Better Than A Video

We live in a world where technology touches almost every aspect of our lives. We listen to books and can have our trips routed by our vehicle’s GPS. We are even willing to allow an electronic device to secure our most treasured memories for safekeeping. Not to say that making a video of special moments is not a good idea, but there are some memories that should only be committed to pencil and paper or at most typed on a keyboard to store for posterity.

For many years I wished that I had the means to have purchased one of the early video cameras to record my father as he was regaling us with stories of his life and the lives of family members who had long since passed. Dad’s stories seemed to be his way of helping us to keep these special people in our hearts and minds. I was by far the youngest of his three children, but he told me the same stories that he told my older brother and sister. We didn’t actually have the same memories of our older relatives, but we all shared Dad’s stories as common memories. And through those stories, many family bonds were created.

We never knew our great-grandmother, who actually raised our father but we all loved her just from hearing the stories about her. She was a tough, no-nonsense kind of gal but she would lay down her life for her family. I always admired her even though I never got to meet her. Likewise, we never met our father’s father. In fact, Dad never even met him as he was killed just before Dad was born. But he always loved his dad and so did we.

Times were different back in the 1920’s when Grandpa was killed, and money was scarce. My dad never even knew where his father was buried. He looked for his grave throughout his adult life but that was far before the information age and he had no luck. However, the search for Grandpa didn’t end when dad passed. Sadly, it was just a few years after we lost dad that I found Grandpa in an unmarked grave at a local cemetery. We remedied that with a headstone which reads, “Father Grandfather unknown but loved”. It was more than the words that dad spoke about him, it was the inflection and the feelings from his heart which helped us to form that treasured bond with a grandpa we never met.

I don’t believe that any recording device could capture all of the feelings in my father’s stories. He spoke from his heart, and his eyes revealed what he held deep in his soul. I knew my father, and because of that, I was able to know the people who were most dear to him many years ago.

So now when I think of a person or a story from my families past, I hear my father’s voice. I see it as if it is reflecting in his eyes and I experience his feelings in my heart. I heard these same stories for decades, first from a strong, fit man who was my protector and my hero. And then later from an old man who struggled to force out his words as his body failed him. But he never failed me, and he was still my hero. What I have learned is that though a video would be nice, I think I prefer to close my eyes and hear those familiar words in the strong voice of that younger man and not the old man who would be in the video.

I want to relive those experiences from a time before we spoke of chemo and white blood cell counts. I want to remember the stories and the lessons that Dad was imparting as we hiked the trails at his favorite park, but I also want to remember Dad as he was for most of my life. The way that he would want me to remember him. His storytelling involved more than just his words or even the look in his eyes. He was opening his heart and sharing a treasure that he had carried with him for decades. It was a connection from his past that he was sharing, and passing on to the future. There is no video that can offer that, but my heart and my mind are willing and able to play those memories for me anytime I need him.