Consult This Blogspot needs more attention, not from others, but from me, the blogger.
I've been thinking a lot about birth and loss lately. The "birth" and some "re-birth" are concepts that revolve around life changes. Some of the changes will be new; the others are re-birth of the old me, the tapping into parts of me forgotten over the years, as I soaked myself in work (or as work kept soaking me). There'll be more on that when the timing is right.
The loss is more about the loss of history, personal history and family history. I've moved so beyond the past that parts of me have been left behind, and it's time to back-track, remember, and embrace. Back in Pittsburgh a few weeks ago, I strolled down memory lane, looking at parts of my history that weren't forgotten, but, instead, attention-deprived and in jeopardy of being lost.
I shook down my old room for pieces of the past that I wanted to take back to Chicago and did. Of course, most of the attention was on baseball collectibles and old books, two major foci every time I return home. I snatched up a bunch of books, purchased during my high school and college years, and I also brought back on the plane a bunch of old baseballs, game-used and autographed that I acquired while I worked for the Pirates as a ball boy. Those mementoes mean a lot to me, and they needed to be back in my new home with other autographed baseballs that I picked up over the years of my Chicago-based rejuvenation of collecting. But, the moving of memories didn't end with baseball collectibles. I had to cast the net wider and dive into a piece of history that I don't really know or understand, my grandfather's life, my mom's dad's history.
The stories are cloudy, but I do have a feel for the man. He was a "hero" in WWII, honored with a Bronze Star, which I located in one of my mother's drawers that hadn't been disturbed much since she died in 1994. Prior to my arrival in Pittsburgh, I'd been thinking about that Bronze Star and the unclear stories that surround it. With the Star, I also found three other medals, all for campaigns in the Pacific and a general WWII service medal. I vaguely remember my mother talking about a Purple Heart, too, but it wasn't there, which means it's someplace else or maybe never existed. I don't know which is correct.
In addition to the war medals, I also gathered up many pins from his years as a Mason. I need to contact my step-grandmother and ask her all about the war years and the Free Masons affiliation. If she's willing and able to provide the truth in her stories, one of these days I hope to get a clear, honest picture of the man. I'm told that I'm similar to this man, but how? I don't know.
All these years after my mother's death and with so many personal changes on the horizon, I need to better understand my past, my history on my mom's side, before, literally, there is no one left to explain this part of my life.
I've been thinking a lot about birth and loss lately. The "birth" and some "re-birth" are concepts that revolve around life changes. Some of the changes will be new; the others are re-birth of the old me, the tapping into parts of me forgotten over the years, as I soaked myself in work (or as work kept soaking me). There'll be more on that when the timing is right.
The loss is more about the loss of history, personal history and family history. I've moved so beyond the past that parts of me have been left behind, and it's time to back-track, remember, and embrace. Back in Pittsburgh a few weeks ago, I strolled down memory lane, looking at parts of my history that weren't forgotten, but, instead, attention-deprived and in jeopardy of being lost.
I shook down my old room for pieces of the past that I wanted to take back to Chicago and did. Of course, most of the attention was on baseball collectibles and old books, two major foci every time I return home. I snatched up a bunch of books, purchased during my high school and college years, and I also brought back on the plane a bunch of old baseballs, game-used and autographed that I acquired while I worked for the Pirates as a ball boy. Those mementoes mean a lot to me, and they needed to be back in my new home with other autographed baseballs that I picked up over the years of my Chicago-based rejuvenation of collecting. But, the moving of memories didn't end with baseball collectibles. I had to cast the net wider and dive into a piece of history that I don't really know or understand, my grandfather's life, my mom's dad's history.
The stories are cloudy, but I do have a feel for the man. He was a "hero" in WWII, honored with a Bronze Star, which I located in one of my mother's drawers that hadn't been disturbed much since she died in 1994. Prior to my arrival in Pittsburgh, I'd been thinking about that Bronze Star and the unclear stories that surround it. With the Star, I also found three other medals, all for campaigns in the Pacific and a general WWII service medal. I vaguely remember my mother talking about a Purple Heart, too, but it wasn't there, which means it's someplace else or maybe never existed. I don't know which is correct.
In addition to the war medals, I also gathered up many pins from his years as a Mason. I need to contact my step-grandmother and ask her all about the war years and the Free Masons affiliation. If she's willing and able to provide the truth in her stories, one of these days I hope to get a clear, honest picture of the man. I'm told that I'm similar to this man, but how? I don't know.
All these years after my mother's death and with so many personal changes on the horizon, I need to better understand my past, my history on my mom's side, before, literally, there is no one left to explain this part of my life.
posted by Brian at 4:20 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home