I have become painfully aware of how little I know about my parents, not who they are as my parents, but who they are as people. What did they accomplish as children, what things did they do that they aren't so proud of, who did they dream of being, what sort of things did their parents do that they hated as kids, what were family gatherings like, etc. Maybe I just wasn't listening those twenty some years I was home, maybe I was too self-absorbed being a kid or trying to figure out who I wanted to be to care about who they were.
As my Dad's 60th birthday has come and gone and a recent visit to Chicago I'm left with a lump in my throat telling me I don't have forever with them. This may be a morbid thought but it's also a progressive one. Humans are innately sentimental, at least I believe this to be true, over our past, our history, and what events have shaped us to be who we are. We wouldn't spend billions on therapy, self-discovery, and self-help books if we didn't give a shake about the things that happen to us and to those that came before us. We'd simply be one sheep following one another until we met our maker.
My Grandma Tippy had the forethought to compose two small booklets about her childhood some years ago in which she presented copies to all of us each Christmas. I cherish those books and actually keep them in my safe. They are a story, in her own words, of what life was like back when. Tales that seems like fiction, that just couldn't be true; riding horses to school, deep poverty, an orange as a prized Christmas gift. It was after reading those booklets, complete with images she'd drawn herself, that I understood a bit more about who she was as a person, as my Grandmother.
I don't think I am alone in that we so often long to know more about someone after it's to late to ask questions. We don't want to be rude or pry about what their lives were like and unless that person is forward and open about their life we just never assume to ask. Do my kids know that I was second chair flute all through grade school? Do they know I won several first place ribbons in my high school senior art exhibit? Do they know that I once canoed down a river and tipped over in chest deep rapids? Do they care, will they want to know?
This blog was created not as a place of self-promotion but almost as an open working journal, that if kept up long enough, might just become a place my children can come to learn about their crazy mother and her life's experiences. Make a list of all the things you've done in your life, good and bad, add to it as you remember them, ask questions of your parents and Grandparents, keep it in a safe place and someday that might just be the best gift you could ever give to your kids. Sometimes understanding the way someone came to be who they are can give you a greater appreciation for why they do the things they do. There may just be a reason or ten why your Mother does that thing that makes you crazy!
