It’s the middle of March and there’s still snow. The temperature is “- freezing” again. I suppose I should expect it, living in Alberta, but I’m desperate for winter to be over. You, too? Please let me know the minute you see a bud on a willow tree.
Speaking of the middle of March, isn’t there a book by the title of “Middlemarch”? Why, yes! Yes there is. In fact, it was written by George Eliot - a pen name for a woman named Mary Ann Cross, who lived and died in Victorian London. I’m sure she was a woman of strength, for to even have her books published is a feat in and of itself. Perhaps it’s why she chose George as her pen name. If you’d like to read along with me, I'm beginning this book TODAY! (You can get the ebook for free on Google Play Books OR Project Gutenberg. If you’d prefer to listen to audio, LibreVox is the place to go!)
I first learned about her when researching the burial place of my husband's great-great-great grandfather. They are both buried on the east side of Highgate Cemetery, one of the most supposedly haunted, certainly mysterious cemeteries in all of London. If and when I do go to London, it’ll be one of my first stops. Below is a photograph of Highgate Cemetery. Terribly creepy at night, wouldn’t you say? Have you been to see it? I’d love to know.
So, after my visit to good ol’ London, how am I going to preserve those memories I made? I, for one, would have taken a plethora of photographs. I’d probably have also kept a journal. And if I’d forgotten to write about a certain day or experience, I’d be sure to get that written as soon as I could!
Memories fade. I know this first-hand, as I get older. My memories are not as sharp as they used to be about some occasions. That said, I have been able to remember things that I haven’t been able to recall before! How complex our minds are.
Do you have a plan for saving your memories?
Why bother even, if your memories fade over time? I’ll give you one good reason to save those memories of yours.
Here's ONE good reason:
You won’t realize how much you value them until they are all you have left of a loved one or special occasion. It’s in remembering the past that we can know more of where we’ve come from & who we are.
You don’t realize how much you value your memories until they are all you have left.
This month, I’ve thought often of my paternal grandmother. I realized that I don’t have my memories of her written anywhere. So, I’ve begun to write them down. She was one of the strongest women I have been blessed to know. At a previous moment in history, she was one of the strongest in smell, also! Here’s a snippet of one of my memories of her.
Got Skunked!
It was around afternoon coffee time when my mother came crashing through the front door of my grandparent’s home. We lived across the driveway on the same farm, so I had been visiting Grandma at the time.
“Mom! Mom! He’s here! He’s in the barn and we've got to get him now!” my mother exclaimed, motioning for Grandma to get her boots and coat immediately.
I watched out the kitchen window as they made a run for the barn. It was ol’ Mr. Skunk, I was sure of it. He’d been getting into all sorts of trouble with us lately, especially since we had a flock of chickens in a nearby shed we affectionately called the “hen house”. The two women frantically running was hilarious as I watched them enter that big red barn. I’m shocked I didn’t go out to the barn door to watch the demise of Mr. Skunk, as I quite like to snoop. I’m sure I am better off not peeking. A while later, my mother and grandmother emerged. Our spunky dog ran up to them, then quickly took off in the other direction.
As my mother headed back to our house, Grandma approached the front steps of hers, proceeding to remove her smelly clothes. She stunk to high heaven with le pew! Grandpa then had to drive into town to get some tomato juice (or something similar), for that was the only thing that could remove the smell permeating from those two women’s bodies! A bath in tomato soup. How lovely!? At least we knew the chickens weren’t in any more danger from that skunk!
But oh, to have an actual photograph of that memory! Those two women, heading to the barn, marching as to war. A very comic scene and heroic feat, to be sure! I could only wish to be as strong as both my mother and grandmother in a similar situation. Thankfully, I haven’t had to deal with a skunk.
So, how DO you save your memories? Photos and memorabilia are tactile gifts to share, not just with those around us now, but those who will come after us. I absolutely wish my grandma had kept a journal. I’m a sentimental gal, and waves of nostalgia often crash over me. Because of this, I know I need to keep track of my memories, for my sake and the sake of my children and future grandchildren.
What is one memory you hold dear?
Record your memories. Don’t let them die with you. Writing or recording (video/audio) those moments will enable them to be easily recalled later on and passed down as a family keepsake. You’ll be so thrilled and that’s something to make a stink about!
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