There’s a scene in the book and
movie “Shackleton,” in which an Antarctic expedition photographer/videographer
may be seen filming the crew of her majesty’s ship, “Endurance.” The young man,
as all photographers are apt to do, can be heard giving instructions to a
motley assemblage of Englishmen, as they stand on the deck of the ship.
“C’mon men. Look at the lens. Your
children, and grandchildren and great grandchildren are here; just inside this
box.”
This concept struck me rather
strange, a bit poignant, and quite true. After all, in all those momentary
reflections which were committed to a glass lens and celluloid film, a hundred
years hence, they were leaving something of themselves behind; to be discovered
by, and delighted in by their countless descendants.
And so, with each image for which
our own distant ancestors posed, they provided us some understanding of why we
look the way we do; enlightening those of us who would never have the privilege,
(or possibly the misfortune,) of knowing them in person.
We look into those
unblinking eyes which stare out at us from fading black and white celluloid
photographs, and it is all too apparent that not only did we never know them,
but that we will never have the opportunity to know them. You see they never
left anything behind. And that’s just sad.
Well, granted, they
might have left us one or two fading photographs, and photographs are nice, but
I think if that’s all we leave behind, well, it’s simply not enough.
Neither, I think, is
it enough to leave a bit of land or “green paper with dead president’s
pictures.” Neither land nor jewels nor cash represent or characterize us very
well to our descendants.
While land, money and
photographs and such things are nice, and add something to our lives, I believe
every one of us should consider leaving something more personable, more
tangible, and more enduring behind.
A written, video, or
audio record of our having lived, and moved, and breathed:
A daily diary,
journal or blog has the potential to inform and influence those among our
descendants whom we will never have the wherewithal to meet in person, allowing
them to know who we were, what we believed, what values we held, whom we loved,
how we lived, etc.
Too many of my direct
ancestors, as well as yours, just seemed to be “too busy living” to leave
anything behind. I personally think that’s just a crying shame, and I, for one,
am not content to follow their lead.
I have been fortunate
to discover three examples of written materials which have been “left behind”
by members of my extended family.
A great uncle
authored a volume containing his Civil War memoirs. A distant cousin left
behind a journal of his experiences while on an 1849 overland journey between
Wisconsin and California. Another cousin penned an academic thesis while
finishing the requirements for a graduate degree in philosophy.
Not to be outdone,
(since I would be a hypocrite if I failed to follow my own advice) I have
compiled four hard drives which contain, (and to which I continue to add): Ministry Materials, Genealogical Research
representing multiple branches of my family, Unpublished Volumes which I have
written, and Family Photographs, Audios and Videos. Upon my passing each of my children
will be provided copies of these resources; with the admonition that when newer
methods of electronic storage are developed that these materials should be
upgraded to the newest media devices. In turn, I expect my children to bequeath
these resources to their children, and so forth.
Following is the
forward from my autobiography:
“As I write these words I am here, and you are not. As
you read these words, you are here, and I am not.
The written word, like almost nothing else, has the
capacity to unite me with you, to commune with you, and to convey something of
my essence, encouragement and affection to you at a time when I no longer have
the wherewithal to do so in any other manner. If you are reading this, that
time is now, and I will have gone on to my reward.
My dear grandchildren, I have long considered prayer
my ministry to you. I have prayed for you, though as I write this many of you
are little more than ‘a twinkle in your great Granddad’s eyes.’
Life is too hard and too unpredictable for anyone to
go it alone. I have prayed for you on a daily basis. I wanted you to know. You
are loved with an everlasting love.”
Granddad
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