Like Pinterest, But Old School

My Aunt pressed this falling apart box into my hands on a recent visit, "It's a bunch of clippings that Grandma-Great saved--thought you might appreciate it."  (Grandma-Great was our family's special title for my great-grandmother.)

A few days later, I started to sort through them.  

Of course, many were meaningless to me--just little pretty nothings.  A few were terribly amusing, if only for the, "Why on earth would someone save this?" factor.  

But I loved the more practical bits, like the cleaning tip, above.

And the letters--although there were precious few!

And the bits written out in her own handwriting.  I may be reading too much into it, but I think something has to be really important for you to write it out on purpose like that.

And then there were a few--maybe five, out of the hundred or so--that really spoke to me too.  I suspect my great-grandmother and I may have differed on many things, but maybe we would have had a few in common as well?

Sorting through the clippings got me thinking--I have a box just like this, kind of.  But my "box" is digital.  

I wonder if I should print it out so that my great-granddaughter can stumble onto it someday?  I wonder if she'll pick up on my huge crush on Alan Rickman?  I wonder if the bits I've saved on marriage and motherhood will speak to her, should she choose those paths?  I wonder if the Roald Dahl quote that I love ("Those who don't believe in magic will never find it.") will make chills run down her spine, the way it does mine?

I worry that these sorts of discoveries--shoe boxes of clippings, old diaries--are going to become rarer as everything is increasingly online.  Of course, you can't miss what you don't know existed, but I think we all may be a little poorer for it.