The reception area of the office was empty. I heard a voice that welcomed me when I walked in, it arriving before the man who spoke it. The young man turned the corner and met me at the counter. “Are you James,” I asked. Yes, he was who I was looking for.

He is the son of a high school buddy of mine who died in 2008. James was a couple of  years older at the time of his dad’s death than his dad was when we first met freshman year in high school. James and I spoke for a few minutes before he had to go to an appointment and I feel sure that we’ll speak again. My hope is to help him understand a bit of his father’s life and persona from the perspective of one of his dad’s compadres. I admit, my motivation is not completely unselfish.

I believe there is a lot to be gained for children to know about the lives of their parents when they were young. I’ve heard from people over the years who said, “I wished my kids knew I was once their age.”  I am reminded of my mother who would remind me of a quote that she loved, “I once was what you are now.” It is that lifelong interest that led me a quarter century ago to reach out to relatives I did not know.

At about the turn of the century, I sent a letter to people in San Antonio and Mississippi with questions. I got the names from my mother’s address book that my sister fortunately still had, though mom had died five years previously. What were my questions? I wanted to know if anyone had seen my dad in the boxing ring in 1932 when he was a professional fighter. I hoped to speak with someone who had seen the man who inspired fascinating news clippings in the sports section of the San Antonio newspaper when the city had a population of only about 231,000. I hoped to find someone who had seen my mother dance or play tennis, both of which she was proud of for her grace and ability. I hoped to find people who knew mom and dad when they courted, as they grew their family, as they coped with a daughter who died at 5 from leukemia.  I had so many hopes to learn more. One night, I received two emails from relatives I had never met. One started out, “Hi, cuz.” I cried. Unfortunately, the people I located had little, if any, insight into the things I sought, but it was good to make the connections.

Unfortunately, by the time we have the wisdom and experience to appreciate and benefit from the stories of our parents’ or relatives’ lives, there is no one left to speak with who has first-hand knowledge.

I hope that someday I can give some insights to James about the young man that his dad was and answer whatever questions that I can.  I hope to give him something that I have sought: a better understanding of my parents’ lives that made them who they were. I know many people feel the same way about their parents, relatives or loved ones.

Each of us can be the bridge for others, connecting years to provide understanding. No genealogical website can provide what we can in person through stories.

(Bring my LIFElines program to your organization, community or congregation, focusing on bringing together seniors and their children, or the generations that comprise your group, to go through the process together. This inter-generational discovery process provides understanding that many seek.)