We are all living history…right?
This weekend I went through a huge box of my children’s childhood artwork, school work and other stuff. I found items like the above Sunday School ephemera (and the boy was, indeed, special, wasn’t he?) and practically every greeting card that was ever received by my children.
It is heartwarming to read the notes written by my two aunts to my children, attempting to fill the void left when my mother died as best they could from faraway Massachusetts.
And I love reading the school journal entries written by my children such as this one by daughter #1 in first grade:
If you were here on Friday I wasn’t here because my mom said I could stay home because my Uncle Chris was in town and we went to the transportation museum and it was fun.
Today we have to be on our best behavior because there are going to be people voting. I lost a tooth.
Then there are mounds of camp letters–to and from–classics!
Am I a fool to save all these? Well, after I get all this organized and catalogued into color-coded (?!) bins, it will be someone else’s problem to go through again some day.
For now, I am amusing myself…as usual.