Not Even Up To My Ankles

I spent the better part of yesterday working with my dad's family story.

I started collecting memories in December, 2008. I have travelled to visit my uncle in Ontario. I have driven down prairie roads and into the 'hills' to talk to various family members and neighbors. I have collected an assortment of information from a few of my aunts and my mom. I've sent email requests for memories.

And I have succeeded.

I have a myriad of conversations that I have transcribed into written form. I have a mish mash of arsenal in my possession to begin to create a book full of memories and stories.

All I have to do ... is put it all together.

Yesterday, I began the process of amalgamating this data into one document (instead of 15 ... plus notebooks full of transcribed conversations), insert appropriate photographs and cull through the tickle trunk full of memorabilia that has slowly amassed over the course of my research.

As I waded through my computer and box full of family memories, I heard the voices of the people that told those stories. I am so grateful that there is such a wide array of viewpoints.

This will be a story told by many. A book full of memories of 'Life as They Knew It'.