Cleaning out old papers

As I start to wade through the boxes in my basement that came from my Mom's house, I found that she has become the Keeper of the Family History for my maternal line. This isn't terribly surprising; she's the only child of an only surviving child (my grandmother's little sister died when she was almost ten; someone remind me to put the story down in writing at some point, as Mom and I are the only remaining people who have heard it and I doubt Mom's in much of a position to do anything with it at this point).

I, however, refuse to haul boxes and boxes of papers that only mean something to ancestors long dead around for the rest of my life. Things that are so far gone that I can't even identify the people involved will be tossed unceremoniously, unless I can glean enough information to figure out what distant relative to pass it over to. Things that I can attach a bit of background to will be turned electronic and put somewhere where others can share not just the item itself but also the beauty behind it. Things that have hatred and ugliness behind them (letters sent just prior to divorces, etc) will be disposed of as the toxic waste that they are. There's enough ugliness out there already, there's no need to immortalize someone else's.

In other words: be warned that there will likely be postings here at random intervals that describe various aspects of my family history.

However, I will spare all of you the picture of my great-great-grandmother in her casket. Thankfully I had seen _The Others_ and remembered from that movie that it was common in a certain era to take pictures of the dead. It kept me from freaking out entirely, though it was still rather disturbing.

Cleaning out old papers

As I start to wade through the boxes in my basement that came from my Mom's house, I found that she has become the Keeper of the Family History for my maternal line. This isn't terribly surprising; she's the only child of an only surviving child (my grandmother's little sister died when she was almost ten; someone remind me to put the story down in writing at some point, as Mom and I are the only remaining people who have heard it and I doubt Mom's in much of a position to do anything with it at this point).

I, however, refuse to haul boxes and boxes of papers that only mean something to ancestors long dead around for the rest of my life. Things that are so far gone that I can't even identify the people involved will be tossed unceremoniously, unless I can glean enough information to figure out what distant relative to pass it over to. Things that I can attach a bit of background to will be turned electronic and put somewhere where others can share not just the item itself but also the beauty behind it. Things that have hatred and ugliness behind them (letters sent just prior to divorces, etc) will be disposed of as the toxic waste that they are. There's enough ugliness out there already, there's no need to immortalize someone else's.

In other words: be warned that there will likely be postings here at random intervals that describe various aspects of my family history.

However, I will spare all of you the picture of my great-great-grandmother in her casket. Thankfully I had seen _The Others_ and remembered from that movie that it was common in a certain era to take pictures of the dead. It kept me from freaking out entirely, though it was still rather disturbing.

Condolence card

The first item of paper found in the Boxes O' Family History is a condolence card from a convalescent home. I'm not sure if it was sent for my great-grandfather's funeral or my great-grandmother's, as their papers were intertwined a great deal. However, I find the sentiment in it to be quite beautiful:

"Life cannot be cut off quickly; one is not dead until the things she changed are dead. We live in what we have done, and our effect is the only evidence of our having lived."

Condolence card

The first item of paper found in the Boxes O' Family History is a condolence card from a convalescent home. I'm not sure if it was sent for my great-grandfather's funeral or my great-grandmother's, as their papers were intertwined a great deal. However, I find the sentiment in it to be quite beautiful:

"Life cannot be cut off quickly; one is not dead until the things she changed are dead. We live in what we have done, and our effect is the only evidence of our having lived."