I cannot expect my children to transcribe 35 personal journals I’ve written on this earth. Like a hoarder, I’ve held onto my journals as valuable to others, but understand it is not truly the case.
My friend’s mother passed away years ago, leaving over 1000 journal/scrapbooks organized like resources for a human Google search engine. She organized a lifetime of topics, magazine articles cut out, photographs from botany to zoology, shelves filled her entire home, bedrooms, livingroom, diningroom and her garage.
My friend kept only one index of her mother’s, because it was her handwriting, reminding her of mother’s passion. Many scrapbooks were donated to a small logging camp’s ‘library,’ which may not be accessible to other people who want a look at those books. I want to see the volumes all together. I went to look at her collection, and the place was closed indefinitely, no sign of ever being open again. Continue reading “passionate immortality” »