by Pa Rock
Scribbler
When I began posting The Ramble nearly seven years ago, a part of my intent was to offer up a chronicle of what was going on in my life - along with lots and lots of personal opinion. I've tried to keep it interesting and relevant to me, suspecting that someday my grandchildren or their grandchildren might have an interest in learning more about me, my loved ones, and the times in which we lived.
The Ramble, however, was not my first attempt at journaling - nor has it been the longest (yet!). Our young family took a big vacation out west in 1986, and I have recently come up with a hand-written journal that I kept which covered most of that trip. (It was the trip on which Boone and I modeled our very recent jaunt to the west coast.)
Less than two years after I set that unfinished account aside, I again took pen in hand and began to chronicle the daily events in my life. On March 23, 1988 (my fortieth birthday) I started keeping a series of journals that wound up spanning over thirteen years and thirty individual notebooks. I have recently unearthed all of those volumes while transferring "stuff" into and out of storage, and have gathered them into one plastic bin. They are now organized and numbered, and safely secure in the event that any of my descendants ever want to dig through those years.
They were hard years, but the journals recount many happy times as well. Everyone has a story, and more often than not, it's complicated. Mine certainly has been.
Scribbler
When I began posting The Ramble nearly seven years ago, a part of my intent was to offer up a chronicle of what was going on in my life - along with lots and lots of personal opinion. I've tried to keep it interesting and relevant to me, suspecting that someday my grandchildren or their grandchildren might have an interest in learning more about me, my loved ones, and the times in which we lived.
The Ramble, however, was not my first attempt at journaling - nor has it been the longest (yet!). Our young family took a big vacation out west in 1986, and I have recently come up with a hand-written journal that I kept which covered most of that trip. (It was the trip on which Boone and I modeled our very recent jaunt to the west coast.)
Less than two years after I set that unfinished account aside, I again took pen in hand and began to chronicle the daily events in my life. On March 23, 1988 (my fortieth birthday) I started keeping a series of journals that wound up spanning over thirteen years and thirty individual notebooks. I have recently unearthed all of those volumes while transferring "stuff" into and out of storage, and have gathered them into one plastic bin. They are now organized and numbered, and safely secure in the event that any of my descendants ever want to dig through those years.
They were hard years, but the journals recount many happy times as well. Everyone has a story, and more often than not, it's complicated. Mine certainly has been.
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