It’s not too late to talk with your parents

Family histories are interesting.   We all have them and they’re all different.

There’s often one person in each family who remembers all of the stories – all of the characters – all of the events which comprise the life of a family.  In our family, that person is my sister.

Even though she’s a few years younger than me, her memories of the events seem sharper than mine.  And, when we get together, alone or with other family members, we usually end up butting heads over which story is more accurate.

She remembers events differently than I do.  She remembers people who have long since gone,  with a child’s wonderment.   I remember the same people but with a more practical eye.   I recall events she has no knowledge of.  She fills in the gaps of my memory with activities and characters that I didn’t even know existed.   That’s the way it is.   That’s the history of our family.

We didn’t have the smarts to interview the older generation before they all passed away.   We didn’t sit at their knees and listened to the story of our family.   A long distant relative once tracked down the Balsley Family Tree and sent me a copy.   It’s interesting but it doesn’t have much relevance to me or the kids.

I wanted to know how my parents met.  What kind of attraction was it?  When did they know they were in love?  Or, were they really in love at all?

I want to know why I live in Washington.  What was it that caused my family to move from Iowa to the Northwest?  Not just my parents, but all of my relatives moved to this state.

My sister and I swap stories and tales all of the time.  Some of it is true and some is embellished. We should have talked with the previous generation when we had the chance.  Perhaps we would have more true stories.   Or, perhaps, our embellished stories are family history enough.