Monday, December 5, 2016

Hidden Stories

The true past departs not;
no truth or goodness realized by man ever dies, or can die;
but all is still here, and, recognized or not,
lives and works through endless changes.
                                             Thomas Carlyle


Our past may sometimes get put on a shelf or tucked away and forgotten. This could mean, in our minds, or physically set somewhere long ago. Sometimes a scent, a sound or a piece of something found, may bring those stories attached back to where you will once again relive them in your mind.


This is a very common occurrence at auction sales. There are many triggers set off for people during auction sales. For the family whose auction it is, and for those of us who attend the auction. Something will undoubtedly trigger a memory or a story in most people’s minds. They may be all very different memories. Or like me, they will trigger my imagination.


It will come as no secret to my regular readers that My Hero and I attend many auctions. Lately, I have been avoiding them for many reasons but honestly; how many ladders and sets of tools does a girl need to see?

Right this very moment, while I sit in the truck I watch My Hero and Dios with those predictable smiles stand in the crowd while I write this story. They stand in the middle of a bundled-up crowd, while I sit with a cup of tea snuggled under a warm blanket and write. I think I may have the best part of this on this cold blustery day.


I have just come back from the usual walk about to see what was for sale. Whether there was anyone I recognized here, and most importantly, if there were any stories triggered by those things I saw.


There were many tools on many tables and just that alone had me know it was going to be a long stay in the truck for me. I walked over to the old grey-planked barn. It is no secret to anyone that I have a soft spot for those old barns. All barns are full of stories. Like many of us as we age most memories become foggy or forgotten altogether. This was the case of a woman I met who actually grew up here. Those of us who attend the auction, like me, only have our imaginations to what stories lie within.


The past was certainly apparent. It had been set away and possibly forgotten by all the people who live or lived here. It is very true triggers can be set off by the sight of things you had forgotten about. Those wonderful family stories will hopefully be passed on to the next generation. I want to believe that they are still in the minds of someone who remembers. This leaves outsiders, like all of us to use our imaginations.


We all I am sure can use our own imaginations as to what these forgotten stories are. I do believe that the bush will eventually completely hide these triggers and the stories attached. What do you think?


Later 

18 comments:

  1. I use my imagination at all times. It makes life more fun. All older things do trigger some kind of memory. Hope all your memories are good.
    MB

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  2. I hope the stories remain in people's head and hearts long after nature conceals the prompts.

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  3. I love finding things like this...you have to wonder about the life it had...:)JP

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  4. Nature will consume it all. I have a weakness for furniture at farm/household auctions.

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  5. There are so many auctions in your parts, it leaves me wondering about the busy lives all those farms people lived a while back. All the hard work from morning till after dark and the hardships they have endured but also all the god time they had. Neighbours helped neighbours in those days.
    I would hope that some stories will be preserved and retold time and time again. You are capturing an era gone by but not forgotten.
    Hugs,
    Julia

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  6. I think I see a theme here. Car rides. Where did these cars go? who road in them? Why were the cars junked.?

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  7. I also believe the bush and eventually the land itself might hide these story triggers, until one day, when someone comes along and digs, and wonders about things newly unearthed.

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  8. What wonderful photos of neat old stuff. Thanks for sharing your auction adventures as you sit warmly/snuggly in the truck with your cup of tea. :-)

    Happy Christmas holidays ~ FlowerLady

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  9. Carved in a beam in my barn is the name 'Ricky.' I have conjured up all kinds of stories about Ricky as I go about my barn chores.

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  10. Most things conjure up either real memories or creative ones - I prefer the creative ones. I think you definitely have the best position at those auctions!

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  11. I love finding things from the past as I like to make up the stories of them in my mind as I enjoy their beauty and that goes for old barns and houses to , if only they could all talk what stories they would tell of their adventures through the years , the decades . Lovely photos and post . Thanks for sharing , Have a good week !

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  12. Best part of auction sales for me . . .
    Conjuring up the stories in my mind . . .
    (I think your cozy writing space sounds wonderful!)

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  13. Hi Buttons - I really like that you chose to present the photos in black and white for this blog post. Ties in really nicely with the theme you are writing about.

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  14. I like the black and white photos, Miss B. You are right, there are sights, smells and sounds that make us think of memories. It's important to listen to the generations and learn the story of our family heritage. Maybe we need to be more proactive about asking about such things.

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  15. Hope you are well along with the family!
    So many wonderful memories and stories in barns and old machinery, if only they could tell us.
    Hugs M xox

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  16. It is sad to think the stories may never be heard. Thats why it is important for us to write our stories. I have started on my third book of life stories.

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  17. I hope the stories aren't lost because they seem so important. Connections to the past and memories help us navigate the future. I like these B & W photos that speak of age - they made me really look to see what my mind would conjure.

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The mind grows by what it feeds on. J.G. Holland

Thank you so much for your comments, they mean more to me then I could ever express. Hug B

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