General Chat

Even if one were lucky enough to have a daily journal of a person what would that really tell us? We would perhaps learn of great deeds, decisions made that have altered the world, discoveries that have benefited mankind. Books are written about kings, queens, great statesmen, heroes, soldiers, and so on. And yet, how do we know what was on their minds, in their hearts? I console myself with this thought. The frustrations are building up over my lack of information on Mary May, the woman who has taken over and become such a part of my life. I tell myself I am being unreasonable. If we cannot probe and delve into the minds of great people who have had countless books written about them what chance have I? Of course I am not comparing the life of a simple dairymaid to that of great men and women, past and present. What I am telling myself is, even if Mary May had kept a daily journal would I know her any better? How can one person know what is in another’s heart or mind? Alas, I am reaching for the stars,. I give myself a good shake, get into a more positive frame of mind and am thankful for what I have. How fortunate I am that some of Mary’s life has been documented and she herself has kept a journal of sorts. As I write this it is brought home to me what a stupid old woman I am. Some days ago I wrote of our trip to Cannock and of my feelings as we walked in places she had walked, our visit to the church where she had married and worshipped. What I had yearned for was to hold and touch something she had held. and perhaps cherished. I have been so stupid and blind! It has been there right under my nose, her journal where she lovingly pasted in parts of her life, some happy, some sad. All the many times I have handled this book and yet, in my eagerness to devour its contents looking for clues I have lost sight of it's true meaning.This then is that something she has touched and cared for, perhaps I did reach for the stars in my quest but feel I got there! At the end of a long day had she gone to her room taking cuttings from newspapers sent from home? We know the Staffordshire papers are there describing garden parties and such events. I gather the musty old journal and hold it close to my heart; I close my eyes and smell the mustiness of years, say a prayer and shed a little tear for Mary May. Memories may lack photographic precision but gain emotional colour. Love Bridget X