Opening Up the Fissures of Time

 In Bemjamin's study, thre is a closet.

When we first moved in to our home on Glenwood, we had a bunch of stuff packed up that we didn't have an immediate place for.  So, we crammed it into Benjamin's study room closet.

And then, over time, Benjamin's own possessions spread, and the entry way to the closet was blocked off - at least to the extent that it would require a tremendous effort to get inside. 

Now that Benjamin has moved to Warner Robins, we've been slowly reclaming the room, designing it more for exercise, and putting in a day bed.  This reclamation project opened up the closet.

And once I got into the closet...time itself began pouring out.

I've only gotten to about ten boxes (there are still maybe two dozen more).  Each one has overwhelming whiffs of another time.

There are books and old toys and games. There are pictures of Benjamin, and his artwork,  There are items and pictures about Greg and Doug.  Alison has a couple of boxes, including old family movie reels and correspondence with friends.  There are materials from my parents, including more of Dad's genaoligical research.

I found a box of science fiction and mystery pulp magazines dating back to the 50s.  I found a stamp collection of my Dad's, Japanese yen, and a post card collection dating back to the 1890s. 

And I found pictures.  Pictures galore.

The one at the top of this blog is from a collection of pictures my Dad has of his mother.  I'm guessing this was taken sometime in the 1910s.  The back of the card has the front row identified as Ella Snow, Nellie Snow (from Mass.), and Olin Snow. The back row has Ned Tripp and Flossie Snow.

Flossie was the nickname used by people for my Grandmother, whose actual first name is Florence.

She was very smart.  She gave a speech at her high school graduation, one that had a feminist bent, extolling the contributions that women can make.  She taught school for awhile.  She got married a bit later than what was normal for that time, to my Grandfather, Clyde Strait.  She had three children, the first of which was my father, Eugene Everett Strait.

As I organize these treasure troves of the past, they should help generate a lot of stories for this blog.

No, this blog won't be just about the long ago, but it will play a part.  

Sometimes, in order to know where we're going, it's good to know where we've been.