Thoughts About Memory

            The assigned readings this week, Roy Rosenzweig and David Thelen’s The Presence of the Past: Popular Uses of History in American Life in particular, caused me to consider my own relationship with history and, more so, memory.

            The authors The Presence of the Past surveyed over a thousand Americans from diverse backgrounds about their connection to the past and how it affects their lives. This work especially resonated with me because of the emphasis placed on family history. First, that most Americans trust the stories of their family members memories of specific events more than history books, television, and movies. When reading this finding, I considered my own feelings on the topic. While I don’t think I mistrust history books, I often find myself remembering stories told by my grandfathers and wondering how their memories fit in with whatever the author is claiming about a certain historic event. As a historian, I question many things I read and hear, but am much less likely to question the memories of my trusted family members than the theories of renowned historians.

            The reason I mention my grandfathers specifically is because both men believed in sharing their memories. Further, both men took steps to ensure their past was remembered—as Rosenzweig and Thelen describe in their legacy section found in chapter two. Daniel “Big Dan” McGuinness, my maternal grandfather, lost his first wife in the late 1960s, when their oldest daughter—my mother—was only thirteen years old.  In the late 90s, with failing eyesight and the help of his second wife, Dan wrote a book that detailed the love story between himself and my grandmother. He included photographs and had at least three books bound—one for each other their daughters. As a child I used to sneak looks at that book, stored on the top shelf of my mother’s closet, and stare at pictures of a woman I never met and a younger, less hardened version of the grandfather I knew.

            My paternal grandfather, Bill Shipley, who just passed away about six weeks ago at the age of 91, similarly recorded stories from his life. Around the same time Dan wrote his book, my grandpa Shipley purchased a computer to quickly store his infamous stories before he croaked (as he so gently put it). Though less sentimental and more humorous than Dan’s stories, they had the same idea about leaving their legacies so they would be remembered. My grandfather Shipley served in the US Army Air Corps in World War II. The majority of his stories from the war are sidesplittingly funny.

            His younger brother Raymond Shipley also served in WWII and was in the second wave of men to storm the beaches of Normandy on D-Day. Unlike my grandfather, Uncle Ray never spoke of his time overseas, except (so I’m told) in his younger years when he’d had a few drinks. So imagine our shock when, in 2004, just about a year before my Uncle Ray passed, my dad stumbled upon a website with a transcribed version of an oral history project Uncle Ray participated in. For those of you interested, this is the link to his interview— part of the Rutgers Oral History Archives. Although he didn’t openly discuss it, legacy was just as important to Ray as it was to my grandfather.

            Growing up around these three men, as well as my history-buff parents, and skilled story-telling aunts, it is no wonder I developed such an interest in history at such a young age.