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