Keep A Diary And Make A Gift Of The Past To The Future
If you become a diarist, you may well find a subtle but interesting metamorphosis taking place in your daily life. You will become a reporter. Your eye and your mind will catch the small things that happen all about you, every day. When did the first robin return in the spring? When did the last forest come this year and kill of those seedlings you so hopefully planted? When did we pay our last insurance premium? When did I get my last raise? And what about the vacation trip you took to Europe you’d saved up for? Memorable times not to be lost.
A diary can be the long of your life written for family scrutiny and enjoyment, or it can be as private and personal as the innermost yearnings and aspirations of the human mind. Those blank pages can become a warm and receptive friend, waiting for you to say your say, then be tucked away, locked and silent.
Diaries have the power to place matters in proper perspective. One of my wife’s entries of some years ago: “we’re so worried about bills we can hardly sleep for warring. Rent, light bill, dentist, insurance. Now the car…..Where is the money to come from?”It is a true despair.
Reading those words, we look back. We don’t remember where the money came from. But we got it, somewhere, somehow. We see that things are not always as bad as they seem. The pages of a diary teach us that there is a sunrise, every 24hours.
How many times have we heard people say, “The history of my family, or my life, would make a book?” Well, if you are one of these, why not start your book now? Memory can be a feeble, ephemeral thing.
My father came to this country from Ireland 90 years ago by sailing vessel. The journey took three months. While that storm lashed crossing was still fresh in my father’s mind, I was old enough to be curious, to ask why it took three months to cross the Atlantic, all he could remember was that the ship had lost its rudder. Sails were ripped to shreds, some people died. But it was all so long ago. He couldn’t recall what his impressions were as the ship finally entered New York harbor. “I guess I was afraid,” he would say. “I guess I was excited. I think I had five dollars, but I can’t remember.” If only my father had kept a diary!
You may never fight in a war against your own countrymen. But you are you, and important to yourself and to those who come after you. Record your thoughts, deeds, the taxes you pay.
Every human life as a free-fall through time, lives of great people are recorded for posterity, but what of your life, and mine? As we travel through our time, our own space on this planet, should we not leave our own record? Those who come after us will want to know where we thus, they came from. A diary can be our priceless legacy to the future.




