While searching for one thing

Hi neighbors. My 'sister mother' (the agreed on connection between my son's mother-in-law and myself) and I were chatting on the phone the other day about genealogy research and reports. She mentioned she did not have a program to start a database for a family tree. I told her I would find my old program and send it to her.

So it was I deployed my son into the huge black hole -- a.k.a. the spare bedroom -- to find it. I was pretty certain it was in a huge tote of genealogy records and assorted newspaper articles. This tote was, of course, underneath a pile of other totes and against the wall in an almost inaccessible part of the room.

With much direction on my part and a great deal of effort on my son's part, we finally got the tote to the front room. With the hope of any tomb raider and the hunger of any pirate, we opened the lid.

What we found was lots of genealogy records printed out, some forgotten photos, miscellaneous greeting cards received over a decade ago and stacks of newspaper clippings. The clippings were articles I had written for the Nevada Daily Mail including about 10 years worth of The Third Cup columns.

We all quickly took these things out of the tote and stacked them in new stacks across the living room floor.

The kids stayed long enough to sort the loot into piles of genealogy looking papers, photos, cards and newspaper clippings.

What we did not find was the genealogy program we were looking for. That search would have to continue another time. For now I had a covered floor and a sore back.

The kids left shortly afterward with Bill's stern warning to me to not try to push or pull the tote back into the spare room myself. He never mentioned trying to pick it up myself; but as he was the one who had carried it from the spare room to the front room, I guess he knew it would be beyond my capacity when the tote was again at its full capacity.

I resolved to sort things out and put some order to the papers before simply piling them into the tote again. Besides I had a couple of years ago decided to put some of my older poetry somewhere safe and once done I had not seen them again. So I was hopeful I would find them at least if nothing else.

For a day I eyed the piles of paper. Which pile should I start with? Finally I let geography win the day and started on the pile nearest my rocking chair. The pile was of photos and drawings my granddaughter had made when young; well, ten years ago. There were also some postcards from long gone friends and some homemade seasonal cards from a friend who had opened her own shop selling her cards. Birth announcements, wedding invitations and graduation notices were there as well. And, of course, photos!

I do love looking at photos and none of these disappointed me. As I sorted through them and sniffled over remembered occasions and people, I divided the cards into one small box and kept the photos and drawings for photo albums. I have made and maintained photo albums for each of my children and my granddaughter. Several photos and cards will go into the appropriate albums for them to have after I'm done playing with them, which may be a while.

Although I didn't find my old poetry, I did have a lot of fun sorting through old articles I had written for The Daily Mail. I have to admit I had forgotten even writing some of them. I enjoyed renewing my memories of these stories of times past.

Then there were the columns. The Third Cup, the endeavor my children call 'my baby' went back to 2002 and I sorted through them to find any that might have family stories in them to share with my children.

There was the time when Alyssa was in preschool and I was babysitting her in the evenings while her mother went to night school. This tale was of her throwing a tantrum when I asked her to pick up her discarded ballerina costume before taking out her dolls to play with. That one made me laugh and I'm determined to share it with her (now 15).

Until the next time friends remember weather may not stay nice but if you have to stay inside for a while, dig out an old tote of memories and share them with your children and grandchildren.