Book Reviews & other random stuff

Where do they all belong?

In Uncategorized on October 13, 2008 at 12:31 am

Everyone has a story. Or in some cases, stories. But what happens when they are gone, and there is no one else to tell those stories??

My dad has already lived a pretty amazing life. He had travelled around the world before meeting my mum at the age of 30 and settling down and having kids. He’s lived in England, Africa and New Zealand for a year at a time. I am still hearing of different jobs that he has had including an electrician, carpet layer and most recently ICEE man. He has thousands of stories to tell and, even though I sometimes get sick of hearing them, I think they should be told.

His uncle was a POW. The family didn’t talk to him about it, thinking that he wouldn’t want to talk about it. My father had the opportunity once or twice to discuss it with him, and now wishes he had more of a chance to do so, as he feels that his uncle needed someone to discuss it with. His was a story that definitely should have been told.

I often wonder what stories the people around me have. Walking through Martin Place I sometimes think, “where is that person going? Who are they meeting? What are they thinking?”

I like to go to airports and just people watch. And wonder. “Who are they meeting? Where are they going? Where has the person been that they are meeting?”

It’s one reason that I feel sad when I see homeless people. They have stories, they have a reason (or cause) for being there. But no one will most likely ever know because they will almost always die alone. I have had an idea that I’ve been thinking of for ages. First of all it was just to collect stories written by ordinary people on different subjects. Eg. their experiences with love, or travelling etc. But then I thought it should be narrowed down a little, so I thought why not homeless people? They have every right to have their story told, and maybe even more so as they are unlikely to have anyone to remember them or their stories.

A saying that I often hear in the media when someone passes away is “They are survived by {wife, family etc}”. I like that – I like to think that a memory of us is survived by our family and our loved ones, through our combined memories and the stories that we pass on.

** I’m not sure who this photo is originally by but I found it at **

  1. Have you ever noticed the correlation that the more stories people have that the richer a character they are. Or even more relevant the more horrid life events that a person has prevailed through the stronger and usually a better person they are.

  2. yes that’s true quixotic. Our stories make us the people that we are.

  3. Good for people to know.

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