Front Porch Learning

I spent some time down in the hills of southwest Virginia for two family reunions this past weekend. I hadn't visited for eleven years, so it was definitely a fulfilling experience matching all of the faces to the names I'd heard of since I was smaller than I am now. I'd spent hours pouring over mom's books on our family heritage, reading records, and staring at photographs of relatives wondering what they looked like now, what they were doing, or as is the case now - if they were still alive. Unfortunately, many of the people who made up the "backbone" of both reunions are either too old, or have already passed on since I last visited. The younger generation no longer cares as much to come, nor do they show interest in the family history. When the older members heard about one of my intended majors - history - they all replied with the same exclamation: "Wonderful! We haven't had a young person interested in history since Aunt Hetty." My thought of course, was to wonder how it was possible not have an interest in history. After all, we're descended from it, we're part of the making of it, and we'll pass it on to others in either a direct or indirect way.
On another note, I was able to see the stars at night again. I was able to hear crickets and all manner of night critters chattering away about their tales under the moon. I heard the gentle southern breezes whispering lullabies through the trees and smelled the sweet fresh air that still lingers deep in the woods of Virginia. I watched nature come alive before me and remembered a very important lesson: it's the little things - the memories - that count. Cherish your memories, reader. Don't let them tarnish in the recesses of your mind. Write them down, share them with others. Memories are the rare gems that make up history's trove, unique to each person. Remember them, or they may be forgotten - just like Haysi, Virginia - left only for the crickets and trees to whisper about.