Serendipity…My Favorite Word to Live

Have you ever had a gift so completely unexpected fall in your lap that time stands still and you have no words to express the shock and awe? Something that threatens and promises to suck up all of your time and energy, and you can’t help but shout “thank you!” to the Universe for its well-orchestrated conspiracy to put you right where it needed you to get something magnificent done?

Isn’t that serendipity?

Could a starving man stumbling upon a banquet be more grateful than I am?

Last night the heavens opened and dropped a project through the dark night into a stagnating life. Mine.

“Betsy, have you seen what’s in these file cabinets?” my friend called to me from the office. I had the keys in my hand ready to lock up and was hurrying because I was already over half an hour late getting home.

I figured that they were full of useless and out-dated papers that we’d throw away as we made time to get better organized, freeing ourselves of the clutter that had accumulated over the years and had survived the scrutiny of several directors of the Cape Cod Family History Center.

Actually, I don’t think that those drawers had been opened in years.

Three file cabinets stuffed with file after file of original and copied photos of people and places of the area dating back over a hundred years were tucked in the corner of our office. And if it had been a living, breathing thing it would have done a happy dance as we started looking through its contents.

I get the chills every time I think about it.

I really wish we could camp out in the Center and work every day ’til we are done. But, we’ll never be done. Not really.

We will scan the pictures, organize the files as we look for the descendants of the people on the pictures who I know still live nearby. We’ll call the Historical Society and see if they’re interested in copies.

It boggles my mind that we stumbled upon this treasure that has sat right under our noses and those of our predecessors for so long!

Has anyone been wondering where some of their family photos went? How are they going to feel when they get our call telling them that we found them? Are they going to be as excited as we were? Those questions have been hounding me since last night. We can take our time contacting the owners, making sure that the work to preserve them is done before we hand them over. Someone obviously felt that they were important enough to share with the Center that they were filed away for safe keeping. We’ll honor that trust by making simple family trees that we can prepare for Family Search, as well as a free, private account with Legacy Stories that will stay private until we receive permission to make it public.

There are even hand-written and typed family stories in some of the files!

I’m so excited. So is my partner in crime! She and I will probably open up the Center every night of the week until this work is done.

We’ve been sucked in!

If Your Momma Ain’t Intrigued, Ain’t NObody Gonna Be Intrigued!

(From The Princess Bride)

Inigo Montoya: “I do not mean to pry, but you don’t by any chance happen to have six fingers on your right hand?”

Man in Black: “Do you always start conversations this way?”

I love Inigo. He’s focused, passionate, and funny.

Intriguing,too.

Sort of like my new friend, Cathy. In just three meetings with me she has “completed” her 4-generation pedigree and is well on her way to filling in the details of the fifteen family groups.

I always give homework and rarely remember what assignment I gave. I should probably write them down? I’d be a fun teacher. My students would get away with a lot. But we’d also have fun learning, too. Exciting subjects drive themselves. Don’t you think?

Cathy has surprised me two times now by coming into the Family History Center having done hers. She’s amazing. She needs no reminders. We laughed about how tired she was. On Tuesday night we both left the Center and worked on some of her family history puzzles late into the night. She admitted that she had the next day off from work and spent the whole day looking for the link between two great grandparents with the same last name. That was the homework assignment she’d been given that she was so excited to share last night.

“You did?!” I squealed.

“Yup. I found them.” She started talking to herself as she fingered through her files, looking for the one with the goods in it while I peppered her with  distracting questions.

I switched chairs to sit at her right, explaining that I sleep on the left side of the bed, but I’m used to sitting to her right. My friend got a chuckle out of that declaration.

“You mean they were sisters?” I asked.

“That means that their great-grandchildren, one a boy and the other a girl, got married?” I looked at her, waiting.

“”They’re a few logs removed from the wood pile,” she said matter-of-factly, staring straight ahead at the computer screen. Oh, my! She makes me laugh!

 I had to get my cousins chart out to figure out what to call them. From now on it’s going to be hanging in the Center.”Cathy! Your mom and dad are third cousins!” No big deal, but really fun!

It was 8:30 and my ride  had arrived, so we wrapped things up and I went home . While unwinding on the couch, Kyle asked, “What do you DO with people there?” which he followed up with, “I have NO interest in that at all!”

To which I replied, “It’s in the stories, Kyle. You get hooked in the stories. We (Cathy and I) opened up a World War I draft registration record and found out this guy had three fingers on his left hand.”

Kyle just stared at me with a squinched up nose. Guys love blood and guts and action! The kind that Inigo Montoya delivers. I think my son was starting to get it, but he just laughed and shook his head.

But my mind was already off imagining about how it had happened.

‘Cause in the end, that’s what intrigued me the most. And if  Momma ain’t intrigued, ain’t NObody gonna be intrigued!

Ha! What intrigue have you found in your ancestors’ closets?

Family History and the Art of Cloning

Do you have ANY idea how many people are excited to start and/or work on their family history? The answer doesn’t matter unless they all walk through the Family History Center door at the same time with a smile on their face, papers in their hands, and a steady gaze that says, “Help me!” AND they’re all looking at you!

I was sitting with one young woman, shaking hands with four visitors, while saying “Hi! You’re back!” to Cathy (with a C, not a K, I learned)…

And then the phone rang!

It’s quite a challenge to stay composed when you are anything but calm on the inside. I’ve never mastered talking to more than one person at the same time (I’ve practiced for 26 years with 9 children and the only thing I’ve learned is to NEVER make eye contact with anyone but he with whom you are talking. Acknowledge them with a hand wave and a “just a minute” finger, but that’s it or they’ll start talking over everyone else.)

Long story short, I believe in miracles.

I hung up the phone and turned to Cathy who sat patiently waiting for her turn.

“So. What are we doing tonight?” I asked as we pulled up FamilySearch.org  and Ancestry.com. She fidgeted for a minute because she didn’t have an answer.

And then I saw it! “Look at you! You made it!” On her lap sat a perfectly organized accordion folder, full of files that we’d put in piles the week before. Do you know how excited I was? She’d taken my advice and spent a bit of time getting what she had in order.

“How do you like it?”

Cathy was a changed woman. Her confidence had grown so much. She opened the folder and pulled out a file, showing me the label and accompanying pictures for the family that had taken up residence inside. We added a family group sheet to each folder and spent an hour searching for records in one of them, We drew timeline on the front, copied documents and placed them in the folder, updating the family group sheet as we went.

She was thrilled to be able to make some progress where her deceased sister had left off. She was getting closer to her goal of having four generations of her family history documented and ready to share with her sisters when she visits them in August.

Next Tuesday we’ll make an account for her with Legacy Stories. She’ll start with a free one, and we’ll add her sisters so that they can see and share everything she’s working on. We’ll scan and upload the pile of old photos she showed me, and maybe make 5 of the Talking Photos(they come with the free account, too).

We’ll look at The Leave a Legacy program( family tree website) and see if it’s a good fit for her family. If so, we’ll upload her GEDcom file from Ancestry into it.

Everything was falling into place for her. Soon she won’t need me anymore.

And then it dawned on me…

I can be very bold, usually with no warning.

“Cathy? Would you start volunteering here in two weeks?”

You see, there’s no way that two consultants can help everyone. The Center is getting very active. I’m waiting for approval for 4 other consultants, but my gift of impatience got the better of me, and much to the surprise of my friend sitting across the room, I decided to go fishing for the fish sitting right next to me instead of wait for the imaginary ones in the other pond.

“Sure!” she said with a smile. No hesitation. No sign of insecurity.

“The only problem I might have is navigating screens.” she admitted.

“All you have to do is help someone who knows less than you do. Just stay a few steps ahead of them and you’ll learn very quickly.” I assured her.

Done.

It really does make a difference to ask. You know?

With a lot of mini-me’s I can spend more time on MY family history, and researching and writing stories. It’s a win-win! Or a win-win-win-win!!

• I win freedom for other pursuits by training people to do my job
• The Center benefits because when something happens and I can’t show up, the work goes on.
• People are given the opportunity to learn and grow at an accelerated pace, and then give back by serving someone with their knowledge and skills
• The cycle repeats as those new consultants train the next wave!

Easy!!

Now…to apply that concept to housework!

Thursday Night With Betsy

Image website: http://everlastingwanderer.wordpress.com/2011/05/26/obsession-werewolf-aka-mafia-game/

Do you function well after 4pm? I don’t. But not many people know that. My mom is the only other person who admits to that gift.

However…

…it was Thursday night at the Family History Center, and I was furiously finishing the bulletin board in the hallway. I only had to remove 12 staples out of whatever 17×4 adds up to. (I know. It’s not addition. But how else do you say it?) I can do math. But my brain doesn’t function after dark. It’s solar powered.

At 7pm, just as the sun was going down behind my eyes, and I was flipping the switch labeled. “From This Moment On, Watch What You Say and Do Because You Might Regret It,” Kathy walked in.

You know, I have to hand it to fate. I needed Kathy and she needed me.

I almost laughed out loud. Another notebook and pile-of-paper clutcher! But I restrained myself and led her into my office, sat her down, and asked. “Whatcha got?”

After about 10 minutes of searching through her papers to fill in the Betsy-required 4-generation pedigree chart, I started stealing her documents.

People are very possessive of their documents and paperwork, cluttered and disorganized or not. But I had a choice. Either we could both fall into the endless pit of confusion that sucks up time and creates the illusion that you’re working hard, or I could take control and make her relatively stressed out while we got her organized, thus saving us both from a lot of pain and anguish.

Yes. That’s how it feels when you are disorganized. I’ve seen it enough to recognize the signs: forehead rubbing, apologizing, downcast eyes, sometimes even a light sweat as documents and notes are shifted from one pile to the next with hopes that the elusive needle in the haystack magically appears, and a sigh of relief escapes.

I chose the latter and made generation piles where she had to choose which document belonged in which pile and put it there. Then, because I forgot to bring file folders, we paper clipped all of the scanned pictures and documents to the correct cover sheet, labeled with which generation and on whose side of the family (her mom’s or dad’s) the pile belonged.

Then we sat at the computer searching on Ancestry.com and FamilySearch.org, for her great grandfather. I worked the mouse and she typed.

You see, she was half brain-dead, too. I laughed when I saw myself in her. She’d stop and ask, “What was I doing?” when in the middle of typing a name. She would sit back and stare blankly at the screen and say, “I’m clueless. I should be in bed!”

To ease her up a bit I told her that we sometimes do Dairy Queen runs (my friend does), but she said she got enough sweets working at her nursing home down the street and she was staying away from sweets.

When all else fails, break out the food. People get happy and relaxed.

“What do you do there?” I asked.

“I work with Alzheimer patients.”

“Is it contagious you think?” I stared her in the eyes and waited the millisecond it took to register the question. I was just having fun with her, but she doesn’t know me. It could have gone either way.

“Yes! I do!” she roared.

It was obvious that I’d found a kindred spirit when math became an issue.

(I even laughed that statement out loud to my friend who was getting free entertainment from us two computers down.)

Kathy and I both looked at each other and shook our heads in shame and amazement that we could each do the same calculations, agree that we were right, and find out we were both 20 years off!!  I was so amused. “Oh, my! It’s so nice to meet someone else who is number-challenged when night falls!”

We found Great Grand Daddy in the 1910 census right where he was supposed to be with his wife and children. He was farming land in Pennsylvania and his wife was “keeping house.” Note to self: do better with that one.

It was time to go home and I gave her some homework . She was so excited and is coming back on Tuesday night.

I left my wonderful friend to lock up and made my way to the parking lot where I learned that my son had been driving the car. No big deal except he has no permit or license, yet. He’s only 15 and often takes my keys. Note to self: keep keys on your person.

He doesn’t like math either.

Just Make Them Swim or Paddle a Canoe Already!

Claire came in tentatively, clutching her notebook. Kathleen, her sister, was obviously by her side for moral support. We’d played phone tag all day and I was so thrilled to see them walk through the door of my home away from home- the Family History Center.

They talked about Thomas Walsh whose ship’s record and naturalization records were the soup du jour. After an hour of searching I looked at Claire and asked, “What’s the big deal? You know the year he arrived. That’s documented. Why are you stuck on more paperwork to prove it?”

“I just want those pieces of his story,” Claire shrugged.

You have to understand that my body still hasn’t adjusted to staying awake past 7:30 pm in the 6+ months I’ve been doing other things at night, and a telltale sign is how punchy I can get. We had had a blast searching and visiting,  opening documents where a few facts matched, but not enough to throw a party.

So we tried different avenues and approaches and I shared how impressed I was with how their minds had shifted into a detective mode. I’d seen it happen. They were excited to be feeling more independent.

Finally I let them in on a secret of mine. My Piles. I like my piles. They are convenient places to put recalcitrant and invisible people who know where they are but don’t want you to find them. I like to leave them there to let them think. They have to come to terms with their responsibility to help people get their story straight.

I suggested to Claire that she put this little family in a “Floating on a Raft in the Middle of the Atlantic Ocean” pile for a while. They had to get here somehow. Canoe?  There must be a better, more concise  name for it. Perhaps you’ll think of it for me and I’ll pass it on. How ’bout the “Life Preserver” pile? I’ll offer both and let them choose.

We reluctantly packed things up and promised to get together on Thursday night to put together a file system for their documents and notes. We chatted about Family Tree Maker and my reluctance to buy more genealogy software. To be honest, I pondered my resistance to it all night and wondered if I was just being stubborn?

Yes. I was. When it comes to stuff that doesn’t do what I want it to do I stand firm against letting it take up space on my computer and calendar. It’s not that I don’t love what it does for you as far as collecting, filing, and creating documents, as well as charts, maps, and books from all of your hard work. They offer beautiful, functional, important  things for genealogists and family historians.

I’m on another path. I’ve made the transition to Legacy Stories where you can have a personal family tree website. create and share photo albums, stories and videos, AND link them to FamilySearch all while staying in as much control of it as you want while sharing with family and friends. And at less than $10/mo. the value can’t be matched. Just upload a GEDcom (GEnealogical Data COMmunication) file and you’re up and running!

I’ll tell you more about it another time. It’s really cool and is the newest rage. You at least need to know how fast technology is advancing the genealogy/family history experience!

To me it’s all about using the Internet to share and to connect in meaningful ways. The last thing I need is another site that seems like a coffee table book that has had so much love put into it and has to sit and wait for people to be invited to open it. I like an open-door policy. It’s more fun. And if I can have a quality one-stop-shopping experience I’m happy, too! (No matter what, I always have a paper copy, and a GEDCOM file saved in in my computer and on a CD case of emergency.)

So, until Friday (if good stuff happens Thursday night!), take care and Happy Hunting!

P.S. I’m not on the Internet much anymore except for family history work. But I’m easy to contact by email, and if you need my phone number I’ll give it to you there. See ya!

I Ain’t No Mind Reader!

Thursday night was painful. At least it started out that way. You know that feeling of being brain-dead and tongue-tied while someone has just professed their undying confusion and their eyes are pleading with you to fix their problem, but all you want to say is, “You lost me at ‘Hello'”?

What do YOU do?

I smile and silently pray my guts out that we both don’t go careening over the embankment into the “She Has No Idea What She’s Doing” ditch. It works every time, as long as I keep asking questions. But not too many. That could be annoying. It’s a slippery slope.

Here’s what I learned. You are confused. Family history/genealogy can seem overwhelming, especially for us older folks who resisted technology until we couldn’t any more, and are in the process of rewiring the circuits in our brains- the ones that come with the newer models like my 10-year-old daughter who can see the same Facebook game that I see for the first time and knows immediately how to play it, whereas I feel like all of my clicking is going to make something REALLY bad happen.

Second thing I found out about myself? As good a listener and smiler as I might profess to be, I ain’t no mind reader! And I’m not on speaking terms with Alexander who “knows all”, or Zoltar , his brother, which I established in a previous post.

And neither is your computer. If you are going to enjoy genealogy and family history you have to know what you can find to help you on the Internet and what you can’t.

Not everything about a person’s life will be searchable on the WorldWideWeb (unless you blogged about it or added it to LegacyStories.org). I might be able to find out when someone came to America, but not when the tooth fairy collected her first installment of baby teeth from my 4th great grandfather. And that’s important to know!

It took about 10 minutes with each patron to get an idea of what they were seeing when they thought of genealogy so that I could give them a new picture, one that made sense and would never confuse them. Honestly, I felt like I was cutting new paths in the Amazon Rain Forest.

One had gaps in his ancestor’s lives that he wanted to fill with facts. Facts from documents. Facts from documents that may or may not be digitized or put on the Internet, yet. He had to figure out not only what his question was, like, “How can I find my great grandparents?”, or, “Did they own land in the 1800’s?”, but he also had to have a basic understanding of how to map a life and know what type of document would have the answers he was looking for.

I’ve said it before, but here goes again. Timelines. You can read and return. I’ll wait. Once he understood, his searching was a piece of cake. (Exaggeration!)

The other man was dealing with overwhelm. Well-meaning people had given him software that was taking too much of his time to figure out and was leaving him too tired to focus on what mattered to him.

While sitting and talking with him I felt a quiet desperation. When he walked in the door at the beginning of his session I heard him say, “I’m confused, overwhelmed, and disorganized.” Most of us, when faced with those feelings get in our figurative car and drive in the other direction. But he also said ,”I need help. I want to leave something for my children when I’m gone.”

THAT was the motivator. That was the goal. THAT was what I kept bringing him back to when I knew his brain was on overload. We agreed that he needed to simplify and focus on writing his ancestors’ stories sooner than later. And he had to remember to share his works-in-progress, whether it be a family tree or a story.

I showed him LegacyStories.org where he could create his own family tree website to share with family and friends NOW. He would have to learn how to upload a Gedcom file and I promised to help. I showed him my dad’s talking photo and explained how all of his could be scanned and shared, too.  He agreed and was quite relieved to recommit to his main objective of being able to leave something behind that would matter to his family.

I was so happy for him. He’d reached out for some help and had actually helped me! It’s easy for me to get overwhelmed by people’s confusion and to forget that I’m pretty simple-minded…in a good way.

I’m so thrilled that I can’t read your mind, and I’m more than happy to declutter and refocus yours if you want!

My Battle with Gremlins Where I Won!

Michael Earles Carlson US Airforce 1955-58

So, I’m carrying my laptop, microphone, and power cord, this photo (above), and some cookies,  walking up to the front door of my dad’s nursing home, and I’m wrestling with gremlins.

“This’ll never work”

“He won’t talk to you.”

“There won’t be a plug for your power cord, and even if there is he’ll freak out about the microphone.”

“He’ll get distracted and you won’t be able to refocus him.”

I really wanted to follow through with this new project-attaching a voice 0f  someone reminiscing while looking at a photo. A Talking Photo for my account with Legacy Stories. And I knew that if I succeeded with my dad, anyone after him would be a breeze.

I smiled at the receptionist, went up to the second floor, passed the common room where bingo was in full-swing, made my way around the nurses’ station, said hello to a lone woman in the hallway, slumped in her wheelchair, held my breath as some wonderful smells bombarded me, and announced myself to my dad and two empty beds in room #11, Nantucket Sound.

“Hey, Dad! It’s me, Betsy. I brought you some cookies.”

I jumped right in instead of explaining. I asked him if I could record his voice while I was already half-way through setting up my laptop, and he said I could. That was it. We were off and running in a few minutes. He wouldn’t stop talking! I learned to leave the recorder running because a few times he’d said he was done and then started a new story that I accidently recorded over as I scrambled to turn it back on. Editing can always be done later.

A lot of misinformation I’d believed for years was corrected, and I learned so much more than I ever knew about him. Most of it got recorded over, but now I know I can ask him to retell the stories and he will.

One that was lost was his year at the Adirondack School for troubled boys in upstate New York. “You were a trouble-maker, Dad?” “No, my adopted brother Peter was. He was already there. My mother sent me there when I was in the fourth grade.” When I asked why, he said matter-of-factly,” I dunno. I guess she had things to do. Maybe I was in the way.” My heart sank. He lived there for a year and never went home he said. We’ll revisit that experience soon. I want to know how it affected him. I know his mom wasn’t working. “She was loaded,” my dad told me.

When I saw my two boys out his window, back from the playground, I wrapped things up and promised to come back in the morning to cut his hair. I was curiouse if he would let me record him again, and he said that would be fine. We chatted about the Red Sox game that he’d turned off because it was too boring.

He then admitted that he’s bored every day.  That’s the first time he has said that.

And it was the first time I had to cut the visit short with so much more to talk about.

I walked out of his room and down the hallway, passing expressionless men and women in wheel chairs,  hoping to coax a smile out of them when their cautious eyes met mine. They were sitting at the ends of their roads with thoughts in their heads, most of them memories of happier times. And I wondered if they’d let me sit with them and record one of their stories for one of their loved ones?

I walked to my car happy and a lot lighter, a band of gremlins following forlornly behind. They’d failed in their mission to stop me from trying something new and connecting with someone I love in a meaningful way.

They’ll try again. I’m sure. They’re relentless.

I can’t adequately describe the transformation in our relationship as a result of this simple exercise. It’s more than showing a photo and recording memories. It’s about connecting.

Amazing that he has had all of these stories locked in a vault for the 50 years that I’ve known him, and I never heard one of them. Today I transferred them to a new vault that will not only preserve them but make them shareable with friends and family!

 To see and hear the Talking Photo click  here.  Keep in mind that this was my first try and I was thrilled that he was even talking! 

Jack Loves #RushLimbaugh! Is Blind, and Has Stories to Tell!

Do you know how to draw someone’s stories out of them? Do you like to? I’m learning and am always surprised at how eager people are to be known. I’m also becoming more aware of how peoples’ stories teach me and wake me up to the beauty and blessings of my own life.

Two days ago I got a call from a woman who is visiting family on the Cape for a week . She’s here with her husband and sister. She wanted some help with her family history, having unsuccessfully searched for her would-be ancestors in the area.  We did a phone consultation so that I could figure out how I could help her and we agreed to meet last night at the Family History Center where I go every Tuesday and Thursday night.

“Betsy! We’re here!” I immediately fell in love with the three of them, Ginnie, Linda, and Jack, Linda’s husband.

Jack walked in carefully with a white cane, holding  one of Linda’s arms.  His eyes were clouded with a blue-grey film. He was blind. And I was uncomfortable.

We sat down at the computer where we could look at what I’d found for them. I taught them how to navigate the site so that they could continue where I’d left off, and then Linda and I switched chairs, putting me next to Jack.

Poor Jack! He was either going to love me or be very uncomfortable when I was done with him!

I just can’t help myself. I heard the words coming out of my mouth and wanted to kick my nosy twin who resides in my mind and often rules my tongue.

“How long have you been blind?” Did I say that? He’s more than his blindness! Couldn’t I have asked him something else? Something about his vacation? Why, oh why do I say such things without paying attention to that split second of a warning message that says, ” You might not want to know” ?

“Twenty-two years.”

And my overly inquisitive twin continued to dig deeper, ” How?”

Jack tapped his cane on the floor between his legs as he recounted his military service from Vietnam to the Gulf War. He thinks his blindness started after being exposed to chemicals which did their damage over a period of eight months after coming home. He was completely blind by Christmas that year.

I didn’t want to ask, but I had to. It was so obvious in his countenance and body language. “Are you bitter?”

Linda sat back in her chair. I didn’t know she’d been listening. “Yes! Very bitter!” And Jack nodded in agreement.

“Why are you bitter?” That question might seem callous or ignorant to some people, but for a moment, as I tried to immerse myself in his world I  wondered how I would feel being blind after being able to see? Was it hard to be grateful for what he did have?

Jack pondered the question and shrugged as if  there could be no other answer, “Because I can’t see anything.”

It was as if the air from an over-filled balloon had been released. The truth was out. Jack was ticked off. He felt what he felt and wasn’t apologetic for it.

Funny how the truth can set you free. Isn’t it? We had a great conversation after exposing and dealing with the elephant in the room. We talked about his service. He was in Special Forces and wanted to get copies of  his service records. We talked about my dad’s service records that I’d been looking at earlier in the day and how he could order his.

We laughed and enjoyed each other for about 45 minutes, talking about politics and Rush Limbaugh. and how Jack’s diabetes makes Braille difficult to read because he has barely any feeling in his finger tips. He admitted that he needs a new computer with software that would help him stay active in a seeing and feeling world. He has tried everything that I suggested. He really needs help getting to the next level. But he has given up. He’s tired. I get it. There are some things that people need to have done for them. This is one of those things. We’ll keep in touch and see what can be done ’cause Jack has stories to tell, and stories to read. He has an enormous spirit to share.

Jack is a real character. I could talk to him for hours. But my thoughtful twin reminded me that they were there to do some genealogy, so I excused myself and told them I’d be within earshot if they needed me. I hit Jack on the knee and said, “There! They are thoroughly addicted now! Good luck!” I almost felt bad enough to sit back down with him because the two women were engrossed in their searching and Jack couldn’t see what they were seeing. He needed a play-by-play commentary. But that would have been distracting, so I left.

An hour later Ginnie called  for me. announcing they were done. I got teary.  I walked them out after hugs and goodbyes and promises to get together when they come back to visit later this year.

They were so grateful for the help. I have so much more to share with them. They agreed that sharing what they’re learning with family is important to them. But it’s baby steps for now.

I. hate. goodbyes!! I’ll miss Jack. He reminds me of my dad. I’ll miss Linda’s gratitude, and Ginnie’s “Wows!” as new records were found full of new people to research.

I watched them step through the door into the twilight. The sky was so beautiful and the grass was a vivid green. Jack couldn’t see it.  For a minute  I was filled with gratitude that I could see what I saw. And I understood Jack’s bitterness.

I’ve heard it said that when we enjoy our lives we are a gift to those who can’t experience  it as we do.

Today I’ll turn on my radio and I’ll think of Jack.

I’ll look at my family and soak in their countenances, and I’ll remember that Jack has to rely on his memory of his daughter’s and wife’s faces. Ones he hasn’t seen in 22 years.

I’m grateful to have had the courage to get to know Jack, to listen to his stories, and to learn.

Happy Memorial Day, Jack!

Memorial Day: A Flag at Half-Staff

 

“The things that the flag stands for were created by the experiences of a great people. Everything that it stands for was written by their lives. The flag is the embodiment not of sentiment, but of history.” Woodrow Wilson

“On Memorial Day the flag is raised briskly to the top of the staff and then solemnly lowered to the half-staff position, where it remains only until noon. It is then raised to full-staff for the remainder of the day.” (WP)

A flag at half mast. Hmm. So symbolic to me. Most things are.

A life lived with ups and downs, a life cut short in death or altered by physical and/or emotional wounds, a life honored and mourned, lives blessed because of another’s sacrifice.

So many memories. So many stories.

I’ll visit my father this weekend, as I do most weekends. His military service is on my mind right now because Memorial Day is coming next Monday. Memorial Day, sad to say, has never been more to me than a day of parades  and cookouts. This year is different. I want to ask my father about his military stories. I want to sit by his bedside at the nursing home that he never leaves and ask him if he’ll tell me some stories. I want to record his voice as he tells me about the one photo I have of him at that time.

I saw it for the first time on my grandparents’ bedside table at their home on St. Thomas,VI. I remember the cool marble floor under my little girl feet, and the sounds of laughter coming from the  sunken marble bathtub just around the corner to the right of that little table. He was so handsome in his uniform. I felt humbled for a moment as I stared at him, and he stared back at me from 1955-  four years before he was married, six years before I was born.

He was 19.

How did he feel about his service? What were some of his experiences? He’s such a character! I’ll bet he has some fun memories.

When I record his story, I’ll upload it and the scanned picture into my account with Legacy Stories as a “Talking Photo”. Any family member or friend who creates a free account and becomes my friend can then hear the story as my father tells it in his own voice. Isn’t that amazing? And when he dies, and he will someday, I will permanently link that “Talking Photo” to him on my family tree on FamilySearch.org, as I will do for all of my stories and photos of my ancestors. Then anyone who finds him on FamilySearch.org will see that there’s a link to him over at Legacy Stories where there are stories, videos, and photos of him waiting to be enjoyed, learned from, and shared.

When I see the flags at half-mast next Monday, I won’t just think about  my ancestors who served and how important it is to find them, get to know them, and honor them. I’ll think of my father and how he’s still alive to tell me about his life and how grateful I am to have him around to share those memories with him. Those memories are priceless. They are part of the fabric of who he is.

Just like our country’s flag.

And I want to get to know him better.

P.S. I’ll post the picture and a link to the “Talking Photo” as soon as I get it so that you can see and hear it. Hopefully it’ll be attached to my Sunday Series!!

Family History Sunday Series 1:6 Vital Records and Archives

When the Fall arrives and the chlorophyll production wanes, vibrant colors surface and beautify the trees. I never tire of that phenomenon!

When you think about Autumn leaves I want you to be reminded of vital records that are had for each living person and that add to their story. When you throw the piles in the air be reminded of the documents that may lay piled in a relative’s attic that somebody could use to pull together someones story, filling very important gaps in their history and those that they were related to.