Afraid Very Afraid

While working at Chestnut Ridge Historical Society this past Saturday, several things happened; some were very good and one of which gave me pause to think. First I’ll share the good things because they came first during my day volunteering. I arrived just before opening time, waiting for it to open. I don’t have a key to the facility and was waiting for the “on duty” person. When I am to be the one on duty, I have to remember to take the “communal” key home with me to later unlock the building.

I was glad to see Tom, a white-haired gentleman in his early 90’s. He still has a sharp brain and recalls many of the details and recognizes the names of people from the area. He always makes retrieval of information easy when a guest has a question.

On the desk was a letter addressed to me as corresponding secretary. It was the first return response from a sister society. A thank you from one of the historical societies we sent booklets to try to get artifacts to their proper area. It was a good feeling moment to know that at least one booklet arrived safely and would help another group.

I began cataloguing a myriad of documents a lady brought in a week ago. The stack of receipts, notes, and papers were all from the 1800s. I’d sorted them into stacks earlier, but now the real work began; measuring them, reading them, recording the information found in the document, and finally securing them in plastic sleeves for storage.

During the day, several people wandered in, escaping a child’s birthday party next door. Several were surprised to see our collection and stayed to talk with us. One gentleman was related to my great uncle. I toured with the group, sharing information about our different pictures and displays, occasionally guiding them to a related item. Because they were interested, I stayed about 1/2 hour longer than closing time, but my cohort Tom had to leave.

Then it hit me, I was as talkative as my uncle Dale was at sharing stories and tall tales. I pray I don’t start stringing curse words together making word necklaces like he did. If you’ve read past descriptions of Dale or if you actually knew him, you can understand why I am worried and afraid that I don’t become a modern version of him.