Just this past Monday I received a packet in the mail from my dad. It's a copy of his memoirs... his recollections of the past 84 years. It's not something that would mean anything to the average person, but for me it's history. I don't know if there's anything in there that I haven't already heard. (At least there was no forewarning of deep, dark, hidden family secrets.*) But, we could always get lucky!
My parents were born in 1925... the Roaring Twenties, when these chicks were hanging out being cool:
My parents lived through the depression and World War II... their formative years... and that certainly impacted the way we were later brought up. "Waste not, want not" was a way of life. (And perhaps planted the seeds of my hoarding, cat lady tendencies.) We learned not to buy anything on credit and to never spend more than we earned.
I'm sure that in reading my dad's memoirs, there will be insights into how he became the man he is today. A quiet man, until you get to know him. Somebody who enjoys a good joke. Somebody you can count on.
I have a feeling his story will be one of the best Christmas presents I've gotten in a long time... and one that Vlad and I will appreciate in the years to come.
Thanks for the history lesson, Dad!
*And not to worry... I'll let you know if there's any good "dirt" once I've read it!
