Until recently, I was not aware that my great grandmother was a full-blooded Cherokee and that my grandfather was a train-hopping hobo. What I would give for their memories. Sometimes thinking about all of our rich pasts is overwhelming. Too much has happened to us to ever capture and recount. Even if I had these two relatives in front of me for questioning, our memories are merciful. We forget, for better and for worse. Personally, I try to capture my past with photos and videos and journals that can feel more like a chore than a hobby. But if I have learned anything it is that it is just as easy to forget as it is to convince myself I will remember every detail.
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