your stories matter
I finally made it out to Central Park this spring and it was such a lovely day. I found ALL THE BLOSSOMS! Honestly, I think this was the first time ever that I walked from one end of the park (59th Street) to the other end (110th Street) all in one go. My brother and I walked it this past Tuesday.
My intention was to find some blossoms, soak up the inspiration, and possible film a video, which you’ll hopefully see tomorrow. I might attempt filming in the park again, but this time plan to bring my tripod and get to the park really early. Because I’d prefer there being as little people in the park as possible.
Anyway, when we arrived home that evening, my mother approached me with something very interesting.
My mother was cleaning out her dressers that day and found this little two-year planner from 1985-1986 that had once belonged to my father. It’s just this slim monthly planner and in it, he had written down what he did every single day for two years.
He was 29-30 years old when he kept this little planner and it has been so interesting and such a delight to get a glimpse of his life at that time. Like I knew I was like him–like father like daughter and all–but I would’ve never pegged him as a memory keeper in this way. Photography was his passion hobby, so I guess I should have known, but like…HE WROTE DOWN WHAT HE DID EVERY SINGLE DAY FOR TWO YEARS! I can just imagine he kept more planners maybe, but we haven’t really found any others, and if my mom did, she might have already tossed them, I don’t know.
I should probably preface by saying that my dad passed away six years ago and yes, we’re still cleaning out his stuff. And I’m still learning more about him everyday. We didn’t always see eye to eye, and he wasn’t really a very good conversationalist, so there’s a lot of things I’ve learned about him after-the-fact. I sometimes wonder what he would think of my memory keeping hobby. Because I never really scrapbooked before his passing. I began memory keeping in late 2012, shortly after his passing. It literally helped me get through my grief. I feel like with finding this little planner, it all sort of came full circle.
But THIS is the reason why we document and preserve our memories and our stories. Because they matter. Even the mundane and everyday things. Our scrapbooks and journals are our lives we leave behind for our families to read. Most people probably won’t understand (i.e. non-memory keepers), but after losing someone, finding something like this is such a gift.
A little excerpt:
Saturday, November 15, 1986: My dad took my mom out on a date to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to see a Van Gogh exhibit. He wrote it was a “very nice day.”
That was their first date.⠀