miss me, hehe!

All my love and a little extra,

Me

P.S. I'm not sure you all have any idea how much I love and appreciate each and every one of you! <3