© 2011 Andrew Kooman
It’s a weighty thought, is it not? The after here. For some perhaps eerie, or cloudy. Perhaps not very worth dwelling on. The thought popped onto my fridge this week as I dug deeper into some personal family history and as I continue to research some significant lives for two different writing projects.
We’re in media-savvy, word infused times where it seems difficult to get the facts straight even as news stories break. We absorb sound bytes the same way we absorb mosquito bites during an Alberta summer, getting hit by some unexpectedly, taking other bytes unawares, even swatting some away in a frenzy.
And it makes one wonder how we remember and what and for how long….
I’m grateful for the things written down by others, especially when it opens a new way of seeing into the past. I’m especially grateful for the words others wrote down by themselves about themselves, their work, their world and their view of it.
The facts of our lives could go unreported, unnoticed, even be misconstrued. Perhaps we will do little of consequence, but even if we do, when we are no longer here we leave it to others to decide the common truth about us.
I’m struck by the thought that it matters most who we are: how we live and what we do. What is said about us, dead or alive, can’t change that.
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