Friday, October 21, 2011

Only a Photo

Vague memories lie somewhere in the recesses of my mind. Memories of a big round table in a kitchen. Adults laughing and teasing. The smell of my grandfather's pipe and my uncles cigarette. An adult world that I remember only in soft memories that tickle my awareness now and then.

I do have the pictures. I do have pieces that I can put together to discover a life of which I had no part. A brother and his sisters play around in the yard. An uncle as I never saw him. A loved aunt that was full of mischief that we all loved. My mother young with a brother she adored and a sister who truly loved her. I do have the pictures.

My children will not have my memories. No, someday they, too, will have only the pictures. I thank God for the gift of words that I might add to them the stories they might one day care to know. We are all only pictures in time. The history we hold is every bit as important in time to a family as is that we read of other in history books. We write our own history book. I hope that you are in mine and I in yours.

2 comments:

Barbara McDowell Whitt said...

Pamela, this post made me think about the way my words in my 1960s diary blog resonate with my family members and why. I, too, have the pictures. My husband, who is more tech savvy than I am, put one of them - 50 years old this month - on my blog for me. As for my readers - he, one daughter, one sister and the former husband of a sister are regular readers. One sister and one daughter read it on occasion. One sister isn't into blog reading.

We are fortunate that we have made it to the age of the Internet so that we can produce or record our words in something called a blog. And your pictures on your blog enhance your story and invite commentary - your own and that of others.

Pamela Loxley Drake said...

Thank you, Barbara. This morning I was explaining to a friend that my once family blog has actually turned into a historical blog. What was once our daily lives has pieces of Americana that is no more. We are the historians, Barbara. Thank you for your comments. Wish you lived down the street.