Heritage

I've realized why I am having so much trouble blogging.  My personal history project is a blog, so I can't ever remember if I blogged on this blog or not, because I am blogging every day.  It's a problem.

Anyway.

Today I finished revising my oral history interview project for class, and I was reflecting on the day just over a week ago that I interviewed my grandpa.

Never have I been more excited to fulfill an assignment.  It was a beautiful day, it was rewarding, and it was just plain fun.  On a sunny California day, two days before Thanksgiving, my mom and I drove down to Coronado to talk to my grandparents (her parents).  I wanted to interview Grandpa for my writing assignment and Mom wanted to work on family history with Grandma.

Grandpa and I

As we drove the 35 minutes or so to Coronado, I asked Mom what period of Grandpa's life I should ask him about.  We talked about her childhood and all the amazing things he accomplished, and decided that the 1970s would be a great time period to interview him about.  It was just the two of us, my mom and I, and it was wonderful.  It was great to be open with her and hear details of her life that I had never heard before.  When we got to my grandparents' house, the greatness and the inspiration kept flowing easily.  I learned so much about Grandpa that I never even thought to ask all my life.  Through the interview, I saw him as a father, husband, and provider for his family, whereas to me he had always always been a retired grandfather who walks with difficulty because of an accident he had in the late 80s.  I never really considered thinking of him as a spry, healthy young man with three little daughters and a major construction company.  I was fascinated, enthralled.

During our hour-long interview, my mom and Grandma were in a separate room going through records and old newspapers and websites, trying to piece together more family history.  Genealogy is a project they have both been working diligently on for a long while now.  So much precious history was going on in that house that day.  I felt overwhelmed with gratitude for my writing assignment, for the health of my grandparents, for the ability to record history and to go back through those records in the future.  There was an amazing spirit there.

Grandma and Grandpa
"First Dance"
50th Wedding Anniversary

On our drive home, my mom and I talked about Grandpa's answers to my questions and ended up in a fabulous conversation about 1970s politics.  It was lengthy and surprisingly intense.  Then I asked about her experience with Grandma that afternoon.  "It's amazing to think," she said, "that we can touch history.  The censuses that Grandma and I were going through were from 1910 and 1920.  Someone held those papers in 1910, they wrote with their pens on those papers.  It's incredible."

History means everything to me.  I want to work as an archivist because I want to touch history every day.  I want to feel a closeness to people who have long past.  I want to recognize that the documents stored in archives are not pieces of paper, but have stories behind them.  Someone, somewhere, took the time to write whatever is on those papers.  Someone, somewhere, with a story of their own.

History is remarkable.  There is nothing I have ever been more passionate about.  There is nothing quite like it.

This is my sunshine.  This is what gets me through cloudy days.

<3 Mel
  

1960s Spiel

Side note before my spiel begins: Today I got a package in the mail.  It was from my mom.  In it was a brand-new set of bath towels.  Brand-new bath towels, of the Vera Wang variety.  Yes, I do now own Vera Wang towels.  And they are glorious.  If I ever chance to meet Vera, the first thing I will do is thank her for producing such luxurious bath towels.  Honestly, they are the most delightful things.

The reason I got brand-new Vera Wang bath towels is because I asked for new towels for Christmas.  My $2 ones from Walmart have become threadbare.  I was so excited to open them Christmas morning.  But SURPRISE! Early Christmas for me!!

. . . What has college life done to me?  The other day I was raving about my apartment's new microwave, and now these towels. . . College changes a person.  It really does.  Honest.

And now for my spiel:

I love The Beatles.  Love. Them.  Their music, their hair, their culture, their insanity, all of it.  LOVE.  I have three Beatles t-shirts, a Beatles blanket, various Beatles paraphernalia, etc. etc.

So I got a new Beatles t-shirt.  I was quite fond of it.  I wore it to my U.S. History 1945-2000 class.  We happened to be studying the 1960s that day.  Awesome.  So I settled into my extremely small and incredibly uncomfortable desk and awaited the PowerPoint lecture for the day.

So along rolled the '60s — civil rights, 'freedom' rights, Vietnam, drugs, etc. etc. — and suddenly we arrived at the British invasion, and there were my boys.  Paul, John, Ringo, and George.  With their floppy hair and exquisite accents.  Love, I tell you.

The teacher lectured on and on, and we watched various video clips of the Beatles and how the British invasion affected American culture — everyone wanted the Beatles haircut, everyone wanted to go to their concerts, everyone wanted Paul to fall in love with them, etc. etc.  We also watched as they joined (led?) the drug culture.

At this point, amidst video clips of a completely stoned/high crowd watched the completely stoned/high Beatles play their music, the kid sitting next to me in my history class turned around, glanced at my shirt, then glared.  His piercing eyes scolded me very loudly.
"Do you realize what you are supporting? Do you realize that those people on your shirt did DRUGS? Do ya? Do ya?" 

YES, kid in my history class whom I have never spoken to.  I DO UNDERSTAND that the Beatles did drugs, and that they probably did a lot of other bad things, and they were BRITISH for goodness sake.  But you know what? They made darn good music while they were doing it! You're just JEALOUS!

Sorry.  I'm done now.

(I also love all other 1960s music, especially Motown. The Temptations. I've got sunshiiiiinneee, on a cloudy day.  When it's cold outsiiidddee, I've got the month of May.  You can't beat that.  You just can't.  That is all.)

<3 Mel

Catch CCR and Put 'Em in Your Pocket

Wo is me! I am a terrible person.  Particularly a blogger-person. It's been a whole week! Honestly, I don't know why it's so hard for me to keep up with this.

Moving on.

Yesterday I was walking on campus toward my first class for the day.  I was strolling along, laden down with heavy books (as always), earbuds in my ears playing awesome oldies songs.  As I walked I began recognizing that I was attracting the attention of many people around me.  They were not happily acknowledging my existence but rather were staring incredulously, as if I were incredibly stupid for some reason or another.  I couldn't understand it.  Was it because the buckles on my boots jingled when I walked?  I admit they made a slightly irritating *clink clink* noise with every step.  No, that probably wasn't it.  OH NO, was I not wearing pants? Nope, my jeans snuggly covered my lower body.  I definitely had a shirt on, since I was bundled up against the winter chill that after nearly three years I am still unaccustomed to.  What was it then?  I turned my music up louder and lowered my head.  That was when I noticed.  My earbuds were in my ears, all right.  But they weren't attached to the device that was playing the music.  Creedence Clearwater was blasting out of my coat pocket.  And everyone was staring.

I was thrown into wakefulness by the horrendous musical chimes of my alarm clock.  Seriously, no matter which tune I choose for my alarm, it is always annoying.  Always.  I think it's impossible to wake up gently from an alarm.  The only way is to wake up when you just can't sleep any longer.  That's the way it should be.  Moving on. . . I was very very happy to realize I had been dreaming.  Honestly, a girl can only take so much embarrassment in her life.  I certainly couldn't handle this story if it were true.  I have plenty of true stories to make up for it, though, believe me.

<3 Mel

11-20-12

Today I am grateful for memory and the ability to record and study history.

I am grateful for a grandfather with whom I can have intelligent conversations about Lincoln, World War II, and 1970s politics.  I am grateful that I can learn so much from him, just by listening and asking him questions for a couple of hours.

I am grateful for my mom and grandmother who are working diligently on our family history.

I am grateful for the sunshine of San Diego, and for my car.  I am grateful for the opportunity I have to drive my car around town with the windows rolled down, listening to music.

I am grateful for long talks about the past, present, and future while stuck in traffic on the I-5.

I am grateful to be living in this time period, however difficult it may be.

I am grateful for brand-new bath towels that are fuzzy and don't leave you wet after you've tried to dry off.

I am grateful for a new toothbrush.  The other one was very prickly.

<3 Mel

11-19-12

Today I am grateful for airplanes and the ability to fly from Utah to California in a matter of hours.

I am grateful for a home in San Diego with a great big family who loves me, and with whom I get to spend a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday break.

I am grateful for the opportunity that I have to go to BYU with my cousin, and fly with her rather than by myself.

I am grateful for my love of reading and writing, and for opportunities to apply for scholarships for wonderful college programs.

I am so grateful for my family and am so excited to be seeing them tonight for the first time in three months.

I am grateful for my little sister, who just got her first car.  I still can't believe she is almost 16 and has been practicing driving.

Mostly, I am so grateful for the chance to take a break from the stress of college life and enjoy sunny California!

<3 Mel

A Whole New World

"Formally Submit Application?"

Nah, that phrase isn't daunting at all.  But I did it.  I submitted my application and now all I can do is wait.  Wait for a response to my application for a scholarship to study abroad in Italy in the spring, my first experience out there in the great big world.

You know when you have an incredible desire in your heart, so exciting and powerful that you just can't believe it won't come true, but you also know you must repress it so that it won't hurt as badly if it doesn't come true? That is the worst kind of desire, because it's also the best.

I'm generally someone who follows the flow of things, never having a strong opinion about anything in particular, or in the very least never expressing any opinion I may have.  So to be strongly attached to this idea of the possibility that I could go to Italy is relatively new to me, which makes it all the more exciting.

So I must wait and hope.  But I also have the assurance that even if I don't receive the scholarship, I will have the opportunity to go there someday.  Even if it's not for a while.  If it's not for a while, it will still be worth the wait.

Hoping and searching for the sunshine. . .

<3 Mel

You May Say I'm a Dreamer

"Done is better than perfect."

This is my new mantra.  This should be the title of my blog.  Nay, this should be the title of my life.

I need to learn to think this way.  Perfectionism is a serious illness, at least as it affects me, in that it hinders one's ability to complete projects in a timely manner.

Done is better than perfect.  Especially when perfect can never be attained.

That's my spiel for the day.  And so it goes.

On an entirely different topic. . .
I wanted to lay out my life goals, in one enormous, probably unrealistic timeline of my aspirations. . . just to get it out there.  So humor me for a few minutes. Thanks.

I will graduate Brigham Young University with a degree in History in the Fall of 2013.  In the Winter of 2013, I will participate in an internship (preferably paid) to gain experience in archival work.  Then I will obtain a career as an archivist in some museum or library, and I will get to work with historical manuscripts and artifacts of all kinds.  Then I will marry a tall, dark, and handsome —obviously— man in either the San Diego or Washington, D.C. temple (because those are my favorites) and I will have three children, two girls and a boy.  I will quit my job as an archivist when I have children, and will begin working as a writer.  I will be paid to blog and/or write creative nonfiction or historical fiction, from my computer in my home, while still being a stay-at-home mom.  And so it will go.  And my life will be grand.

I know.  My life will be awesome.  Don't be jealous.

I am of course being facetious.  But it's fun to dream.

Doing my best to find the sunshine. . .

<3 Mel