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Family History - Making the Past Present
By Sandra Lee Schubert | March 25, 2008
“Without words, without writing and without books there would be no history, there could be no concept of humanity.” ~ Hermann Hesse Swiss (German-born) author (1877 - 1962)
What is your history?
A narrative of events or a story, your particular history is unique. One perspective does not define a family history. If you can relate the tale of how you came to be, then creating great feats of imagination is easier. There is intrigue, drama, love, deep sadness and incredible happiness in all our lives. Once you have identified these traits in your own family, it gives a framework for stories of invention.
“We live in a moment of history where change is so speeded up that we begin to see the present only when it is already disappearing.” ~ R. D. Laing
Someone told me they weren’t old enough to begin writing their life story. I have said it before but it bears repeating, each of us has value. You may not become president or win a million dollars on a reality show but you have something incredible to share. Our stories are ongoing creations. As we write the past we write into the future. Start today. My parents were exceptionally young when they passed away and I am certain they thought there was all the time in the world.
“Anyone can look for fashion in a boutique or history in a museum. The creative explorer looks for history in a hardware store and fashion in an airport.” ~ Robert Wieder
We have lost the ability for storytelling.
I remember large unwieldy family parties where we sang songs and related tales of how each of us came into being. My sister was almost born in a cab. My mother had a police escort across the 59th bridge to get to Saint Vincent’s hospital in downtown Manhattan. I lived in one of the first apartment buildings created with yards in the back. The building still stands. It was so old there was no insulation in the walls and each winter we chipped ice from the inside of our windows. The land just behind the yards was once used as a stable. My father worked there when he was young. Imbedded in the sidewalk was a horseshoe to mark the spot. I would trace the cold metal with my finger connecting me to a distant past. At the entrance to the stable my father had planted a maple tree. My mother, sister and I cried when the tree was cut down one year because it had an infestation of gypsy moths. It had been a living reminder of a young boy who grows to marry, fathered two girls and died too young.
“History, despite its wrenching pain, cannot be unlived, however, if faced with courage, need not be lived again.” ~ Maya Angelou, US author & poet (1928 - )
I tell the stories of my parents not to depress but to impress upon you the importance of sharing of yourself with those you love. Begin to write your story now. Carve out time to explore who you are and where you came from.
© 2008 Sandra Lee Schubert www.writing-for-life.com
Technorati Tags: Memoir, Life Story, History
Topics: History, Life Story, Memoir |