By Trudy Prins
Behind the ordinary faces of people, there sometimes lies the most fascinating stories. As with any buried treasure, digging them out requires time and patience, but they can be gold worthy of the search. How often doesn’t a funeral elegy reveal previously unknown facets of a life, so that there is a poignancy, a sadness about missed opportunity? I would have loved to interview the octogenarian who rode a motorbike in her youth, to sit with a quiet older woman and talk about her role as a nurse in England during World War II. I would have been spellbound by the adventure tales of the 90-year old who, in her younger days, sailed a small boat across the Atlantic with her husband.
When an old person dies, it’s been said, it’s like a library burning down. There are some questions I now have that could only be answered by a long-gone previous generation. It’s important to take time with people now, to value them and to glean something from their hard-earned experience. I had a great-great grandmother who lived in the early 1800s who apparently loved to write, but none of her writing has survived. Her life at times was very difficult and I want to know how she persevered when circumstances were dire.
Our own experiences tend to be discounted, seen as insignificant parts of a prosaic life. We forget that life is constantly changing, and that what looked ordinary to us becomes the relic of the next decade. One of the best ways to document our days is by keeping a journal. It can be a valuable resource tool to mine when we finally have the time and perspective to write the memoir. Even the briefest of entries can awaken a joyful memory or an anecdote to share with others who lived through it with us. Someday this may be precious to someone not yet born.
Writing things down can be a reminder to be grateful for the gifts we have received in our lives. We may never have filled important positions, but our role as observer allowed us to witness a great deal. There were the everyday heroes who, unaware, made an impact on our lives. The plant manager who, having won the Christmas door prize, turned it back in so that someone else could enjoy it. The doctor who refused to let the temptation of higher pay encroach on his time with family, the staid minister coming to a passionate faith late in life, the fashionista friend, the pie-baking volunteer who taught me how to properly primp pie crust edges. Memories of co-workers linger, even. though I may never encounter them in person again.
Stories have always been the way human beings share their experience of life: they educate and entertain, enlarge our world, give us new realms to explore, teach empathy and equip us for our own journeys.