The most endearing project I have ever undertaken is to write a biography of my father who passed away in March of 2010. He was 89 and the hero of all who knew him, family and friends alike.
At the purchase of a new video camera and
a few trips to Napa, CA in 2005, 2006, and 2007, I was able to capture my
parents on video relating their life stories. Last Christmas my sister asked me
to write a story about Daddy carving the violin he made in high school. When I
realized all I had were a few details and some pictures of him holding this
precious family heirloom, I wished I had done more to capture its history—his
history. One story about the violin was not enough. A book was in order. As I
approached this task, I added mother’s life to it because who was Daddy without
Mother? They married on Christmas day 1941 and were together 68 years . . . Howard Eurbie and Elsie (Daugherty) Goines.
I was
so grateful I had ten recordings from which to draw this biography. I have
childhood stories of stealing watermelons, his military service (WWII), his
employment, their move from Arkansas to California in 1946, his hobby of Model
A restoration and all the pictures, awards, trophies, and ribbons that went
with them. I also obtained stories from friends who worked with him in his shop
learning all about cars; stories the family would have never known.
In subsequent trips to Napa my mother
graciously allowed me to snoop into every nook and cranny, every drawer, file,
closet, and box to gather whatever else I could find to include into this labor
of love. I found his wedding suit in a garment bag with a 29” waist and buttons instead of a
zipper. I’d never seen it before; never knew it even hung in the
closet.
I have transcribed his life onto
almost 400 pages and inserted stills of him telling funny stories into the
text. It is an added blessing to see the face that went with the hysteria when
he laughed so hard he could barely tell about the corn cob fight in his
grandpa’s barn.
As I
approach the end of this project, I realize there are many gaps of his life I
failed to ask and now it is too late. The purpose of this letter is to
encourage each of you to take the time and opportunity to glean your family
history from those who are still with you, who still have their rich memories
of life. I am also keeping a journal of “cute sayings” by my granddaughters, like
Emma telling us at age four, “Jesus lives in the red and we live in the black.”
Don’t regret someday saying, “I wish I had
asked Mom while she was still alive,” or “I wish I had recorded Grandpa before
he got Alzheimer’s.” Another word of encouragement is to journal your own life
. . . while you still remember it.
I also learned from a retired librarian
that two copies of your family history should be sent to the Library of
Congress for safekeeping. Not only is it your history but it provides U.S.
history as well when you share incidents of your ancestor’s lives. These copies
will never get lost or destroyed or be forgotten in the attic of an old home.
"At most, living memory endures for a hundred years or so.
Thereafter, even the barest outline of the past is forgotten,
unless it is recorded in writing . . ."
John Morris in Londinium: London
in the Roman Empire
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