Writing down the tiny little details of life
When I visited the little town of New Richmond, Wisconsin, I discovered something that belonged to my family in the library. It was a little, old, beat-up book that looked like a diary. But it was a day book. And my gggrandmother wrote something in it every day, like the weather, or if she made butter, or if someone visited. And to me, it was pure magic. Yes, she mentions Abraham Lincoln, but that doesn't really matter to me. What matters was to see her life. And yeah, the most frequent comment that she *tweeted* was how cold it was there in Wisconsin. Vermont, where she came from, must have seemed tropical by comparison.
I was forty-two when I read her entry that said, *I'm forty-two today*. And I could see the world through her eyes. In her fifties, she traveled back home to Vermont, and listed the names of relatives that she saw. You know, ordinary things, but the most precious things there are.
Posted by Brad Hall