My brother called me on the phone one day, oh, around 20 years ago. This was quite a surprise as my brother always hated phones. It was nearly as surprising that I answered, as I'm not really much for phones either. Also, I hadn't talked to him since we had completed my mom's final business over 10 years earlier. We ended up talking for a couple of hours, comparing family stories and memories. I'm here to tell you, we had some wildly different versions.
The stories we tell are powerful. We share history, wisdom, humor. We also tell lies. I don't think most of us intend to lie, but we each have our own mythology. We may think we are humble, but deep down we want to be the hero of our own life. So we tell the stories through our own eyes, or the stories others have told us. It may not be all the facts, but these stories still hold truths worth sharing. If they didn't, we wouldn't keep sharing them.
My brother passed away a few years back. In fact, all my older family members are gone. I still have some cousins out there someplace, but I started with so many of them and mostly lost track. I have a lot of good stories and a pile of photos I need to sort through. I think they are worth passing on.
My family has never been the type that made history books, but we have been bystanders through a lot of history. It may be my own inner desire for significance; my own need to be the hero in my own story. I have friends who say they like how I write and are moved by what I have to say. So if you have stumbled here not knowing me personally, I hope you find some meaning in my words.
Oh, and be warned. I'm not going to try to keep everything chronological. I'll try to keep it clean, but life can be messy. I'll do my best to add a new post at least once a week, but I'm retired and not good at schedules. And I might just throw in one of my poems from time to time.
And please do comment even if it is just to say hi, because the weasels in my brain sometimes can be really mean.
Speaking to that theme of wanting to be that hero, I want to white that perfect, insightful, humorous and pithy comment. Problem is, I just woke up. Regardless, I am glad for this, and I love you. Thank you, Mom.
ReplyDeleteWrite* not white. I must assume that was auto correct, but it felt dishonest to delete and rewrite.
DeleteFamiliar with those weasels. In my head, they are thought monsters ready to devour my truths. But that is a story for another day. I am happy to have a place to read your thoughts, and grateful to learn anything you want to share. I'd like to know it all really, but I know that's simply impossible. When you're feeling that unusual desire, and by no means is this pressure, a phone call is nice too, as sometimes I just miss your voice. The ones I live with that are not your descendants, are the ones who have contributed to my thought monsters, so I've heard quite enough from them already. love and hugs
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