History

I know this blog isn't my own personal diary, but I have some things I need to get out and this is where I chose to do so.

I love the internet. I love most things about it. I love that I can create a chronicle for my family that is a record and a photo album and a diary all in one. I love that I can create something that I can hopefully save and share with my kids when I'm old and gray. And that they might get a glimpse of their loving mother...and what sort of things we did when they were small. Before they could remember. Before they can keep track of their history.

History is important. Your own personal history is what has shaped you...what makes you who you are today. I wouldn't change my history because I can't. History is comprised of friendships, and stories, and memories. And when you can't remember a lot of your childhood, you wonder about your history. I have a lot of friends who are friends with people they went to college with...or high school with...or junior high...heck, even grade school. My own husband is still good friends with his friends from grade school. I don't have that. And I always always always wish that I did. Because we moved around a lot growing up, I have always felt "forgettable". Like maybe because I didn't go to school with people for a long time, that they don't remember me. Like I have no history. That I'm a series of "do-overs". This is especially true for my high school friends. I went to two high schools. The first was in Sacramento. I felt like I had history with them. It was my longest stint with friends and I went to school with a lot of these kids since the 6th grade. At least until the end of my sophomore year...when we moved to the bay area. And then I started over. Movies make it seem glamorous - starting a new school - being whomever you want to be. But it's not glamorous. Kids are mean. And they don't like making new friends. Mainly because they already have 'history'. Don't get me wrong: I'm thankful for the opportunities that moving gave us as a family but it was extremely difficult for me. I will say that I had to come out of my introverted shell because of our moves....but it was never easy.

Which sort of brings me to the point of this post. There is site called facebook that is essentially a social networking site. It allows you to connect (or re-connect) with your friends and family. And I love it. I really do. I especially love the re-connecting part. I love seeing my new friends and my old friends inter-connected in one place. Over the years, I've become quite good at cutting ties. I don't mean to be. But I am. I've done it for so long that it's second nature to me. A self-preservation technique. After I graduated from college and started making new friends, I've really worked hard at not cutting ties. It's hard for me...and I know I'm not great at it, but I do try. Well, Facebook makes it easy to stay in contact with your friends. It will automatically suggest people that you may know based on any number of criterion: friends of friends, former classmates, etc. I always see the names of people that I went to high school with in the bay area but I don't add them because I've convinced myself that they don't remember me. I search for names of people that I remember from my childhood and for friends from my high school in Sacramento.

I finally struck gold: my friend Diane is on facebook. I haven't talked to her since my sophomore year of high school - and let me tell you - that's more than 20 years ago. But I remember her - and she remembers me. I have HISTORY! I also have a horrible memory, but I remember our slumber parties at her house...riding my 3-speed bike to her house...dances at the school...and that she always signed her in-class notes to me: AGAPE, Diane. She's my 'history'. Someone who remembers me. It sounds so stupid but it just really opens up a huge hole in my heart that has been hidden. A hole that reminds me that it really did hurt all those years ago to move and leave my 'real friends' behind. My history. MY history. The people who remember me with braces - as a teenager, not as an adult. The people that I told when I had my first kiss. The people that remember the shows that we used to make up. The people that remember that awful 80's fashion. The people that I used to go roller skating with. The people that I used to stay up late with talking on the phone. The people that remember the boys we crushed on. Okay - so one person isn't ALL of those people. But it's nice to have one small piece of history.

My promise:
If there's one thing I can remember about what I want for my kids...it's something that has stuck with me since high school. And that's that my kids will have history. I want to hear my son complain that he's sick of all the kids he has known since kindergarten...that he wants to meet new people. I want that for him. History. A very long time in the same house...in the same neighborhood...in the same school district...with the same people that he's known his whole life. THAT is what I want for my son. THAT will make me happy...and it's part of my history. The Martin Family History. The one that began the day I met E...and has continued to bloom and grow through our marriage and the birth of our son.

I love you E and R. You are my history.