Every family has a Keeper–of old pictures, relics, stories.
How did I end up the Keeper, on both sides of the family?
Before our son was born, I’d discovered genealogy, which finally made history make sense to me. I shared everything I learned with near and distant relatives, corresponding through the mail, sending self-addressed stamped envelopes for replies.
Dan’s growing-up years were devoted to helping with his activities–at church, school, scouts, wherever.
Then after Grandma Wilson died, in 1987 at age 97, I began to read the letters she’d saved–dating from the early 1900s. She also left a hand-written story of her life. So many of her stories fleshed out the names and faces on my family tree. Now, in addition to knowing many of her stories, I’ve started setting them in their history so that they will never be forgotten–especially the ones about her losing three of five sons who served in WW II.
Other stories, too, of my growing up on an Iowa farm in the 1950s.
Honor your father and your mother, that your days may be prolonged in the land which the LORD your God gives you. – Exodus 20:12