An Uncle threw a pitchfork at my dad to scare him a bit, and it worked. The fork tines pierced his shoe and went right between his toes. Nor permanent damage other than a holy shoe and a story for the grandchildren. As a child, my industrious mom raised tarantulas to sell to the pet store to make some spending cash. 

Family stories are fun to hear and provide some color to the yellowed black and white photos that emerge every couple of years when a distant relative dies. Retelling the family history is a way to remind the current generations of their heritage and provide a sense of belonging and something greater than just the here and now. 

Sitting at the feet of an older generation provides insight into what the world was like many years ago. The greater the difference in age, the greater chance for a bridge to be built from the past to the future. These times of remembrance also provide an opportunity for family relationships to grow stronger. None of our histories are flawless, and there are always stories that are quietly whispered due to the magnitude of the wrong someone committed.

Who would turn down a chance to laugh, cry, be inspired and horrified all during a stroll down memory lane? We can be grateful to those that catalog these family histories, drawing out the older generations about how it was possible to exist before a Google or cell phone.