Memories are portals to the past, a culmination of events experienced by a younger you. They belong to only you because even though someone else was there they will remember the event with their own twist. This is not to say that your memory is exactly as the event happened, memories have a tendency to fade out over long periods of time. You may even find several memories intermingling with each other but that's OK, it's your memory.
I have been writing this blog since 2012, some 12 years ago. It started out as a place to put in writing all of my memories, every experience and happening in my life. It is also to be a means by which my sons, grandkids and future generations to know they are a part of a family they never met or knew. Now there will be no need for them to guess about their ancestry (at least not those of the last hundred years or so). I have written more than 164 stories to date, some only a few paragraphs, others pages and pages. They are all meant to inform and entertain the reader, if I did my job right you will be in awe, laugh your butt off and cry rivers of tears.
I have now written so many stories that I have lost the ability to remember if the subject I'm about to write I have already written about it. I sometimes think that old age has finally overcome me, I often forget things at the moment only to remember them hours later, it's an annoying part of life endured by many my age. I thought about cataloging each story according to its subject matter, like a table of contents, I even set out to do it but quickly lost interest, you'll just have to bear with me.
I often wonder if maybe I have depleted all of my memories as my writing seems to have slowed down, maybe I have said all that is worth saying, I don't know. Every once in a while, something will pop into my head and I say oh oh I need to write about this and I do, all the while there is a nagging thought that I have previously covered the subject - maybe I did or maybe I didn't.
I have spent my whole life making memories and often wonder if this blog might be an effort in futility, are the younger generations going to be interested in the ramblings of an old man. When I start to feel like this, I remember how just a few years ago I found myself wishing I had listened harder to the stories I overheard as a child, I find myself wishing I had asked more questions of my parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, so I keep writing. For sure a large portion of my life took place before Linda and I started our family, many of the people and places are no longer around. I think I have about recalled everything worth recalling, it's probable that I have already written about it or maybe not.
Kay and I are making our own memories now and from time to time I will add those to my writings. In the meantime, I will continue to write about something from long ago. If I repeat myself just think about the stories told again and again at family gatherings, you know you've heard them before but you listen anyway because it's worth hearing again, I would rather repeat myself than forget it altogether.
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