Beneath the Wraps

     I’ve always been an advocate of journal writing – but especially now that mom has passed.        After we put my mom into assisted living and were cleaning out her house in order to sell it, my brother, Corey, took mom’s journals with him to Las Vegas and has been transcribing them ever since.   He also took a couple of boxes of photographs. There have been several parts of her journal which have corresponded with unlabeled photos or have provided memories that have had us thinking, “Oh, yea.”      Other passages have given us more insight to our overly quiet dad.   And lately – mom’s emotions about caring for dad mirroring our own with caring for her.   It’s been a rather interesting journey.        Some journal entries often seem boring and it feels pointless to even write about.   Journal entries written by teens can often sound funny or dishea...

         I really did not know my Grandpa James.   I was told that he was the black sheep in his family.   His biological mother died only a week after he was born.   He grew up having made quite a few errors.   He enjoyed smoking, drinking and older woman.   I’m not certain how he and grandma met as he was from Ogden and she was from Panguitch.   I think he may have had family living in Panguitch.   I don’t know.           I would think he hadn’t joined the navy until after he married my grandma as they lived in Utah for almost four years.   My mom was two when the navy took them from Utah to San Francisco          My maternal grandparent’s divorced after my mom had turned thirteen.   But I believe they were still married when my grandfather planted an early seed to discourage my mom from wanting to smoke or drink. Perhaps it wa...

Amongst mom’s journals are more photos of – who are these people? Corey scanned the photos he had come across and emailed them to me asking if I might possible be able to identify any of members.   We didn’t actually know if they were photos from our family or my mom’s stepfather and the only grandpa that we ever knew. Uncle Bruce said he’d be coming to town to visit mom. I wasn’t certain what month he would arrive but said he could come to the Memorial Day BBQ if he happened to be in town at that time.   It wasn’t until we were at the BBQ that I learned he had initially thought he’d come in June, but changed plans for the BBQ. I had told Corey to bring the photos to the BBQ and ask Uncle Bruce about them – as he might be the only one with some clue – though Bruce doesn’t seem like the sentimental type – not at all.   Nor does he really know his dad or his dad’s side of the family – which is where it was decided that most of the photos were from.  ...

That’s how she described her passion for family history: “like a fly to cowpie”.  She had been raised on a dairy farm – it was a natural analogy – though I could think of better ones: “a duck to water” “a monkey on a cupcake” or Roland’s favorite: “like Godzilla on Tokyo”         I don’t even have a passion for genealogy or family research ( from an earlierpost )  but wouldn’t have compared it to manure.   Family History is a good thing and works for a lot of people.   And there are many aspects of family history that I do enjoy – but research is a far cry from being one of them.           It’s not just family history that gets her fired up.  I believe that it is everything that comes her way.  She greets it with her heart which shines in her smile.  I think she may have an even bigger love for life than my sister-in-law, Sunny, whom I truly admire.  Sunny teach...

Today I was looking through some old albums and boxes of photographs.  I remember getting on my mom’s case for having so many pictures in a box and not in an album.  I have come to learn that the box is actually better – or was rather. Remember the magnetic albums that came out in the 70’s?  All that was required was lifting the plastic and setting the photo on page and presto – it was there for life.  Who knew that just twenty years later we would be scolded for ever having considered ruining our photographs by placing them on pages chalk full of acid.  We might as well have put our photos through a shredder. I would say that at least 70% of the pictures could be thrown away.  If not ruined by acid, they just really had no business making it to the album in the first place.  But mom could never bring herself to throw such items away, no matter how blurred or butchered the picture itself turned out.  And by butchered, I mean like the ...

          When I was twelve I took a family history class – only it wasn’t actually called Family History.   At that time it was referred to a genealogy. (Boring name; must be why they changed it) I was the only youth in the class.   The instructor was early 40s – possibly late 30s.   The rest of the class members were all over the age of 50. Things were done on legal size paper.   There were Xerox machines (photocopiers) and pens.   No PAF, Ancestry.com, Google, etc.   I would imagine doing family research is so much easier now than back then. My instructor had been raised in a foster care system and had always had a strong sense of getting to know and understand her family.   It was a very long process. I understand why family history is so important to her.   To have a connection.   And when she did find connections, the discoveries were great.   As an adult she learned that she h...