Fambly: CreatingHistory

This Fambly Story wonders where history happens. In the past or in the moment of transcription? Both? Neither?

Sebald Beham: The Departure of the Prodigal Son, plate one from The History of the Prodigal Son (Early Sixteenth Century)

"We are actively, if extremely subtly, becoming the very stuff of our transcriptions …"

It seems unlikely to me that I am at this moment CreatingHistory. I began creating this Fambly history under the mistaken impression that I would just be transcribing previously assembled information when it seems more likely that I have been CreatingHistory instead. I realize that this unfolding story had never been told before now. Oh, bits and pieces of it have certainly previously crossed lips, but never these particular configurations. The stories sure seem familiar, but they include fresh particulars. It seemed that every time I told a story, it became different. I can't quite claim to have been the source material, but I must admit I significantly changed it in assembling it, I included some speculation but tried to clearly identify when I was guessing. I wasn't really creating my history, but my Fambly's. Still, I must admit to having been the author.

Where does history originate? If it seems unlikely that I am at this moment CreatingHistory, it might be because history always emerges from the unlikely. Unlikely seems a necessary, if not wholly sufficient, condition if history's going to happen. Not all noteworthy experiences become history, and not all mundane ones avoid qualifying for inclusion. I want the history I write to include atmospheric sidelights, otherwise unremarkable asides that animate whatever else gets inside. I do not want the facts to get in the way of the story or the story to necessarily smother facts. I ache to understand my forebears’ manners of living. I want to know what they put on their breakfast table. I need to understand what worried them.

I feel as if I might be CreatingHistory as I sit here this morning. This past weekend, our GrandOtter, The Muse's twenty-six-year-old granddaughter, came visiting from West of the mountains, fiancee in tow and four months pregnant. I sat in the shadow of this revelation, realizing I was watching my first great-grandchild arriving. Since much of the history I've been Creating when writing these Fambly stories has been doled out in terms of great-grands, I caught the implication that I would soon be entering that realm myself. I will soon become the currency with which all history has always been transacted. I'm entering the ranks where past tenses live and futures are free to interpret, where somebody else will be CreatingHistory for a change. I will eventually become history and, therefore, incapable of Creating it anymore. I sense a future inexorably attracting me, pulling me in. I can almost see myself becoming the sum of my stories.

I needed a break today from Creating more History. I have a passel of stories remaining to tell, many of which I have never even told myself. I carry no more than a rough outline of where this effort will insist upon taking me. I cannot see any end. It might be that CreatingHistory is mostly about new beginnings, fresh renderings of traditional tales, and different perspectives on the same old subjects. Any act of transcribing amounts to an act of creation, too, for the result gets filtered through the same machinery through which any fictional fantasy must also pass. The difference amounts to little. Indeed, any odd old reader might never recognize any difference between some story made up on the fly and authentic. We are actively, if extremely subtly, becoming the very stuff of our transcriptions, evolving into Great-Grands.

©2024 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved