At Last! Retiring for GOOD!

Today would have been my father's 95th birthday. Instead, he died just before his 76th. Dad was born in New Martinsville, WV, May 7, 1922. His father, Emzley Martin Ruble (spelling of that first name varies considerably in official documents), died in 1929, when my Dad was 7. Within a few short years, my grandmother Delphia Delia had lost the money the insurance had provided, due to bad investments, and was forced to place my Dad with relatives, along with all but the youngest two children. Later, when the eldest two were grown and married, he lived with them. His stories about his time on his grandfather Edgell's farm were few - he merely said that he did NOT like the farmer's life. One time, he mentioned that his grandfather was quite stern, even harsh, in his treatment of him and his grandmother. But, he mentioned it only that once. His other grandfather, Taylor Ruble, was a very kindly man, and he had good memories of him. Grandma Ruble was a very quiet and sweet ...

This post sparked mine today. I've been writing (slowly, one anecdote at a time) my memories of my youth, and the stories that I remember being passed down from parents, grandparents, and other long-lived people. I was fortunate - in my mother's family, old age was the default - my grandparents were born in the 19th century, and passed on stories of their youth. My father's family was equally long-lived, but not as talkative (WV vs. Irish-descent). Still, I have an aunt by marriage whose passion is genealogy, and who had compiled a bookshelf of clippings, copies of newspaper stories, and charts of the family, back to pre-Colonial times. If you aren't on Ancestry.com (and, I don't blame you - the price has risen shockingly!), you might want to use a word processing program or app - Google Docs is easy to use, and can be shared with others easily - to write down your memories - personal, or what has been told to you. If you'd rather, set up a videocam, and...