Recently, I visited my aunt and looked through some photos. She has pictures I have never seen before of my grandparents and my dad when he was a boy. As I looked at a certain picture of my grandma I realized she was about the same age as I am now. When I was younger, I looked a lot like her but looking at a picture of her the same age as I am now I can see that resemblance has faded. My dad assures me though that I have many of her mannerisms and still carry myself in a similar fashion. That is comforting because I have always enjoyed having that connection with her even though I don’t remember her very well. She died when I was 12 but for the last three years of her life she was in a nursing home and her body became merely a shell of the vibrant woman she once was. But when I saw that picture of her of when she was close to my age I compared our lives and the different roads we have both taken to get to this age. Continue reading
family history
Two Graves
There are two graves
that sit on a hill
overlooking the land
as if a silent sentinel. Continue reading
General Conference thoughts: Family History Work: Sealing and Healing
by Elder Dale G. Renlund
It’s all about family. In the end, it’s all about family, what else matters? Continue reading
The Cowboy and the Kid
The cowboy might have been
a tough ranch hand
alone most days
set in his ways
a nomad roaming the land. Continue reading
Mary’s Grave
There is a place
not too far away
that is hidden
to the human eye
but where the antelope play. Continue reading
The Quest for Mary
Sometimes you just have to believe that maybe you are being guided on a certain path for an unknown reason. Maybe the only reason is to bring a smile to your lips and warm your heart. But sometimes you just have to think maybe, just maybe, this series of events is more than a coincidence. Sometimes it’s bigger than you. Sometimes. Here is one of those times for me. Continue reading
In Mom’s Steps
“Am I like grandma?” I used to ask my mom ad nauseam. “Tell me about grandma.” My grandma T died before any of her grandchildren were born and I missed having a grandma. Without any consideration for my mom having to bring up memories about her beloved mother I used to beg her to tell me about grandma T. In my defense, I didn’t understand and couldn’t comprehend how sometimes talking about the deceased can be a painful experience. That was a lesson I could only learn by unfortunate experience. So when I was young, I pleaded for information about this absent woman whose blood ran through my veins. I guess I yearn for connections and I needed to know if grandma would have liked her granddaughter. In a way, I am still searching for connections. Continue reading
My Names
I am proud of my name
but also my hidden name.
Two lines mixed together
and both I claim. Continue reading
I am a Stowaway
I like family history. I’m just not any good at it. There is a particular family legend on my mom’s side that we have shared and are kind of proud of it. There is a chance that it may not be true. But even if part of it is true, oh, what a story!
Memory Keeper
I am the memory keeper
though I didn’t set out to be. Continue reading
ck's days 