When our son and his wife visited recently, we had a discussion about my Dad, who was ‘One if the Few’ in the Second world war. I was able to show them some fairly boring photos, which I must get my brothers to have a go at identifying, but could tell them the family tales my mother told me about him.
It then struck me that the kids know nothing about my childhood. I talk about people but never tell them about lives. In this day of media and laptops and everyone taking selfies, or going on the ancestry sites, have we lost track of the simple tradition of telling family stories to our kids. Telling them of the wealth of their heritage, how our families are formed. Writing it down has no guarantee of being passed on. Yet in a generation that is constantly recording itself, we need the family tales told before they are lost forever. There are family shots in my Mum’s album who I have no idea who or why they are there, and now never will do.
Talk, pass it down.