I fell upon, by odd coincidence, a journal my Grandma kept the year I was born up until, perhaps, I was about ten.  She does not talk much about me in her entries, because she had about 38 grandchildren so she did not write about any one particular child for long.  She jumps back and forth, mainly talking about what she did that day, who she talked to, wrote to, etc.

This journal, that my Aunt let me borrow, also came with a photo album full of old pictures, cards, mementos of my Grandparents life together.  These artifacts have really enlightened me of where I come from.  I am NOTHING like my Mom or Dad.  Well, I take that back... my control issues I got from my Mom and I think I may have gotten some of my Dad's odd sense of humor, but my spirit, my heart, my soul; I always wondered where it came from?  I am a very passionate person, I am very inquisitive, curious, and adventurous.  This has been a burden and a blessing, for instance, since I was old enough to question, I was questioning God and the Universe.  I just could not understand certain things and I WANTED TO KNOW.  I have had bits of depression because I would see no point in life because I did not hold all the answers.  But its also been a blessing because I have traveled places and met people and really have lived for the moment.  I have also done a lot in terms of art and feeling and I have loved another, with my whole heart. 

Now, I love my Mom but she is very practical about life.  She does not think very deeply, and though she is far more intelligent than Ill ever be, she is not very spiritual or in touch with the natural mystic side of life, like I am.  My Mom is religious, by book, she worries A LOT about what others think, and she really built her life around her children. My Mom is also one of the kindest souls Ive ever known, she is so caring and would give you her last cent, she is so unselfish its scary sometimes. My Dad, on the other hand, is very selfish and wants things how he wants them.  He does not go out of his way for others.  But, I take my Dad for who he is now, he is hilarious in his own quirky way, I know he loves me, though he rarely shows it, he, obviously, does not know how to show it.  My Dad is extremely smart, like rocket science brilliant and so I always got through Chemistry and Physics in High-School with his help.  Hes my Dad, you know, he just is who he is.  I would not trade either for anything in the whole world.. but.. where did I come from?

I realize, now, that I may have gotten most of my personality traits; my thrill of life, my adventurous side, the spiritual realm, you know, the real guts and soul and heart of me.  I think I got that all from my maternal Grandmother, possibly my Grandfather too, since he writes about a sunrise in one of his letters and he really paints it for the reader (who was my Grandma at the time.)   When I read my Grandmas journals its like Im reading my own words.  She's about 65-75 years of age when shes writing in this diary.  In one she talks about firing a shot gun just for fun and in another she speaks of the calm of the creek, as she writes from a canoe.  She went fishing with one of her grandchildren, my cousin.  She writes "I swear Ill buy a fishing pole some day."  Then on the next page she describes going into town and buying that fishing pole.  Thats alot like me, spontaneously I do things on a whim.  Ill take on one hobby then Ill switch to the next.  Is this a quality or a curse?  I dont know, since I never became a great painter or a skilled piano player, however, its been an interesting ride thus far, thats for sure. My Mom does not feel passionate about things like this.  I dont know if she did once and then grew tired or its just not her personality.  My Dad is not a very passionate man, either but mainly he would not "waste" the money on a fishing pole. Hahahha.

I wish I had really gotten to know my Grandma. I mean, I knew her. I know she smiled a lot. I know she was kind and spoke softly. I know she bickered with my Grandfather at times but they never held a grudge. I know she believed in God and went to Church every Sunday. I know one day while walking down an alleyway in Pittsburgh, PA, where she was born and raised, she slapped a kid she did not even know across the mouth for swearing in front of her.  I know my Grandma ran off to Alabama, where my Grandpa was being deported from, I know her Mother did not approve.  I know they got married with just two witnesses, another couple who did the same thing.  I know my Grandmother gave birth to ten children and, even when she had dementia, knew all their names when they would visit.  But I did not know my Grandmas ins and outs of every day feelings: her hopes, her dreams.  I did not know my Grandmother was so wild at heart.  I did not know how bursting with love she was for my Grandfather. There are love letters, in this album, that my Grandparents wrote to each other when my Grandfather was in WWII.  In one he writes of being on a ship headed toward Africa.  He wonders when he will see a white Christmas again and how he prays that the good Lord will allow him to return safely to my Grandmother.  He writes I love you, darling, and I miss you terribly.  My Grandmother sent him numerous pictures, usually she is walking through a field of flowers, trees in the background, shes wearing simple dresses, but looks beautiful and graceful, with crimson lips, shes smiling. She writes on the back I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.

Getting back to the journal, however, this has been great self awareness and discovery for me.  I find it hard to believe this was just coincidence.  We were not supposed to stay over my Aunts house that night.  But we ended up staying and my Aunt just happened to pull out the box of things in the morning.  What a perfect time for me to find these treasures, now, as I am learning and growing and becoming myself.  I am truly feeling comfortable in my skin and as if I make sense in this world.  As I said before, my Grandmother did not talk much about me in this journal, but in an entry from August 1984 my Grandma wrote this (fake name used to maintain anonymity, ......Lynny is over, she is glowing with new life inside of her.  She has a twinkle in her eye. ...... I was in my mummys tummy ;)

I am really glad I have a place like this to share my journey. I don't expect people read this the whole way through. I just like to have my words float out into the world.

-- Edited by Michelle814 on Tuesday 7th of February 2012 02:15:34 PM