My family seemed to know that they were a part of history; not that they were notables  or history makers for anyone other than their own loving family, but a disproportionate amount of them (women included) seemed to have a desire to keep a record for the future.  Now, in a slowly shrinking family, I feel called to make sense of their stories.  My daughter will not have the same thin connection that I had with the First World War, and even the Second World War seems so far away.

So many crumpled, tarnished pictures are stuffed into crates; my family history.  A dutiful caretaker, I have tried to share and protect them as best as I can.   There is so much to do- so many stories and pictures fighting for my attention.

On rainy, ice covered days like these, there are a few extra hours to spelunk into the boxes and come up with a rare discovery, or a new event to place on the timeline of our history. I found so much today.  So many faces lost to history: World War One, World War Two and social ….

This one was wrapped up like the rest: scroll fashion, tight- holding their secrets.  Unwrapping them and scanning them was a challenge at best. It provided a rare opportunity for me to get my seven year old involved in the past and historical exploration.

I apologize for the quality, but if I don’t put them up now, they might be lost for good.  It is a harsh photo; a captured trench and at least two men – their bodies unburied.  War and conflict will always tarnish care and dignity.