I wish I had thought to take photos of the mountain of paperwork that was delivered to my house, the day after Thanksgiving last year. There were seven large Rubbermaid storage tubs, plus one medium sized square cardboard box. When cousin Donna said that it was a lot of paperwork to go through, she meant... a lot. She had taken possession of the entire collection of office files when Grandmom crossed over, a few years ago, with the intent on sorting through it all. Everyone knew that there were some gems in those boxes, with Grandmom being a genealogist and the family historian. Antique photographs, maps, original documents, like birth and marriage records. All of the information she had gathered in her thirty years of tracing our ancestry. Books, pamphlets, and society publications. But Donna had never been able to find the time to tackle the enormous task, and I think she may have been a little relieved when I asked her if I could have them.
As it turns out there was a lot of junk in those boxes as well. Blank application forms to clubs and societies that she never used, in triplicate. Thirty years of bank statements, social security check stubs, and credit card statements. There were receipts for every document she ever sent away for from historical libraries, and city halls. We were able to recycle several things, like stacks of plain white paper that my girls used for drawing, and an unopened box of Christmas Greetings that I sent out to my closest relatives (with love from Grandmom).
Within a week, I had completely cleared out and disposed of the cardboard box. In another month, I had condensed enough paperwork to get rid of the first storage bin. In January, I cleared another one, and put it good use here at home. The largest obstacle seems to be the twenty or more large photo albums that hold some actual photos, but mostly newspaper clippings, and records. Some of these albums are thirty years old and are deteriorating. The moldy musty smell that fills the room when I open one is overpowering, and often triggers an allergic response, in me and the dog! With my daughter's help, we have removed the paperwork from the albums and stored them in large clasped office envelopes, resulting in the clearing of one more storage tub!
With my daughter being imprisoned under severe restriction lately, she's been helping sort through files, and on Monday, we cleared another bin. There are still about twenty more albums to clear, before they completely turn to dust! Once we do that, we'll surely be able to condense things down to a mere two bins, and that may just be as low as we can go.
Throughout the process, I have been whisked away to other eras, walking in the footsteps of my ancestors. I have been able to relate so closely to my dear Grandmother, as I thumb through her scrap notes, scribbled with repetitive names and mathematical equations as she tried to pin down each relative. In the past two years I've filled composition books and spiral notepads with the exact same computations! But I have to say that one of the most heart warming moments came when my daughter erupted with absolute amazement, delicately holding on to a yellowed document with tattered edges... "I'm holding my great great grandfather's original elementary school graduation certificate!"
Hopefully the love of ancestry is taking a hold of the next generation right before my eyes. Perhaps someday, maybe a hundred years from now, my great grandchildren will position a framed photograph of me on their own ancestry portrait wall, and they'll tell their grandchildren all about the family that I come from... that they come from.
No comments:
Post a Comment