There’s nothing big to say about my days (months, years), either. Maybe someday my sermon and meeting notes, to-do lists, and household chit-chat will inspire a master’s thesis for a Women’s Studies major at a minor state university. It could have chapters such as “She Hates Toilet-Training” and “The Washer is Still Broken.”
One summer out in Missouri, I found my great-aunt’s diaries from the 1940s. She wrote a page a day, neither more nor less. It brought up lots of great memories for my father.
Dear tax,
You would be surprised.
I have several books going at a time, for the various interests I have, as well, as ‘just a journal’. Since our country is in such a flux, for the first time in it’s history, some things just have to be put in a book, because I don’t trust the gatekeepers of the galactic bit and byte bucket, to not do some ‘straining’ of what goes into the bucket, for posterity.
Before Katrina, I had journals going back to before 1990, that contained entries I had found in libraries of other folks’ journals from the time folks came ashore in the New World. All of them were lost.