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In 1989, on the spur of the moment, I decided to take a trip to California to visit family. The niece with whom I was staying had a full-time position, at the time, and so, was at work all day. Her sister, who lived in another part of town, asked me if I’d like her to pick me up and we could go out for a nice lunch and spend the afternoon together. Sounded like a plan.

We drove past several good restaurants that she had mentioned, only because there was no parking to be had on any nearby streets. Then, circling around the block, we saw a perfect parking place that had only one hitch: there was a huge potted Cactus plant sitting in the middle of the parking spot.

My niece turned to me and said, “Would you mind stepping out and moving that plant to the sidewalk?” I did as she asked, and she parked the small car. I was bemused and said, “I can see sunning one’s houseplants, but gee whiz, why not just use the sidewalk?” I was waiting for her to tell me exactly what I suspected was going on, and she did. From past experiences, she knew that someone was apparently attempting to save their “space,” by this method.

Well, we both started walking down the San Diego sidewalk, heading toward the restaurant, amid gritos in Spanish from an upstairs apartment window. My niece said, “Look straight ahead and whatever you do, don’t look back.” So, following her orders, I did just that. We marched to the restaurant and had a lovely lunch, in spite of my nervousness at the “incident.”

In big cities, people will resort to the dangdest things.

I have fond memories of that visit, and luckily, when I returned home, my employment situation had evaporated and I no longer had a job working for someone else. I have always wondered if the demise of my office work was related to my landing in the hospital as soon as I returned home, or perhaps the postcard I sent from Mexico, saying that I was having a great time, and it would be surprising if I was seen there again!

There are always hidden blessings in life and they always come along when least expected. Sometimes, what we interpret as a problem, is really not an issue at all, but one that actually can lead to an improvement in one’s life. The key is to “never look back.” That has always worked for me!

I still chuckle when I think of struggling with that Cactus plant and moving it out of the way. Besides monkeys, humans are the funniest things on the planet, and perhaps not all that different.
Patricia

Stories, passed down by word of mouth are a funny thing in the way that they can change drastically, over time. If you are as old as me (older than dirt), then you will have experienced this in your own time, either with stories told about you, or with stories that you’ve heard about other people that are simply not true. The core ingredient in any believable story is that it have some element that either is true, or could be true. One story I can think of readily, is a relative saying that I had an advanced degree in a subject that I do not. It is within the realm of possibility that I could have earned that degree, yet, I did not. I hate exaggerations. I feel that I am enough, just being who I am, and just having actually done all that I have done!
Yesterday, while visiting with family members, I again realized the importance of stories. We want to remember something of our “people,” because who they were will always be a part of who we are.

There will always be those who did wonderful things, worth remembering, and there may also be family members who were less honorable. In any large and extended family, there is a mix of soldier and scoundrel, achiever and ne’er do well. That is how it should be, human nature being what it is.

I encourage you to write down EVERYTHING you know about your own family members and their history, including their medical history – what conditions they suffered from, and how and at what age they died.

So much family history becomes no longer available, or no longer readily available when any of us passes. We take each day for granted and expect to be around, and we don’t think how much correct information will mean, in the future, to those of our descendants who have access to it.

An ideal family history should include photos. If you have a large family, this project could easily blossom into a multi-notebook affair. Someone has said, “When a man dies, he takes a book with him.” If you can leave information about how things were when you were growing up, the details of daily life that are not in the history books, you will be providing a great service to future generations.

With my first grandchild about to be born, I am considering doing more writing on the topic of family history and my own personal history. At least if the stories are in writing, there will be less chance of them becoming transfigured to the point that they are no longer true.

Food for thought…

Patricia