Sorting memories

Can you believe that this is the first full week of another year? I really try to avoid making resolutions that get inevitably broken. I try to not start planning ahead or make long lists and big goals. But there is something in our culture that tries to imagine positive changes because of our made up calendar. So here I am, sorting and thinking. 

It was over 30 years ago when my mom passed away suddenly and all the mementos  and photos she had were passed to me. Two years later her older sister also passed, and somehow all the additional family history she had taken control of was lost. These are stories for another day. Along with my brother passing about 7 years ago, and more things passed to me. Now I have time to actually sort it all, but it is overwhelming. 

I really have a scattered poet brain. I think in big connections and symbols and meaning. I can be wildly creative. What I can’t do is track when things happened. I struggle to remember years beyond a few key ones. I’m terrible at names. I hate detailed research. The stories I tell reflect this. 

But I have these boxes, and even more boxes of several generations of negatives. Most aren’t dated. Many of the people aren’t named. All the people who might know are gone. I’m the only one with a clue left for many of these. I’m determined to tell the stories I know and not pass on the mess. And so the sorting starts. Duplicates and things that are complete mysteries need to be discarded. Those that matter need to be digitized, edited, cared for, and given context. 

Oh, and so many truly horrible photos. Stiff, posed, people squinting into the bright sunshine. So many of the images reveal so little of the story. Yet the cost of film and developing at the time placed limits on what was preserved. And so maybe it is exactly a creative wild storyteller like me that is needed for this task. 

And so, there it is, my commitment. I don’t commit lightly, when I do it may as well be a sacred oath. But I will keep sorting my family's past and my memories. I will keep writing and sharing here, in my small disorganized pieces. Also, I have seemed to settle into a Tuesday pattern on this, which may be useful to know for those who are following. It may not always be all the facts, and there may sometimes be more of my truth than people are comfortable with. 

I really appreciate comments and feedback. You would not believe how much joy it brings me when someone is inspired to share something I wrote. Even more, if someone is moved to share their own stories, I’m over here doing a little dance. 

Stories matter. History matters. I don’t know what will stand and be preserved over time. Our stories are like love letters to a future we hope will happen. Thank you for sharing this journey with me.