Your life matters. Share your story.
Everyone’s life matters. We all have stories to tell and knowledge to share with others, especially with those we love. Stories connect us to each other, to the past, to our history.
Time passes whether we acknowledge it or not. Caught up in life’s routine, we don’t always notice – until life sends us a wake-up call. It could be a scare, like a serious diagnosis or unexpected illness, or a happy event like a milestone birthday or anniversary. We suddenly become very aware of the years slipping away.
Memories are precious, but their details fade. You might remember a vague story about someone you love, but the details are fleeting and vague. If you can’t pick up the phone to ask about them, that story is gone.
My grandparents passed when I was a teenager. My parents have been gone almost a decade. I wish I had taken the time to sit down with them individually when I had the chance, to talk with them, to get to know the people they were. To hear them talk about their successes, their fears, and their outlook on life. What was their favourite food? Colour? Childhood memory? These questions won’t be answered if we don’t make time to listen. Make time to ask the questions, listen to the stories and to learn from what has come before. I missed my chance. Don’t miss yours.
Let's Talk About Your Story
Do you know how your parents met? Your grandmother’s middle name? What was it like to grow up during a World War, or worse yet – to fight in one? Let’s find out. It would be my honour to help you or someone you love to record their story, their wisdom, their voice to help you and your family remember.
Yesterday, June 6 2019, marked the 75th anniversary of D Day – a massive Allied invasion that started the Battle of Normandy and was the beginning of the end of World War II. Canadians stormed the beach at Juno 14,000 strong. Canadian forces saw 359 casualties and...
Mother's Day is difficult, and has been for the last ten years. I lost my Mom to ALS in 2009. She’s no longer here to thank and to spoil every second Sunday in May. Truth be told, I would probably put a card in the mail and call her. Unless she made the effort to come...
It's not yet seven o'clock in the morning. A clump of us are walking from the bus stop to our respective offices to start the week, our heads down. I see the feet of a man standing on the sidewalk in the cold rain, asking for food. "Can you buy me a meal...for a...