Memories Are Best When Shared

Sometimes I think that family histories are a dying art. You don’t hear about family reunions near as much as years ago; and even if people have them, you don’t see near as many young folks gathered at them.

I like to think that my house has a lot of history in it, whether it be hand-me-down furniture, dishes that belonged to my grandmother, or the many, many pictures scattered about my house, placed strategically in almost every room.

I have an etagere` that is covered with pictures of all our family from different stages of their lives, walls that speak to you when you walk by, begging you to turn your head and let a memory cross your mind and bring a smile.

I have paintings that were created by my Daddy hung in almost every room of my home; as well as art work and creations from my children, all from many years ago.

But my home, as I often say, is but a sheer amateur imitation of the home that belongs to my parents. The decorating was all done by my daddy, but it’s as such you would have thought a paid professional had done it.  And, they too, have many pictures of family history that go all the way back to the 1920’s, maybe even prior to.

This past weekend we all went to visit my folks in Albany Georgia, the town that I call home. Myself, my husband, my youngest son, and his girlfriend Megan. When we first arrived, we were bearing bags of hot lunches, so we went straight in and sat down at the table which was already set for our meal.

Lunch time consisted of burgers and fries from the local Five Guys there and accompanied by a lot of story-telling and laughter.

After lunch we were all stuffed as could be as we scattered out in their den, each of us looking for a place to wallow out a spot and get comfortable, as well as, mentally acknowledging we’d to fight to stay awake!

It was about that time, someone suggested that my mom take Megan on a tour of their home. My mom probably has more memories readily available in her head, than all of us in that room that day, collectively had together.

As I sat in my designated spot at the corner of one of the love seats, I could hear the chatter as it began; with descriptions and stories that accompanied each picture they stood in front of, relaying the times and places that all the events took place as well.

The two of them disappeared for at least an hour, and I am sure Megan’s brain was on information overload, but I caught bits and pieces of the tour, and as their steps would lead them somewhere within earshot, I could also hear the laughter that accompanied many of those stories and I realized how much joy that time was bringing to my mama and that I hoped to Megan as well.  

Families and the memories they hold are as big a part of the past as they are the future, if only we’ll take the time to listen when someone is willing to share them.