Thankful Thursday: Tattered treasures
Our two-car garage is too small for both cars–mostly because we’ve handed over a great deal of valuable real estate to stuff. Sound equipment sits alongside gardening tools; family ephemera shares space with old books. Hard to say what’s valuable and not. As it is with most stored collections, the sentimental value far exceeds the practical advantages, not to mention their actual cost.
And so it was with the wrinkled manila folder I carried home with me from Connecticut last year, the name “Sarah Chokla” scrawled in pencil across the tab. I’d first discovered in one of my father-in-law’s filing cabinets when I helped move them into tighter quarters–a metaphor for an expansive life, folded in on itself over time.
I suspect most people would’ve chucked the entire file, unread. Not I, said Nancy Drew. I boxed it up with a jumbled assortment of treasures and what-nots, just in case. Surely the crinkled, yellowed pages represented some sort of goldmine. Otherwise, why would my father-in-law have saved them?
I stumbled across that file again a couple of weeks ago. Curiosity got the better of me, so I brewed myself a cup of tea and dove in. Nestled among a beribboned collection of love letters,* I discovered a bundle of book reviews, published in Dallas-area newspapers between 1928 and 1933, under the byline Sarah Chokla. Sarah had clipped and dated each article, and then mailed them off to her younger cousin. My father-in-law.
What sorts of books got published during that time period, I wondered, and which authors captured her attention? I savored each one of Sarah's book reviews, handling them carefully so as not to tear the fragile pages. And as I read them, I got a clearer picture of that bygone era, grew evermore curious about Sarah herself. In those moments of indulged curiosity, the underlying value of those articles revealed itself to me.
In an increasingly digitized world, I believe there’s something magical about holding history in your hands. The artifacts themselves may not be inherently valuable, but they are Ancestry's purest talismans. Sure, Google’s an option. And most local libraries offer access to old newspapers on microfilm and/or electronic databases. But clipping files and personal ephemera…ah, they oftentimes point the way to a deeper, richer story.
Having survived so many decades thus far, I believe Sarah's clippings deserve a better home than a cardboard box in my garage. And so it is that I’m grateful to my friend Jeanette Larson, who helped connect me with Carla Meador, Library Director for the Motley County Library System. When I spoke with her a couple of days ago (so charming, and I loved her Texas drawl), she was already thinking about ways in which she might incorporate Sarah Chokla’s book reviews into their genealogical/historical files and displays. And I'm thrilled to think that they'll be enjoyed by a wider audience (a new generation!) of readers.
Before shipping them off to Texas, I scanned several reviews to share with family members and friends. I posted this HUMS OF POOH review to Facebook yesterday, but I'm adding it here for those who missed it. And how about a couple more, while I'm at it?
*Another story, another day…
