“Mom’s Spaghetti and Meatballs”

Red sauce may have run in her grandmother's blood, but every member of the family would come to know the recipe by heart (even if the size of a "pinch" of this and a "dash" of that differed depending on who was making it)...

Smells—in this case, of garlic and oregano—and tastes conjure memories in a most primal way, and can transport us right back to our childhood kitchens. As such, they are excellent jumping-off points for writing or talking about your memories and crafting them into a story for generations to come (not to mention, the kids will be thrilled to have those cherished recipes actually written down).

In this second contribution in our series, A Taste of the Past, a family passes down the secrets to their own version of spaghetti and meatballs, never writing down a recipe, but always cooking with love and remembrance. Join me in raising a glass (red wine, of course) in honor of Kaitlin Ahern's shared food memory. Cin cin!

A Taste of the Past

The family behind the red sauce: the writer’s mom, Darice, in her mid-twenties, with her parents, Martin and Veronica Smith. Circa 1975

Mom's Spaghetti & Meatballs

By Kaitlin Ahern

I have few memories from childhood more vivid than watching my mother cook dinner. The sight of her standing at the stove in our small kitchen, wooden spoon in one hand and glass of wine in the other, creating a meal for our family of four, is easier to conjure than what I had for breakfast yesterday. And although she passed away when I was barely 17, I’m lucky enough to know many of her recipes by heart.

Mom was the dinner-maker in our household, a task she loved or lamented, usually depending on how stressful the workday had been. She was happiest to cook on weekends, when the hustle of work, sports practice, and homework died down and she could take her time with a meal. That’s when she’d make spaghetti and meatballs—a staple she made so often that she could have made it in her sleep; now I can, too.

I think she loved that meal so much because the two key ingredients tied back to her roots. It all started, of course, with the sauce. Mom’s mom, my grandmother Veronica, was 100 percent Italian; red sauce ran in her blood. When I picture our kitchen from my childhood, I see a pot of sauce simmering on the stove, filling the downstairs with the delicious scents of garlic and Italian spices. The mixture of crushed tomatoes, onion, garlic, basil (fresh from the garden when we could get it), oregano, olive oil, and salt would cook slowly for several hours, covered except when one of us peeked open the lid to scoop up a taste with a piece of crusty bread. The recipe was never written down, to my knowledge, but each member of our family knew it by heart—although the size of the “pinch” or “dash” of this and that was different depending on who was making it.

The other ingredient was ground beef for the meatballs. Our family has always made all-beef meatballs, despite the Italian tradition to mix beef and pork. The preference was really born out of convenience—Mom’s dad was a beef farmer, and he passed that passion down to his oldest son, who still supplies our growing family with grass-fed steak, ground beef, and stew meat. Mom would combine the pound or so of Uncle Marty’s beef with one egg, a splash of milk, parsley, and just enough breadcrumbs to hold it all together, but she always let the flavor of the meat be the star—a small way of showing how proud she was of her big brother’s hard work. After browning the meatballs in olive oil, she’d cover them with the sauce and let them simmer away for an hour or so, or until we were ready to eat. Leftover sauce (if there was any) was tossed in the fridge and saved for Friday night, when Dad would make pizza.

Mom never went as far as making her own spaghetti, so that part of the meal came from a box. But she’d always make a big salad tossed in a homemade Italian dressing with olive oil, vinegar, garlic salt, and dried basil and oregano.

“I didn’t fully realize the gift my mother had given me by teaching me her recipes until I moved out of my childhood home.”

I didn’t fully realize the gift my mother had given me by teaching me her recipes until I moved out of my childhood home. Her spaghetti sauce comforted me when I was far from home studying in London, and I basically lived on salads with her homemade dressing when I was just starting out in New York City after college and could afford little else.

I miss her terribly. But when I’m in the kitchen, tunes cranked up, simmering a pot of red sauce on the stove and making meatballs with Uncle Marty’s grass-fed beef, a glass of wine in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other, I know she’s there with me, as present as the smell of garlic in the air and the recipe in my heart.

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Kaitlin Ahern is a writer and editor who grew up riding horses and now rides the New York City subway. She enjoys running, traveling, cooking, and all things animals, because you know what they say about taking the girl out of the country. You can follow her on Instagram.  

“Pop’s Pie”

Maybe it’s a grandfather’s love that is the missing ingredient to the best key lime pie...

Smells & tastes conjure memories in a most primal way, and can transport us right back to our childhood kitchens. As such, they are excellent jumping-off points for writing or talking about your memories and crafting them into a story for generations to come (not to mention, the kids will be thrilled to have those cherished recipes actually written down).

In this first contribution in our new series, A Taste of the Past, a young mom remembers her beloved grandfather, and the sugary treats he often made just for her. Oh, how sweet the memories...

A Taste of the Past

The writer's first birthday, Oct. 29, 1981: Three generations—grandparents Catherine & John, their daughter Joann, and her daughter Christine—celebrate with one of Pop’s pies (rest assured, there was a first birthday cake, too, as Mom is quick to point out!)

Pop’s Pie

By Christine Tarulli Mugnolo

I’ve always been a sweets person. That is to say, I’ll be happy with dessert for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I believe I have my grandfather partly to thank (blame?) for that…and for my own sporadic hobby of making delectable treats. 

My grandfather and grandmother eloped to Colorado in 1942. Soon after, as an officer in the army, he was stationed in Anzio, Italy, for the remainder of World War II. In between the fighting, Pop did what he did best—he cooked. He became the chef for his fellow officers and higher-ranked officials. And when he was finally home, he was head chef for his family.

There was nothing that Papa loved more than watching us devour what he made on any given day. And he never, ever forgot dessert. 

I always felt Pop made dessert especially for me, his chubby, sweets-loving granddaughter. I would sometimes catch him beaming at me, all messy-faced and sticky-fingered. How his smile and hearty laugh would light up the entire room!

While I loved his cookies and his pretty lattice cherry pie, Pop’s key lime pie was my absolute favorite. It was always amazing: thick, buttery graham-cracker crust, sweet yet tart filling, and just a few twisty limes on top as garnishment. 

As I got older, the pies seemed to get even more delicious, prettier, and, ultimately, simply perfect. 

Pop passed away on December 16, 2001, when I was a senior in college. I was—I still am—devastated. I always will be. We lost our family’s heartbeat, our core, and I lost my Papa.

I think that’s when I started to bake. And I baked all the time then—for my family,
for my friends and boyfriends. I adored watching them taste all the goodness that
I (lovingly) shoved in their faces. 

I don’t remember when my grandmother gave me my grandfather’s key lime pie
recipe. But when she did, it was as if she were handing me the damn Holy Grail. It’s been about 14 years, and I still cannot get it just right. I make the pie once or twice a year; it’s my special time with him. No TV, no one else in the room...just the two of us. How I curse that Pop didn’t write down what he really did to make his pie so great! 

Eventually, I made my own tweaks. While my pie is good, it’s not as good as I remember his to be…and not nearly as beautiful. But that’s okay; it doesn’t have to be.

I have his—our—faded and butter-stained recipe, which, to me, is more beautiful than any pie. And I take it out every time I make it.

If I could have a few more hours with him, I’d introduce him to my daughter (oh, he would just eat her up!); I’d dance with him and not give him a hard time about it; and we’d bake together, so I could finally learn his secrets to the best key lime pie I have ever had.

Love and miss you always, Papa.

-----------------------

Christine Tarulli Mugnolo is a wife to a traveling husband, stay-at-home-mom to a very active toddler and two rescue pups, and in her spare time, a freelance editor. She thinks there’s no better smell than that of an old book from the library.

Pop’s Key Lime Pie Recipe

Crust
1 1/2 packs graham crackers, crushed

2 tablespoons margarine 

Filling
8 eggs, separated (yolks only)

2 cans condensed milk

6 ounces lime juice (from about 6-7 limes) or Nellie & Joe’s Famous Key West Lime Juice

green food coloring (optional)

To make crust:
Combine graham crackers and melted margarine in bowl, then press into pie pan. Chill 30 minutes before pouring in pie filling.

To make filling:
Preheat oven to 350°

Combine egg yolks with condensed milk in medium bowl.

Mix well. Add lime juice a little at a time until smooth and creamy. Add a touch of food coloring until filling is desired color. Pour into pie shell. Slice a lime very thinly and add slices to top of pie before baking. Bake at 350° for 20 minutes.

The writer’s grandfather, John Carl Esposito (April 25, 1922 - December 16, 2001), in uniform in Pueblo, Colorado, where he was stationed before going overseas; 1942

A taste of the past

Smells and tastes conjure memories in a most primal way, and can transport us right back to our childhood kitchens. As such, they are excellent jumping-off points for writing or talking about your memories and crafting them into a story for generations to come (not to mention, the kids will be thrilled to have those cherished recipes actually written down).

Delve into your food-related memories if...

• you have a living relative who can be equated with the family hearth: recording those recipes, techniques, & special foods while you can is an invaluable gift for future generations

• family holidays center around the table

• milestone celebrations come back to you in waves every time you smell a certain dish

• you want to preserve your culture

Foods Stir the Memory

On Tuesday we will be launching a new series of posts, A Taste of the Past, in which food plays a starring role, leading us down a path of reminiscence and reflection.

In the first contribution, Christine Mugnolo recalls her grandfather's singular key lime pie: Why can't she recreate it just so? 

“It’s been about 14 years, and I still cannot get it just right. I make the pie once or twice a year; it’s my special time with him. No TV, no one else in the room...just the two of us.”

In another post, Kaitlin Ahern pays tribute to her mom’s spaghetti and meatballs, and you'll raise a glass with her to toast the memory of a mother gone too soon (and I guarantee you'll be uncorking a bottle of red, picking some basil from the garden, and putting on a pot of red sauce yourself—and, if all goes well, you'll be conversing around the dinner table about your own favorite handed-down recipes).

In “Billie’s Famous Foods,” Melissa Finlay recalls how her Gramma kept a jar for bacon drippings on her stove, used it liberally, and kept it full. “She knew everyone’s favorite foods and provided them—often.”

I hope these and other upcoming stories will inspire you to want to record your own memories. When you've gathered enough, or decide you'd like our professional help in recording them for posterity, an heirloom book is the perfect place to preserve them.

Related Reading:

If the idea of bottling memories of your ancestors' foods appeals, you might also want to check out:

• Grandma's Project ("Sharing the World's Most Delicious Heritage"), in which filmmakers from around the globe cook with their grandmothers—and elicit evocative stories of the past along the way
  
  

• Dinner: A Love Story, a so-much-more-than-a-blog compendium of recipes, kids' lunch ideas, and more from book author Jenny Rosenstrach; she occasionally hones in on the power of food as love, too, such as in these three lovely posts: Sense Memories (her husband's recollections of the birth of their first child and chicken salad, not necessarily in that order); The Napkin Note (about her mom and lunchbox missives); and Absolute Value (about her dad, Oyster Bar, and chocolate marzipan bars)

• The Dinner Party, a glorious, long-time-coming community of mostly 20- and 30-somethings who've each experienced significant loss, who get together over potluck dinners to talk about the ways in which it continues to affect their lives and how to thrive in #LifeAfterLoss—an inspiring, real-life example of the power of a shared meal to heal and create community, even (maybe especially) after the death of a loved one.

Choose your own adventure—then tell it.

(7 Reasons You CAN’T Tell Your Story, & 7 Better Reasons You CAN)

When I was a kid I read the choose-your-own-adventure series of books, liking, as most preteens did, the ability to hold some sway over how the storyline unfolded. I would read one book multiple times, attempting to make every choice combination possible. It was easy to become part of the story.

As I grew up and immersed myself in literary worlds well beyond Sweet Valley High, I would lose myself in stories of characters both like and unlike me.

Only as an adult did it fully dawn on me that I was, in fact, living my own story.

When you read memoirs—or even binge-watch reality TV—the stories you are witness to often seem larger than life. How can my little life compare?, you might think. I have nothing remarkable to say.

Oh, but you do.

Every choice you make, each person you encounter, adds to the texture and direction of your life. You are creating your own narrative.

You’ve got reasons why you AREN’T telling your story. I’ve got reasons why you SHOULD.

What’s your reason for not telling your story?

1 - I don’t keep a diary, so I won’t be able to remember details.

Time passes. Our memory is faulty. Even with a journal or diary, you would never be able to reliably relate all details of a time or scene from your past. While having a journal to reference could be a tremendous help, it is by no means a prerequisite for remembering, and telling, your own stories.

All memoir writers—and anyone who just reminisces over a cup of tea—challenges the limits of memory. Your sister might remember details differently from a shared memory—That dress was blue! It was winter!—and who can say which of you is right? While you might get a detail wrong, you are striving, in good faith, to recreate the essence of your memories, to transport those who are receiving your stories to your emotional state of mind, to feel your experiences.

“The present is all that’s genuinely available to anyone, and the present is fleeting, always turning instantly to the past. Even facts distort: What’s remembered, recorded, is never the event itself, no matter how precise the measurement—a baseball score is not the game…. At best, what we can do is listen to memory and watch memory…and translate [it] for those we want to reach.” —Bill Roorbach, Writing Life Stories

I’m not advocating getting details wrong—but by no means does one need a day-by-day accounting of their youth to begin to tell their early stories!

2 - My story is nothing special.

Oh, contraire. Stop comparing yourself to those aforementioned reality-TV show subjects. Have you loved? Made difficult choices? Gone on adventures that made you smile, laugh, feel invincible? Accomplished things that would make your parents (or your children) proud? Are there stories you used to retell around the dinner table, or the campfire? Are there questions your grandchildren have asked that you’ve only skimmed the surface of answering?

Even if the answer to every one of these questions is, “No!”—even then, I am confident there are questions to which you will answer with a resounding, “Yes!” You are living your story, and YOUR story matters.

Want a little (fun to read) proof? Check out what happened when a fellow personal historian spoke to a group of 10-year-olds about some pretty ordinary people. Then check out this video, and bear witness to some amazingly average people telling small stories that feel remarkable. Get ready to be moved.

3 - I don’t have very many photographs.

You’ve got a few, don’t you? And I would venture to guess that if you’ve saved those few, there’s a reason. Tell the stories of those pictures. Sit down with a friend, hit RECORD on your smartphone’s audio feature, and have a conversation about what you recall. Describe the sensory details—the coarse fabric of the formal jacket you wore, the fishy smell blowing in from the shore, the metallic taste of spearmint from the gum tucked behind your tongue. You may not know the exact date the photograph was taken, but I’m willing to bet you know more substantive stuff about the “when”: after you had graduated; before your father died.

So you've got just one treasured photo—start there! What memories does it spark?

Maybe you have absolutely no photographs. There are other options worth exploring: illustrating your book in a style that complements your narrative; using archival photographs to illustrate what the time was like; staging professional photo shoots to include family heirlooms, yourself and your current family members, or even the places that have mattered in your life.

4 - I’m too old to start now—how could I possibly cover 70 years?

It’s only too late if you never begin. 

“You don’t have to cover all 70 years at once,” says Linda Coffin, founder of History Crafters. “Start small. Don't box yourself into ‘I was born... And then... And then…’ Tell just your favorite stories, or tell the stories that no one is left to tell but you. ANY stories that you tell will be important to those you leave behind, even if they aren't ALL your stories.”

Your stories are a testament to who you are, and “something is better than nothing,” says Lyn Jackson, founder of Every Story Media. “Your loved ones will cherish what you choose to relate.”

5 - I’m too young to start now—my story is just beginning!

Ah, how fortunate you are. Consider how fresh and visceral your favorite coming-of-age tales are: Stephen King’s Stand By Me (short story and movie), Judy Blume’s Are You There God, It’s Me, Margaret? (adolescent fiction), Lena Dunham’s Not That Kind of Girl (modern essays written by a feminist actress who has tapped into the zeitgeist like no other recently).

You are in the midst of your story, and dare I say it may be one of the most exciting parts! Life milestones are opportune times to craft a book, as they are often emblematic of turning the page on a new chapter in your life. Consider telling your first chapter. 

Are you embarking on your college education? Engaged to be married? In the midst of changing careers? Bat/bar mitzvahs are also popular times to memorialize in words and pictures. Remember, your story can be primarily photo-driven, too—quotes and short first-person reflections add color and context in a lovely way and help bind a picture story together, helping you capture a formative time in your life, both for yourself and your ancestors.

6 - I don’t have any children of my own, so who cares?

If you are fortunate, you have friends and other loved ones to whom your story matters. You may not be leaving a genealogical legacy to your children, but there are many other types of stories that hold meaning, and that are begging to be told. 

Your story may be part of a broader narrative that history has a responsibility to capture: veteran accounts, the early LGBT experience, the Civil Rights movement (or ongoing race relations in our nation), even seemingly “small” historic moments in your local community. What has mattered to you, and how have you participated in the world at large?

“Every life—every, single life—matters equally, and infinitely.” —Dave Isay

Even if you have no interest in publishing a book to hold your memories, there is value in the writing itself—and equally in the sharing of stories for strangers to hear (StoryCorps comes immediately to mind!). 

All of this to say: We care. People care.

7 - I am not a writer.

That’s what we are here for.

Often the most intimate and revealing stories result from one-on-one conversation. You talk, and we listen. What we do from that point is, well, just a little bit of magic.

Let's talk, and see what we can do together.

Related reading:

20 Reasons Why You Should Write Your Family History

Association of Personal Historians Experts Weigh In: More Reasons to Tell Your Family History

When a bad photograph is the perfect picture

Throwing away photos that hold no meaning (or are duplicates, or are just plain bad) is a requisite for organizing your visual memories; you’ll never find anything if it’s unlabeled and sitting at the bottom of an overwhelming pile, after all. (Photo hoarders, you are not alone: Get help here!)

Think before you toss, though. There are, in fact, some instances when you should keep that seemingly bad photo.

Oldies are goodies.

If it’s wearing its old age like a badge (frayed edges, torn corners, faded color, and other rips and blemishes) but is otherwise a keeper, keep it. Consider having the image restored by a professional retoucher. With high-resolution photo scanners and digital retouching, professionals can recreate missing parts of an image, remove stains and discoloration, and generally work magic on your old treasures. After all, those vintage shots of your grandparents are the only ones you’ve got. Even if you opt not to restore your old photos now, scan them at a high resolution (600 dpi is sufficient for most people’s use) to preserve them digitally, and take pleasure in the characteristics of age (we often include those charming scalloped photo edges or a small corner tear when we reproduce images in our legacy books).

Blurred but essential?

My baby shower was a whirlwind of hors d’oeuvres, cellophane-wrapped gifts, hugs, and laughter. I was in a constant state of motion, a little pink in the cheeks from the attention (um, the pregnancy, too), and oblivious to the idea of capturing the occasion in pictures. My camera was passed around, though, and I posed for a shot here and there.

When I downloaded the images later, all but a few of the pictures were blurred beyond recognition. Honestly, though, I don’t mind not having an album’s worth of pictures commemorating this occasion; it lives in my memory. And, this one shot of me and my mother—streaked with blur—captures the energy and the emotion of the day: certainly not “perfectly” from a technical standpoint, but undoubtedly beautifully from an emotional one. She, near giddy with excitement at the prospect of her “baby having a baby,” and I, whisked around like a socialite, appear as we should in this shot, a surprising keeper: happy, in motion, dazzled.

If you’ve got blurry shots from a special occasion or milestone, it’s likely at least one of them is worth holding on to. The inadvertent blur might help convey sadness or the passing of time, perhaps. Or maybe the blur does nothing artistically except distract—yet the photograph is the only one that reveals the setting of a day for which you want to remember every detail; photos, especially physical ones we can hold in our hands and touch, help us remember to remember.

Photos help us remember to remember.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder.

We’ve gotten used to tightly cropped images. Favorite game-day shots are those that zoom in on an athlete’s great play. Our Instagram feeds are flooded with close-ups of herb-garnished lunch plates and quirky, oh-so-close selfies. But what of those old snapshots where the background dominates? Where your childhood self is a speck on the landscape?

These family photos from a stay in Italy aren't great technically, but the places they evoke and the memories they call forth are priceless. Isn't it wonderful to see siblings' relative sizes to one another, to sense the kids' moods from their posture, to feel transported to the Italian countryside?

Newer drone photography, as adopted by some trendy wedding photographers, shows the appeal of pulling back to a wide-angle shot in the extreme, taking advantage of a grand perspective to show off beautiful scenery. You might not recognize the couple in that stunning scenic setting, but you know it’s you or your loved ones—and oh how that makes all the difference!

I admit, this one is a spectacular photograph—it would never be in contention for getting tossed! It's a wonderful example, though, of how a dramatic perspective can be a true gift, even when the subjects in the picture are not recognizable from that distance. Photo by Lilly Red Photography

So don’t fret that the characters in a photo are too small to clearly identify, especially when you know who they are. Relish the fact that you get a glimpse into the environment (especially when it’s representative of a time gone by or a place no longer visited). Label these photos, whether on the back with a photo-safe pen, in the metadata of a digital file, or alongside the image in a book—you want to ensure that your children and theirs will be able to appreciate not just the gift of the photo, but the knowledge of who is in it.

What pictures have you saved that don’t necessarily qualify as “the best photograph”?

Share with us on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, or in the comments below!

Why genealogy is not the answer to finding yourself

Genealogy is history on a personal scale. It helps satisfy a deep need to understand how we fit into the broader world around us. Nonetheless, knowledge of our ancestors does not define us.

It has been written about plenty: Genealogy is the second-most popular hobby in the United States, just behind gardening. Genealogy sites are second only to porn on the Internet.

Genealogy and the search for family history can be a big part of what we do here at Modern Heirloom Books, especially when a family wants to tell the stories that have passed through generations of descendants and preserve them for the children.

And I am not immune to the quest: Having almost no knowledge of my family beyond my grandparents (“We’re American,” my grandmother would tell me when I asked about where we came from), I can sit for hours scanning census records and clicking on those enticing “hint” leaves on Ancestry. I watch Finding Your Roots and Genealogy Roadshow, too.

Genealogy is fun, and it has great value. However, having a knowledge of your ancestry does not define you as a person.

You are making your own path.

Over Father’s Day weekend I saw an article, “Searching for Our Roots,” and was troubled when I read this quote from a man who has no ties to his blood relatives:

“When asked if he felt ‘incomplete,’ Giddins replied, ‘Definitely. I knew nothing about me. Can you imagine growing up knowing nothing about your health, your family? You’re nothing.’ “

I have read similar sentiments before from individuals who are not connected to their roots, including from adoptees as well as from folks whose parents simply did not talk about the past. “How can I know who I am when I don’t know where I came from?” the thinking goes.

While knowing your family’s past can be empowering, even liberating, it should not be a prerequisite for knowing oneself. Especially in our digitally dominated lives, self-reflection is becoming more and more rare. Perhaps we should look inward more often. Journaling, writing letters, having tech-free conversations with friends, are all powerful ways to connect both with loved ones and with our inner self. You, whether you are aware of your ancestry or not, have important stories to tell.

If there is a lesson in genealogical research, it is how interconnected we are to one another. (A personal aside: If only this message were so widely accepted that intolerance were a thing of the past, but headlines deem otherwise.) This is a profound lesson, but isn’t it one we can get as well from stories of individuals whose names do not appear on our own family tree? (Listen to The Moth podcast for proof.)

Don’t collect ancestors. Collect stories.

It’s the people you want to know, not just their names. Their struggles, their triumphs, their foibles and follies. You can’t get those stories from a branch on a family tree (though you will almost certainly get clues that lead you to those stories if you are persistent!).

Look to loved ones in your present, not just your past, to define who you are and what is important to you. After all, you are living your life, making memories, and creating stories to share with your own children one day!

So sure, click on the green “hint” leaves, gather names and census records, even take a DNA test if you’re so inclined (I did). Just don’t pin your own identity on what you find—and don’t lose sight of the people behind the names. The journeys of those people have led to you. And your journey is continuing, right now.

Oh yeah: And tell your stories as you go. Talk of them around the dinner table, record them, preserve them. As the research indicates, it’s the sharing of family stories that helps kids be resilient and contributes to a healthy sense of identity. You may be depriving your future generations of a grand genealogy adventure by giving them their lineage instead of a mystery to be solved...but that’s a good thing, right?

#Legacy Links: June 10 - Photographs, Memory, and Life Lessons

Our top 4 #legacy links for the week ending Friday, June 10, 2016

1 - Families photographed with images of their descendants make a powerful connection to past.

A photography exhibit, on view until tomorrow at El Tejar del Mellizo community center in Seville, Spain, presents photographs of the living descendants of those who lost their lives during the Spanish Civil War. Organized by the Our Memory Association, “DNA of Memory—Graves from the Franco Regime” features photographs by more than 30 Spanish artists. The images capture descendants carrying photographs of relatives killed at the beginning of the Civil War, and they are more provocative and moving than I could have imagined. If you don't happen to be in Seville tomorrow (!!), I urge you to click on the photo below to view the various photographs on HuffPo.

In a photo from the "DNA of Memory" exhibit, Narvaez Hernandez holds up photos of his parents, Enrique Narvaez Borrego and Concepcion Hernandez Garcia, who both died in Marchena, Seville, when Hernandez was 3 years old. Photo by Javier Diaz, courtesy Our Memory Association 

2 - How a personal quest to find family resemblances turned into something more.

This one's not new, but somehow I missed it when it made the viral rounds last year. See what fellow personal historian Rachael Rifkin discovers when she undertakes a unique experiment to recreate eight photos of her relatives. Her musings on the nature of descendancy are as enticing as her photo recreations.

According to a family tree, Rifkin's cousin Ibolia, left, died at Auschwitz in 1944. Rifkin estimates this picture is from sometime in the 1930s. Image courtesy Life Stories Today

3 - One decade, one family, one photographer: This is a photo book I am looking forward to.

A 13-year photo project that started in Chinatown documents life, history of Chinese family in NY. @nytimes https://t.co/IhkZqU1bm8

— FamilySearch (@FamilySearch) June 5, 2016

Thanks, Family Search, for bringing this one to our attention. Photographer Thomas Holton's book The Lams of Ludlow Street \, which chronicles one family through 13 years' worth of photographs, will be published next month.

"As Mr. Holton got to know the family, the project became more personal. He would pick up the children from school. He visited the Lams’ relatives in Hong Kong and China. When he married, Cindy was his flower girl,"

writes Annie Correal in the New York Times article. Make sure to click through the accompanying slideshow!

4 - What happens when a suitcase of photos sends her on the storytelling adventure of a lifetime.

In the vein of "Finding Vivian Maier," a North Carolina woman hit the found photos jackpot when she discovered a suitcase full of one man's life effects, including photos, letters, and other ephemera—and then began a journey of discovery as she sought to uncover the stories his things revealed. Her site is wonder to behold.

Read an introduction to her photographic treasure hunt on the ever-interesting Save Family Photos:

"Handling these seemingly random artifacts serves as a constant reminder that the sometimes cryptic, occasionally awkward, and often amusing snippets of the past were once as alive and vital to their creators as my own emails, journals and vacation photos are to me."

Join me at a new, vibrant storytelling festival this weekend in Madison, NJ

I am so thrilled to be participating in this new event spearheaded by local business folks and artists who deeply understand the value of storytelling!

About the Madison Storytellers Festival

Madison Storytellers Festival will be held on Saturday, June 11th, in downtown Madison, NJ. Modern Heirloom Books will have a space showcasing some of our books, framed life vignettes, and special offers.

The event will be staged at Madison’s ‘Culture Corner,’ with a main stage under the railroad trestle on Green Village Road (closed off between Main Street and Kings Road from 10am – 4pm) and additional stages at the Museum of Early Trades and Crafts, Short Stories Bookshop and Arts Hub, and Drip Coffee. Free and open to the public, the event will be held Saturday, June 11, 10 – 4pm, followed by evening music at Short Stories Bookshop and Arts Hub at 23 Main Street, from 4-6 PM.

Fully planned and staffed by volunteers, stages will feature:

• opening remarks by Madison Mayor Honorable Robert H. Conley, who will share highlights of his own oral history of growing up in Madison

• contributors to Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat Pray Love Made Me Do It

• New York Times bestselling novelist Miranda Beverly-Whittemore, on the heels of the May 31st release of her new novel JUNE

• special interviews led by Bonnie Monte of the Shakespeare Theatre of New Jersey and John Pietrowski of Writer’s Theatre of New Jersey

...and so much more.

The Museum of Early Trades and Crafts lawn and Green Village Road itself will feature special crafts and interactive arts events as well as vendor tables available for literary and arts organizations and businesses, including Modern Heirloom Books. Arts activity stations and three ‘stages’ of interviews, music, poetry, literary readings, dance, oral history, visual arts—from celebrity to professional to amateur to interactive/education workshops—will showcase diversity of offerings and experiences.

The Appeal of Madison, an Arts-Loving Community

If you’ve spent any amount of time in Madison, NJ, on the train line to New York City’s Penn Station, you know its unique distinction as an arts and culture destination. Named a top school district for music education and proud home of the critically acclaimed Shakespeare Theatre of New Jersey, the town has somehow preserved not only its stunning historic architecture, but also the vibrant offerings of an arts and crafts history museum, a top 50 jazz club, a rare and used bookshop, and three universities, while also yielding a new indie bookshop and arts hub, literary presses, a hat shop, a knitting shop, a comic book shop, and numerous arts and dance studios.

Yet the real treasure is in Madison’s community of talent—the students, families, educators, and people across interests and industries who share a passion for—or, in many cases, hold notable careers in—writing, publishing, film, television, photography, music—and are drawn to the town’s unique environment of creativity and expression. The festival plans to showcase that talent as well.

“Storytelling is the expression of who we are, who we were, and who we hope to be. It is both experience and identity, and is what brings us together as a culture,”

said Dan Blank, owner of WeGrowMedia and a founding member of the festival Steering Committee. Editor and publisher of Atticus Press Dan Cafaro added,

“It’s critical that each of us is empowered to tell our stories—to express our vision of who we are as individuals, and how we fit together as a whole.”

Special Discount on New Product Offering, "Little Life Story"

In the spirit of sharing our stories, we are launching a new product offering at the festival.

While we specialize in creating legacy and other heirloom books that showcase your stories, many people are not yet ready to dive into such a big project. Others may not think their stories are worth telling—or that they can present them in a way that’s appealing, memorable, evocative.

First: Your story is worth telling.

I repeat: You have a story that’s your alone, and your story is worth sharing.

Second: It's our job to help you best relate your story! We thought, why not create a product that allows individuals to get a taste for the process—and to see how easy (and fulfilling) it can be to create a lasting heirloom that records one of your stories beautifully? So, presenting a Madison Storytellers Festival Special:

“Little Life Story”

Got one hour? That’s all it takes (well, that and a little fond reminiscing!) to create a short life vignette tied to a favorite old photograph, family recipe, or other memento. Here’s how it works:

1. Choose a photo, recipe, memento, or other physical item that sparks a special memory for you.*

2. We work together to give voice and form to your story.

3. We scan and optimize your image.

4. You get a frame-worthy page to display!

Madison Storytellers Special: You pay $150 for the approximately one-hour session (where we discuss and refine your memories, identify and distill the story) and the resulting life vignette.

This would normally be part of a full book-making process, but we want to introduce you to the joys of finding—and sharing—your own stories! So, our gift to you includes a one-page design that incorporates your photograph and story, typeset and designed in a way that begs to be framed and displayed (we will have samples on hand the day of the festival). It will be printed on archival art paper or, if you prefer, on high-quality glossy photo paper.

You’ll also receive a bonus digital version for you to share with friends and family on social media or via email.

If you decide to try our “Little Life Story” package, you’ll get a taste of what our process is like—and who knows, it just may be the first step on your journey towards your very own book!

Come on out this Saturday to say hi, see some sample books, and see what Modern Heirloom Books is all about. We look forward to meeting you—and to hearing YOUR stories!

*Your privacy and your precious photos and memorabilia are respected and safeguarded at every step of the process.