As the saying goes, when an old person dies, a library burns down. It is very true. My mother passed away six years ago and I still find myself thinking to call her on the phone and asking her about so-and-so or do-you-remember-when or where where you when such-and-such happened and what did you think about it.
My dad had a fascinating life story but he flatly refused to write a personal history. He said that every personal history he had seen was incredibly self serving, that he felt himself no better than his ancestors whose stories had perished with them, and that no one would care about him after people who knew him personally had all died. After Dad's death I wrote a biography of him. But I can't capture his first person perspective.
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