Family Keeper

I am the family historian. There is one in every family and I appointed myself probably at birth. I remember as a child climbing to the top shelf of our closet pulling down old pictures of dead ancestors, gazing at them wondering about their stories. At night I would read their journals and listen to them tell their stories. I sat for hours with my grandmother soaking up all her years of wisdom. At night instead of a bedtime story I begged my dad for a story about his past. It is hard for me to pin point this fascination but it seems to stem from a need to connect with the past, present, and future.

I need to understand where I came from. Why was I born to my parents, in America, in the state of Utah, in the city of Bountiful. It is definitely not a coincidence. What were the events leading up to this? Many of my ancestors are Mormon pioneers who left their homes and families to join a new church. What made them risk their lives to travel across the plains of the United States only to settle in a desert? These are questions that I have always had a desire to find the answers to. I think if I understand my past maybe I can understand myself just a little more.

Presently, my family stories are my life's compass. My ancestors have taught me gratitude, faith, and compassion. When I complain about our one bedroom apartment with AC, a washer and dryer, and plenty of closet space. I think about my grandparent's first home with walls that creaked as the wind flowed through them all the way to the wallpaper that they watched sway back and forth for hours of entertainment.

When I wonder about God, I think of my grandfather dying at the young age of 39 leaving behind a family with young children and never denying his faith in God and Christ.

I treasure every moment with my child when I think about my great grandmother pulling the lifeless body of her toddler from the creek.

I am grateful for disposable diapers as I picture my own mother living in Africa with her first child and washing his diapers in the bathtub.


I hope to carry on this great legacy to my own children. I hope that they will enjoy our family history as much as I have. Maybe my posterity will marvel at my own struggles like surviving chicken pox and life without the internet and cell phones , so if your family is without a historian then maybe you should appoint yourself. It will enrich your life and also generations to come.

A Women's Company

As I walked through the door and spotted a foosball table and two arcade games I wondered if maybe I had time warped into a Nicklecade instead of entered into a internet company who's networth just peaked in the billions. I guess games like this make a building look inviting and like a fun place to work at; however, as a woman these toys just wouldn't energize me. It made me wonder what type of amenities would be mandatory in a company run by women.

First the lounge would not be filled with silly games, instead there would probably be a lot of comfy couches where we could sit around and talk. We could talk about our children, the weather, fashion, our husbands, and our feelings. We could complain about problems and talk about all the possible solutions and instead of implementing a plan we could sit on the couches and talk some more.

There would be soothing background music that seemed to not have a beginning or end and flowed like a fountain. It would be uplifting without being indulgent. Most likely Chopin or some other Classical music from the Romantic period.

The candy machines would be filled with a variety of chocolates. From dark chocolate that is so bitter it almost burns your tongue to the sweetest creamiest milk chocolate that melts in your mouth. Of course any chocolate made in America would have to be banned because although we do so many things right chocolate just isn't one of them.

Now these would be some perks I could get used to. If you worked for a Women's company what would you add??

to be continued....