Prior to discarding several printed pages of information, I documented twenty–six individuals and dozens of sources. I should have approached this project months (years?) ago. I confess to being a procrastinator. I’ll repeat this truism: “Too soon old, too late smart.”

Do I continue to “save” decades–old genealogy? I’m reviewing volumes of information and grudgingly throwing away a lot of paperwork. **IF** my scanner had not become an ant’s nest (2021) I might have continued the project of scanning and saving to Digitized Library of Family History. Truthfully, I have not been very efficient for the past three years. The Covid pandemic pushed me into hibernation. The only thing that gave me solace was immersion in Ancestry.com.

A little bit here and a little bit there!

.

Look at the outdoor thermometer: Almost ninety degrees on my porch, in the shade. Look at the “walker” given to me by my ninety–five–year–old neighbor. Inside my trailer home, too much clutter; I can’t use the walker indoors. I’m still depending upon one cane.

DISCOURAGED!! Recent rain storms soaked boxes of things I’d moved to the porch. I suspect this hastens my “discards.” (Discard those water-soaked items?) For more than three years, I have asked for porch roof repairs. Usually, I refrain from storing things (on the porch) that would be damaged—but I’m in a new project. I can’t walk down and up the porch steps!! Correction: I can walk up and down but I dare not have anything in my hands, or arms.

Read my POSTSCRIPT attached to yesterday’s blog message. I went to Linda’s website and was captivated by this poem.

While sorting through written material. I came across this poem. I’m reluctant to toss an entire file folder of information; I examine the contents before tossing most… into a large black trash bag.

Spending Your Dash ?

I read of a man who stood to speak at the funeral of a friend.

He referred to the dates on her tombstone–from the beginning to the end.

He noted that first came her date of birth and spoke the following date with tears.

But he said what mattered most of all was the “dash” between those years.

For that “dash” represents all the time that she spent alive on earth…

And now only those who loved her know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own, the car… the house… the cash.

What matters is how we live and love and how we spend our “dash.”

To think about this long and hard… Are there things you’d like to change?

For you never know how much time is left. That can still be rearranged!!

If we could just slow down enough to consider what’s true and real,

And always try to understand the way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger, and show appreciation more,

And love the people in our lives like we’ve never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect, and more often wear a smile…

Remembering that this special dash might only last a little while.

So, when your eulogy’s being read with your life’s actions to rehash…

Would you be proud of the things they say about how you spent your dash?

Linda Ellis

POSTSCRIPT @ 10:30 AM, 10 May 2023: The following is my response to Linda Ellis shortly after I read her comment to yesterday’s message.

SINCERE THANKS, Linda, for your comment attached to my blog message. It was such a delightful surprise to see your message. I apologize for not doing a Google search to see if I could find the name of the author. I typed the poem into my computer from a piece of paper among old family history records (and it said “author unknown”).

Now, Linda, a question: Do you know of an individual, or organization, that would be interested in a large box of poems? I’m eighty-eight years old and I have been collecting poems since I was a teenager. My choice was poems of comfort, love, and faith, and they need to rhyme. At one time, I thought I’d reprint the poems into a website. Now I am in the process of “downsizing” so I can move to an assisted living facility. It grieves me to throw genealogy (and poems?) into the dumpster.

Very best wishes from Lorraine Frantz Edwards

I’m moving at a snail’s pace. Little by little, I’m able to whittle…  Whittle away at the stuff to discard or pack to save.

.

I was curious: “Is there a bruise?”  After a dozen pictures, I had images that illustrate the bruise. It wasn’t easy to get a picture of my backside because the camera was at arm’s length (in front) and aimed at the leg while I was standing in front of the mirror. ~~ I’m in pain, and I’m still hobbling around with a cane.

“What part of the body are we praying for?”  The left side of my body from the shoulder to the thigh. That’s the side I fell on. I still believe there are no broken bones, Praise God. Here it is, Saturday, and I still cannot walk without the cane. Honestly, I can hardly walk. It became so uncomfortable sitting in my glider/recliner all day and half the night so I tried the bed. It is agonizing to try and stretch out in bed. I’ve spent three hours, each, in bed, Thursday night and Friday night. ~~ As you might imagine, my “downsizing projects” are at a standstill. My mind was determined to “downsize” my overabundance of stuff. I was going to ignore Ancestry.com. I’m angry with myself for this interruption of my good intentions!!

I added TGIF  for a smile. With a “heavy” problem we need “light” humor. I’m limping around and know “recovery” is just around the corner.

.

.