Sentimental Journey

I am a sentimental soul. Some would say a sentimental fool but I can't seem to help it.

A lot of people aren't sentimental at all. My sister in fact, says she doesn't have an ounce of sentimentality in her bones. And she doesn't.

Why me?

My sister and I came from the same family, you would think we'd be similar.

So where does my sentimentality come from? I can't tell you, but I can tell you it happens to be fixated on the years 1940-1945. Those War Year's pluck at my heart like nothing else.
I only truly feel relaxed listening to music from that era.

When my good friend bought me an old scrapbook from the 1940's at an estate sale in Carmel, I was very excited. I thought of all the things I could do with it, cut it up, rip the pages out, make collages . . .

But once I got my hot little hands on it, I couldn't put it down, let alone cut it up.

As I was reading through the brittle pages I got a little teary eyed. The estate manager told my friend that there was no one left in the Bishop family, so the scrapbook was being sold.

The pages are chuck full of every aspect of Mrs. Bishop's life. From her c-section receipt, and baby food list, to old cards, and letters from loved ones fighting in WW II. I keep thinking Mrs. Bishop would probably cry if she knew some stranger was looking through her stuff. It breaks my heart.

So so many memories lovingly glued into a book and so much life just sold off to a stranger.

So Mrs. Bishop, where ever you are, I want you to know I hold your memories dear to me. Reading through your scrapbook is a reminder of lonely times, but also how one woman kept the home fire burning, passing time, keeping memories in her book to show to her husband if he returned home to her and their little baby boy.