"Be nice to the registrar, or she will erase you from history."

I've been reviewing my family genealogy over the past few days in search of specific gaps that I'd like to fill within the next few years. Also, within the past 24 hours, I've learned of a dear friend's death but also that another friend has become pregnant. It's funny how life works out, and how a new form of life emerges from death (in my beliefs, at least). Regardless of the life event, I'm always intrigued by how we record these transitions from one generation to the next. We can always turn to the federal census, city hall records, church records, or local museums to discover the raw data, but how do we record actual memories and meaning - how do we keep an individual's life story? Do we all write memoirs, or record our oral histories? Do we tell stories to our children, or do we leave our personal possessions in the hands of museums? More importantly, does it matter - does it matter if we are remembered at all, or do we accept that our stories fade with our deaths?

I've been thinking a lot about these questions lately as I've been confronted with quite a few deaths recently, mainly elderly veterans who decided to leave their possessions at my museum just so their stories would be passed down to future generations. While it may be "just a job" to some, as a museum registrar, I feel personal responsibility to keep these stories alive. Once they're gone, they're gone, and there's no turning back.

Maybe this is why I constantly try to update my diaries, just so I can pass the volumes of notebooks down to my children. Maybe they'll be interested, or maybe they won't, but hopefully they'll find a place to keep them in case someone else is interested in what I once wanted to say about my life.