People and stories from the past.

On Sunday afternoon we drove the four and half hours to Christchurch to spend time with our two boys there and their partners. They were unable to come for Christmas this year so we wanted to catch up with them. Our daughter and husband were also visiting Christchurch. We had pizza on Sunday night with some; we all had a picnic and spent the afternoon together on Monday; this morning we had morning tea with our youngest. We drove home this afternoon. (Tuesday .... it is a long way to go for such a short time but people and relationships are worth it.)

At our picnic my kids, now adults, started telling stories about our family life. For example; Jean used to make a walnut loaf (vegetarian meat loaf thingy) that the kids hated. They used to drown it in tomato sauce to eat it. They told of various hairy experiences we had as a family and some weird things I got up to. (which I won't repeat) They also shared stories about their teachers and some of the local kids and their antics. As I drove home I got to thinking about the stories and my own past. I drive around Dunedin and keep on seeing the homes of people, now dead, who have been in my life. In North East Valley... May and Harry Smith up Watts Road. Brown and Brooks old building on the main street, the firm that Dad had with his brother. (Its up for rent at the moment) Mrs Michaud's old home where she and Alec lived. It was once my Grandmother's house. Betty Galland's house in Mechanic street. As young adults we once painted and wallpapered it to raise funds for some church project. ... and I could go on. As I remembered while I drove I recalled many of the  people and experiences we had in our childhood. This afternoon we drove through Hampden and I recalled a family holiday there with relatives visiting. We drove through Waikouaiti and I actually secretly saluted the farm house on the hill where George and Bessie used to have us kids for holidays and I learned so much about life.  All of us are our own person, but we have within us the good and bad experiences of the past. I am thankful that though we were poor, I did have so many essentially good people who were influences on me in my childhood. I would differ with them as I grew up, and remember getting frustrated with some of them. But essentially their impact was wholesome, caring and resulted in happy memories and stories. I am indebted to so many people. Thanks for the memories, but thanks for the positive shaping... I hope I in my turn, leave good memories when I am just a memory.