My stroll through the past continues. Yesterday I took a mental-health day and I used my time to look through some old photos of Noreen’s and scan those appropriate for my trip through history. I can’t describe how nostalgic it made me feel.
One photo in particular struck me, of the hundreds I viewed and scanned, and it was of Aunt Eleanor with a young girl. That little lady is probably well-grown now and likely has kids of her own. If you know who it is please let me know. I will ask Noreen as well, could be her daughter, or grand-daughter.
The photo caught me by surprise in a couple of ways, in the likeness of Aunt Eleanor and how I remember her best, and in my reaction to it. To say I was touched was a wild understatement. I was happy, and sad, at the same time.
So many of the photos I looked at brought out some emotions in me, whether curiosity or sadness, happiness or delight. Almost all took me on a trip through time. I traveled to places I know not, to a time before my own, in some cases to visit family I never had the pleasure to meet.
Perhaps that is part of my yearning, to re-meet those I haven’t seen for so long, and to become acquainted with those I’ve never met. Perhaps it’s that clock within me that’s ticking away, telling me that so much time has passed and I should, no, NEED, to see those we call kin. Too much of the importance of family has been lost.
I suspect if we ask most people under 30, maybe even those under 40 or 50, if they see importance in history they likely reply with a no. I’m not talking Roman history or the history of civilization. I’m referring to family history. Something that was once taught and passed down through generations. It was part of our oral traditions.
Now that dialogue and the associated history is becoming less than a memory except for some. In our passage there’s becoming fewer and fewer to walk with, fewer to stroll through the past with. Where has that history, that story, gone? I’m feeling lost.