The more I find out about my family's past the more I realize I'm not as crazy as I thought I was. Jeez. Today I went and helped my grandmother put screens back in her windows. She's 81 and doesn't quite get up and down on the step ladder like she used to. While I was there she pulled out some of my great-grandmother's old pictures. I love looking at those things. People who were only just names before suddenly have a face to go with the name. Like my great-great-grandmother Martin. From what I understand the woman was quite the free spirit ( I knew I had to get it from somewhere). Married several times, almost seriously wounded by one of her former husbands and just a downright independent lady. Then there was my own great-grandmother (who I actually knew. she died at the age of 97, I was just getting out of college.) From what my grandmother was telling me she had one heck of a temper and an independent streak to go with it. Lol, no wonder my great-grandpa always had his hearing aid turned down.

Family history is important. At least to me it is. It's where we come from and can give us a window into ourselves. Looking at some of those pictures today I saw some of the same faces I see now, in myself, my sister and my multitude of cousins. As payment for helping my grandma sent a few of the pictures home with me. I immediately went to Target and bought some frames. Now they hold a place on the mantle. Just reminders that there were others not so different that came before me, and hopefully there will be others not so much different coming after.