Scary Stuff: Memory Loss

I'm engrossed.

I'm in the middle of a book called The Forgotten Garden, by Kate Morton. The heroine, Nell, was only four years old when she was found, all alone, on a ship that had just arrived in Australia from England. The dock-master and his wife took her in and raised her as their own. When she was twenty-one she was told of her mysterious beginnings, and was devastated to realize she had no history. The rest of the book is the search for who she really is. History makes great stories.

Today we attended an historical event. Dee knows the background story well (he wrote it) and was thrilled to be invited to the celebration. During the program there was a lot of congratulating and thanking, counsel to be appreciative of this special occasion and to remember the gathering forever. (Of course, that took forever.)

Kids wiggled, teens texted, adults nodded off—sadly, there were no stories to hold our attention, which was a shame. The stories from the past were full of adventure, courage and faith. Listening to the speakers, we were surprised that nobody mentioned the extraordinary (yet ordinary) people we were actually celebrating. They had been totally forgotten. With a captive audience aching for entertainment, not one of their stories was told, and an opportunity was lost.

History tells us who we are. But who is History? My grandpa was, my mother was, I am, you are. We have a responsibility to tell the old stories—to pass on the lessons. Don't wait for a formal meeting with somebody at the microphone or somebody in their grave. Start small:

1. While you're carving pumpkins, tell about Halloween when you were little. Describe how your mom stitched beads on your costume the year you were an Indian princess. "Her name was June and she could sew anything."
2. Don't make the turkey the only memorable thing about Thanksgiving. Tell how your grandma made you play Teakettle at the table after dinner and then play it. "Her name was Adelila and she made the best lemon meringue pies ever!"
3. Sing an old song and say, "My dad used to sing this to me. His name was Jiggs and he fought in Australia in World War II."

If you know a story about your grandparents or great-grandparents, find an occasion to share it. (As I'm writing this, I realize I have a second wave of grandchildren who don't know that my grandpa ran away to the circus, or that my great-grandma and her daughter married brothers.) We have to share our stories. I. AM. SO. SERIOUS.

The Forgotten Garden tells a memorable tale of memories lost. It's like having amnesia to not know your history. Scary stuff. Even scarier to be the memory that got forgotten. Make yourself memorable. On November 22, tell your kids where you were in 1963. If you weren't born yet, ask your mom where she was. Ask your dad what his number was in the draft lottery, and how that changed his life, and maybe yours.

I told some grandkids that we didn't have remotes when I was little. "Was that in the olden days?" asked Chelsea. "Was that in the 90's?" asked Lucy.

If you were alive in the 90's you have some great history. Don't forget it.