The March of Time
For those of you who do not follow my other blog, I have recently finished The Talisman series, an eight-book, YA Fantasy/Adventure that explores the history of Britain through the eyes of two twenty-first-century boys who just happen to have the same names as my grandsons.
It’s a decent series, good, solid writing, even if I have to say so myself (which, yeah, I kinda do) and you could do worse than giving it a try. I mean, it’s only £0.99 on Kindle so, really, you don’t have much to lose.
But that’s not what I want to talk about.
With that project over, I am now full-time on The Patriarch Diaries, which does not mean this blog but, rather, the book I have always planned to create from this blog.
The book is to be a combination of family history, legends, general reminiscence, and as much of my life story as I can pack in. The General Reminiscence section is pretty much what this blog is made up of.
But that’s not what I want to talk about.
One of the first tasks I undertook was a side-project involving Ben Phelper’s Kriegie Memories, a book he wrote about his experiences in Stalag 17B during WWII. It’s an amazing book, recounting a story that should not be forgotten, and I wanted my Grandkids to have the opportunity to read it.
My oft-repeated quip about this (and other ramblings down memory lane) is that my grandchildren regard those stories the same way I regard stories about the Victorian Era. Ha Ha. Except it’s true.
World War Two began fifteen years before I was born. I grew around people—young men in their 40s and 50s—who fought in that war and had first-hand knowledge of it. But for my G-kids, that was 70 years before they were born, and if you go back 70 years before I was born, you hit the Victorian Era.
Granted, I knew people who were born in the Victorian Era, and who fought in World War One (not so uncommon when I was growing up) but they were old people, with stories I didn’t, at the time (and I could kick myself now) find relevant.
And so, The Patriarch Diaries, my attempt to record as much about my life, my family history, and what life was like in the 1950s, 60s, and 70s as I can, and present it to my grandchildren in the knowledge that it will be totally irrelevant to them.
But someday, when they’re my age, they may feel differently, and at least they will have the chance to find answers to the questions I wish I’d had the foresight to ask my grandparents when I was young.
4 Comments
Patricia Van Alstyne
So true! I was SURROUNDED by very elderly relatives but they all basically passed before I had any sense of history. How I wish I could have asked them questions about their youth, about their grandparents. My Great Uncle Earl Van Alstyne did tell me about the Leatherman, a little bit about the Headless Horseman, horsehair snakes, Spook Rock, Lebanon Springs. Uncle Earl also took me to the ‘Slave Cemetery” off of Rothermel Ave. I was perhaps 7. Uncle told me how badly slaves had been treated, how evil slavery was. I remember he made it a point to to show me that ‘these poor souls’ were not even given a stone to be remembered by. He and several other men were trying to right this wrong by placing markers on each grave and by mowing it. He told me to never forget and to share this information in the future. Now, you have a little more history about Kinderhook.
(I loved Uncle Earl, he was kind, funny, played checkers, ate popcorn, told stories, loved dogs, cats, rabbits, chickens. Had an alligator that his wife may have dumped into the Kinderhook creek by the swimming hole! Earl would show up at our house on Friday, at dinner time, he would have some excuse. It was always on steamed clam fridays. I was raised Catholic. My mother was always amazed that he KNEW of the clams. He would not show up on Fridays when we had fish sticks, cod, turbot. Just clams. I wonder if he had an informant, The fishmonger, perhaps?
Patricia Van Alstyne
Leatherman
Uncle Earl was absolutely certain Leatherman also went around the eastern part of Columbia County.
https://www.npr.org/2011/05/26/136649653/leatherman-remains-a-mystery-even-in-death
MikeH
Interesting. I’ve never heard of the Leatherman before.
This blog, and any other history I can scrape together (including things you have told me), will go into the book. My grandchildren will get a chance to read about “the old days” if they have the notion. Like most kids, they’re not at all interested right now, and even if they were, they don’t have the opportunity to ask me. So, the book. I think more people should write things like that, and I encourage anyone to do it whenever the opportunity arises (hint, hint).
In doing this blog, I realize just how far removed our time was. It really does seem like a different age, which I suppose it was. And I’m doing my best to make sure it’s not forgotten.
Thanks for reading, and contributing.
Karen Jones
My parents married and returned to my father’s hometown, Pender, Nebraska, after two years at the University of Nebraska. But that’s not what I want to write about….
My sister gave me a little leather travel makeup case, almost complete with compact, mirror, lipstick case, and lovely etched compact. I have the travel itinerary, also — yet Grandmother never said ANYTHING about going to Europe, in about 1950 (the year before I was born) with her neighbor lady, Nellie, to “see the capitals of Europe.”
This was just 5 years after the Second World War tore Europe to pieces. The travel guides notes repeat that fact several times. My grandmother was not a big talker, but geeeezzz….
Have been texting with the son of our best friends. He is now a Dad. Daughter turned 4 on Monday, and “Likes being 4.” I suggested he start a Journal for her, as his mother (a lifelong school librarian) kept detailed journals of each of her children from the time they were born. “Good idea!” Dad said. They are expecting another child this Autumn. The changes in this world are so amazing, but so taken for granted. Hurrah, the Partiarch Diaries, Mike!!!
Get out your bellbottoms and your peace symbol necklace. You already have a great guitar!!!!!