When I say “Personal History,” many people think of a huge hard-bound 8 ½ by 11 tome several hundreds of pages long, sometimes in multiple volumes. Typically those pages contain a short life sketch, genealogy charts, transcribed journals, press clippings, photographs and other various factual evidences of someone’s passage upon this earth. What these volumes often don’t include is a substantive, engaging narrative of the individual’s life story.
These family or personal history books are usually the result of a labor of love spanning many years. They are an important and valuable resource to help us understand the life of someone we care about. However, in practical terms, they function more as a reference than a good read.
Several years ago I discovered that a distant relative had put together such a book about one of my ancestors in whom I have a particular interest. The book was filled with letters he had written and contained a transcription of his hand-written journal. (I was so glad to see that, because it saved me untold hours typing it up myself.)
As much as I wanted to learn about this ancestor, though, and as interested as I was already in his life, I found this book difficult to read. I imagine a very small percentage of his descendants will ever read more than a few pages of it. That thought saddens me, and it must frustrate the compiler of this and other similar histories.
I wanted a story—a true one, yes, but nevertheless a story—with a narrative structure and a hero who faces the real struggles of life; sometimes he emerges victorious, sometimes not. Sometimes he learns important life lessons; sometimes I do as I read about him. I wanted his life to come alive to me. But I was disappointed. Only a few pages were devoted to a cursory life sketch that I had already found in other sources.
Because I have an interest in this ancestor, and because I am used to research and am able to uncover the story in the documents, this book is still valuable to me. But I read it at a desk with a notepad rather than curl up with it on the couch on a Sunday afternoon. My children will have a hard time reading it at all, yet they could learn and receive great enjoyment from this man’s life story.
For the average person, family history could be a lot more interesting if we told the stories of the lives in addition to facts. Imagine how fun it would be to read the story of your grandfather or grandmother’s life, with a proper narrative structure and interesting detail that engages your interest. I’m not suggesting we fictionalize life stories—not at all. I am recommending that we flesh out the facts with descriptions, incidents and anecdotes that naturally appeal to our human need to hear stories. Weave in the fun stuff, the funny stuff, the quirky stuff.
The type of life story I am advocating will result in more people reading the histories; and because they are recorded in the form of stories, more people will remember them. These stories will become vital in all senses of the word: full of life, important and even essential stories that have the power to influence and shape the lives of those people who read and hear them. Ultimately, more hearts will be connected and family ties will be strengthened across the miles and across the years. And isn’t turning hearts towards each other the real purpose of preserving life histories in the first place?
