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Sunday Morning Musing

Do you ever wonder about all the stories that have been lost? My mother passed away a couple of years ago, and I lugged boxes of papers and photos from her house back to mine. We had talked about going through them together for years. But children, time, miles and illness took it's toll and I inherited a whole bunch of fascinating mysteries. I spent a summer sorting and labeling photos; I still have a bin marked "Who is this?" for when I can spend time with my 95 year old Aunt. She is the last of my family who would have any recollection of who some of these people are. Oh, I hope we can get together soon.

I found these in with my grandparent's papers. In 1968, it appears that they travelled to Sao Paulo, Brazil and were witnesses to a wedding. The certificate looks original, printed in black with their signatures in blue pen. With the certificate is a lovely postcard book of Limeira, inscribed "Dear Godmother" and signed by the bride and groom. How long were they there? What did they do? Is this family? Is there family in Brazil? I want to know more!!! But there is no one left who might remember. The story is lost. Just a couple of pieces of paper that my grandparents kept for almost 50 years, then my mother kept for a few more. I never saw souveniers of the trip, or heard anyone talk about it.

They must have planned it. Looked forward to the flight. I am sure my grandmother wore stunning outfits and the coolest sunglasses. Was it a glamorous trip? Where did they stay? What did they think of the food? What were the parties like? Did they fondly remember the trip? Was there a "drunk uncle" story from the wedding? Lost, the story is just lost.

And does it even matter?

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