Passing It On

Dear kids, your dad wishes you a happy future

Dear Aaron, Meghan and Bret,

Today, instead of teaching others how to write a legacy letter, I’m writing one of my own. On this day before Earth Day 2008, I want to share with you some of my wishes for your futures.

For me, Earth Day is a time of reflection, a chance to look back at what we’ve learned about our fragile ecosystem since the first Earth Day in 1970 and how we’ve done in the years since in making our planet more hospitable for all of its creatures. Since our very existence is intimately intertwined with our stewardship of Earth, I’m hoping that your generation and those that follow will manage our planet’s resources better than mine has.

Frankly, I don’t remember much about that first Earth Day on April 22, 1970. Your mother and I had been married less than three weeks, I was reporting to my first regular duty station in the Air Force and we were struggling to figure out how we could manage to live in Northern California on a second lieutenant’s salary. Although we were relocating to a hotbed of environmental activism, our contribution at the time was pretty much limited to not buying colored toilet paper.

As a family, we’ve grown to be more responsible over the past 38 years. But even with our relatively modest lifestyle, we would need more than one Earth if everyone lived as we do. And, as more people worldwide attempt to do just that, the strain is showing.

It is cruelly ironic that U.S. oil production peaked in the same year that Earth Day was born. Up to that point, the United States was the world’s leading oil producer and exporter. In 1970, 93 percent of the world’s energy came from fossil fuels. Although that percentage has dropped to 85 percent today (due mostly to increased use of nuclear power), the world consumes nearly twice as much fossil fuel-based energy than it did in 1970.

Given that fossil fuels are a finite resource in increasing demand and that their carbon dioxide emissions are responsible for many of the world’s environmental problems, it is clear that there is trouble ahead. Considering, too, that the modern global economy was built on cheap oil, international manufacturers that raced to the bottom line in the “boom years,” may find themselves foundering as a new world economy emerges. Despite the obvious, there are some who still view the cost of fuel as the problem rather than a symptom of a far greater problem.

The 20 million Americans who took to the streets in 1970 got the attention of federal politicians who went on to pass the Clean Air Act and form the Environmental Protection Agency. But government action has been slow and erratic, falling well behind the relentless pace of change of natural forces.

I’m proud with how each of you has positioned yourself for the challenges that lie ahead. You’re all sensible, responsible, productive members of your communities. I believe that no matter what awaits you, you’ll come up with creative, thoughtful solutions.

I regret that my generation hasn’t done a better job of managing the precious resources of our planet. Certainly our parents did their part, surviving the Great Depression and turning back the tyrants that threatened global stability in World War II. The world our parents turned over to us was one full of promise and hope. And, although we lived many years with the fear of world nuclear annihilation just the push of a button away, those same years were prosperous ones.

Our parents simply wanted us to have what they didn’t have. We took it and wanted more. And more, and more. As probably the most pampered generation in history, I think we unwittingly created a culture of entitlement where a man’s worth is measured more by what he owns than by his personal code of conduct.

When songstress Joni Mitchell wrote that “we are stardust,” her lyrical expression was an accurate reflection of scientific fact. Everything around us is derived from materials that were on this planet millions of years before humans. The genius of man is that he has been able to take the raw materials provided by nature and transform them into the buildings, roads and iPods that we use today. Even the cheap oil that has sustained us for the last 100 years or so is the result of decaying organic matter.

So here is what I hope for you, my children, and your descendants:

• Clean air to keep your lungs clear and your spirits buoyant.
• Fresh water to drink, bathe and play in.
• Nutritious and readily available food to sustain you.
• A reasonably healthy life, uncluttered by the ravages of disease, toxins and warfare.
• A life partner with which to share the joys and sorrows that will inevitably come your way.
• Comfortable shelter to protect you from the elements, to give you safety and refuge in times of stress, and a place where you may rest your body or enjoy the companionship of others.
• Friends that will support you in times of need and give you a swift kick in the rear when needed.
• Close and cordial relationships with your immediate family members, whose aggregate knowledge reflects the wisdom of generations past.
• The confidence that your own life experience has positioned you to make appropriate decisions concerning your own family’s welfare.
• Proper standing in your own community commensurate with your skills, knowledge and personal beliefs.
• A strong spiritual faith that connects you to your natural environment and keeps you centered on those things in your life that truly matter to you.
• That you develop and practice the virtues of compassion, truthfulness and generosity.
• That you find contentment in all you do, that you find it within yourself to accomplish your dreams and that you concentrate on matters within your control and accept what you cannot.
• That you live a full life, true to your own beliefs without doing harm to others.

With love always,

Dad

Photo: Meghan, Aaron and Bret Lehmer by lwlehmer.

Author Larry Lehmer's book about Dick Clark and American Bandstand --  Bandstandland: How Dancing Teenagers Took Over America and Dick Clark Took Over Rock & Roll --is available from Sunbury Press. His book about the last tour of Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens -- The Day the Music Died: The Last Tour of Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens -- is available at Amazon.

The voices that shaped our lives deserve saving

Oral history is hot.

People everywhere are getting the message about recording their family stories. Whether on audiotape, videotape or digital media, there's nothing that compares with hearing a family story told by a family member.

Although my primary business as a personal historian was putting together a written record of a family history, oral history was an integral part of the process. Much of a written record is based on recorded interviews which become part of the overall project.

I occasionally teamed up with a videographer to offer a comprehensive personal history package. Our collaboration made possible the best of both disciplines.

The written record provides an in-depth narrative record of the family's history that, besides providing interesting reading material, serves as a primary reference book. The accompanying 20- to 30-minute professional video captures the highlights of the written work visually, told by many of the book's "main characters."

National Public Radio carries excerpts from its StoryCorps project every Friday on its Morning Edition program. The StoryCorps project features two mobile recording studios that travel the country, recording the stories of everyday America. The stories are testaments to the power of the spoken word. Some are available at the StoryCorps web site.

But StoryCorps is not the only oral history project around. There are many. Check them out. Perhaps you'll find an interview with a long-lost relative. At the very least, you'll come away with some ideas on how to incorporate oral history into your own family history project.

Flickr photo of StoryCorps studio courtesy of  Laura, KCUR.

Author Larry Lehmer's book about Dick Clark and American Bandstand --  Bandstandland: How Dancing Teenagers Took Over America and Dick Clark Took Over Rock & Roll --is available from Sunbury Press. His book about the last tour of Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens -- The Day the Music Died: The Last Tour of Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens -- is available at Amazon.

When's the best time to share your stories?

Filling out a family tree or researching a family's history takes time. For some, it can be a very long time. Projects often morph into something quite different from the original intention.

Most of us have some idea of where we're headed when we enter into a project, if only vaguely. But how do you know when a project's done? When do you share what you've learned?

There are some among us who are eager to share what we find as soon as we find it. This team-building approach encourages collaboration, often inspiring others to prod their own memories and resources to become active participants in your project.

Others choose to wait until they've reached a certain stage in their process, sharing only when their documentation is complete and their research results extend into their personal comfort zones. This can take years.

I'm reminded of a cartoon a few years back showing a tired and perplexed man sitting in front of a computer screen bearing a message to the effect of "You've reached the end of the Internet."

Can you imagine reaching that point in your own family history work?

Flickr photo courtesy of Buck Fever.

Author Larry Lehmer's book about Dick Clark and American Bandstand --  Bandstandland: How Dancing Teenagers Took Over America and Dick Clark Took Over Rock & Roll --is available from Sunbury Press. His book about the last tour of Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens -- The Day the Music Died: The Last Tour of Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens -- is available at Amazon.

Where did you keep your Shinola?

It started as a simple question from my brother David.

"Do you remember where we kept the shoe polish?"

He sent this picture, which was supposed to be a clue. Sadly, I didn't have a clue. I recognized the bag in the picture, but only vaguely.

Owning up to my ignorance, he answered his own question with an e-mail response.

"This is the bag that Dad kept the shoe polish and all the brushes, daubers, and buffing cloths in.  It was in the bottom kitchen drawer left of the sink.  (you'd have been more familiar with it if only you'd have polished your shoes more often) <grin>."

Now, I remember. I also remember where we kept the bread (also in a drawer near the sink), cereal and applesauce (that's a story only the family can appreciate!).

If it hadn't been for my brother's prompting (and visual clue), this part of my history might have been lost. I doubt that my kids care to know how often I shined my shoes, but they may find it interesting that my resourceful parents saw no need to plunk down their hard-earned dollars for a fancy shoeshine kit that's going to be stuffed in a drawer out of sight most of the time.

Often, it's the stories of others that trigger long-forgotten memories of your own life's journey. The best thing you can do is pay attention.

Author Larry Lehmer's book about Dick Clark and American Bandstand --  Bandstandland: How Dancing Teenagers Took Over America and Dick Clark Took Over Rock & Roll --is available from Sunbury Press. His book about the last tour of Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens -- The Day the Music Died: The Last Tour of Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens -- is available at Amazon.

Snaring those flitting, random gifts of family history

You never know when or where your personal history will bubble up. Does this post by Scott at Haberblab sound familiar?:

"At odd times all sorts of personal history comes swimming to the surface. Making me think 'Oh yes, I forgot all about that."'only to have the memory float down again."

That sort of thing happens to me all the time. Something will pop into my head and when I try to remember it later, I can't.

Recognizing the situation, I try to carry with me a 3x5 writing pad and pen so that I can document these things as they occur rather than relying on a balky memory. Of course, I often forget the pad and pen.

Still, it makes sense to find a way to snare those random gifts of family history before they flit away. It also works for shopping lists, appointments and any of those other pesky details that test our memories.

What's your system?

Flickr photo courtesy of TizzyandMona.

Author Larry Lehmer's book about Dick Clark and American Bandstand --  Bandstandland: How Dancing Teenagers Took Over America and Dick Clark Took Over Rock & Roll --is available from Sunbury Press. His book about the last tour of Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens -- The Day the Music Died: The Last Tour of Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens -- is available at Amazon.

Time to preserve those windows into your family history

Dick Clark was fond of referring to music as "the soundtrack of your life." I like to think of family photos as windows into your life.

The visual memories of our past are among the strongest memory triggers around. Thumbing through a family photo album is an evocative trip into our personal past. Each photo stirs memories of people, place and occasions from our life's journey.

But photos, especially those from our distant past, often reveal their age in unflattering ways. They crack. They fade. We assault them with glue, tape and who-knows-what chemicals from materials that once promised to preserve and protect. What to do?

You may not be able to stop the natural aging process, but it's possible to make some amends by transferring your photos to a new medium by using readily available technology. By scanning a photo (or a document) into a digital format and cleaning it up with software, you can come up with an enhanced version of your original.

Plus, it's a lot easier to share an electronic image with friends and family.

The example used with this column shows what can be done in 10 minutes by using Photoshop, a popular photo-editing software.

For more tips on preserving your family photo history, go here.

Flickr photo courtesy of  Jean&Vic.

Author Larry Lehmer's book about Dick Clark and American Bandstand --  Bandstandland: How Dancing Teenagers Took Over America and Dick Clark Took Over Rock & Roll --is available from Sunbury Press. His book about the last tour of Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens -- The Day the Music Died: The Last Tour of Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens -- is available at Amazon.

Saying goodbye to the brick and mortar of our past

The room was smaller than I remembered. The steps leading up to it were steeper, the light was dimmer and the slope of the ceiling in the attic made it more difficult to stand and maneuver. But this was my old bedroom and I was there to say goodbye.

For the better part of the 1960s, the room had been my “apartment at home,” through half of my high school years and college. After breaking loose from the tiny room I had shared with my two brothers, I eagerly assumed the role of teenage male interior decorator, dragging in a table, desk and television immediately and following with a steady stream of hi-fis, each something of an improvement over its predecessor.

I transformed the cozy space into what passed for a communication/entertainment center in those days with an extension telephone (at $1 a month), shortwave radio, comfy easy chair and covered the walls with posters of James Dean, W.C. Fields, Mae West or whoever was in vogue at the time. My tee-totalling, non-smoking parents uncharacteristically allowed me to smoke and drink (once I reached legal age) in my room, privileges I would not extend to my own children many years later.

Many of my memories from that era are tied to that bedroom. But my parents moved this week, out of the house they built themselves 60 years ago. I had the rare opportunity to spend one last night in my old room. This time, though the room was mostly empty, occupied by just a few boxes – some with memories to save, others targeted for an upcoming yard sale and the rest headed for recycling or disposal.

It wasn’t particularly comfortable, trying to sleep on a camping mattress, but it was an opportunity too rich to ignore. Besides the flood of memories that bind families even tighter in times of moves like this, it’s also a chance to say goodbye to another big part of our family histories – our former homes. If you have that opportunity, I highly recommend taking it.

Author Larry Lehmer's book about Dick Clark and American Bandstand --  Bandstandland: How Dancing Teenagers Took Over America and Dick Clark Took Over Rock & Roll --is available from Sunbury Press. His book about the last tour of Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens -- The Day the Music Died -- is available at Amazon.

Photo: Corner of Larry Lehmer's bedroom in 1965 (courtesy: Larry Lehmer)

Let the confetti fly: It’s Family History Month!

Today is the first day of Family History Month. That’s a big deal to personal historians and to a growing number of Americans. During a recent series on the family histories of its anchors, NBC’s Today Show recently proclaimed researching family history as the No. 1 hobby in America.

Family History Month began in 2001 when 84 U.S. Senators co-sponsored a resolution that sailed through the chamber, recognizing that 60 percent of Americans are interested in their own family’s history.

The value of saving family stories for future generations is sadly often realized only after a loved one has died and those stories are lost forever. But  even in families where stories are meticulously documented and preserved, new and unexpected material is often uncovered. Just this week, for example, I learned that my grandmother’s marriage to my grandfather wasn’t her first marital journey.

To mark Family History Month, a group of personal historians here in central Iowa has joined forces to present a free Open House from 2 to 4 p.m. on Sunday, Oct. 19, at the Urbandale Public Library. More information will be forthcoming in a few days in my newsletter. Send me an e-mail if you want to subscribe to the newsletter.

Meanwhile, Kimberly Powell lists 10 ways you can celebrate Family History Month here.

Author Larry Lehmer's book about Dick Clark and American Bandstand --  Bandstandland: How Dancing Teenagers Took Over America and Dick Clark Took Over Rock & Roll --is available from Sunbury Press. His book about the last tour of Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens -- The Day the Music Died -- is available at Amazon.

Photo: Calvin and Lillie Lehmer with their sons, Warren and Harry courtesy of Larry Lehmer.

Life lessons learned while working on the railroad

I learned a lot from the variety of railroad jobs I held while attending college, namely:

1. I wasn’t cut out for a career involving manual labor outdoors.
2. There’s a lot of wisdom to be absorbed while working with blue-collar mentors.
3. You cover a six-team parlay with one sure thing.
4. It’s a lot more fun to ride a train than work on one.
5. We lost a lot when the passenger trains died.

The Union Pacific Railroad has been very good to me, and my family. My paternal grandfather, a great uncle, my father and several uncles made livings working for the railroad, most of them for the U.P. Both of my brothers worked there and my railroad jobs pretty much paid my way through college.

I took my first job as a mail handler at Union Station in Omaha right after my high school graduation. As an on-call member of a group of students dubbed “the school board,” that meant mostly overnight work on weekends when a regular called in sick (or otherwise impaired). The next summer, I took a more-steady gig at a massive rail mail center in Council Bluffs, tossing bags of bulk mail headed to all corners of the United States. I also managed a couple of weeks during the Christmas rush.

For the last three years of college, though, I returned to Union Station where I worked as a coach cleaner. We didn’t actually clean coaches as much as we provided passengers with water. Since most streamliners passed through Omaha in the dead of night, that was when we lugged heavy hoses to each coach, filling them with water to last until their next stop.

One summer, though, I was lucky enough to have several weeks duty of driving an ice wagon throughout the station, icing down drinking fountains and servicing dining cars. For another summer, I was “set up” as a carman’s helper, oiling wheel boxes and bleeding brake lines.

None of my railroad jobs exist today, at least not in the fashion they functioned at that time. The work could be brutal, working in all types of weather and occasionally getting trapped between trains with no escape until one of them left.

The weather alone was enough to make me determined to never do this kind of work for a living, although most of my co-workers did exactly that. The life lessons learned from these hard-working, mostly uneducated, men was a welcome complement to my formal college training.

I joined my first unions on the railroad, placed my first bets on college football games there, became adept at an obscure version of mumbledy-peg and learned the value of punching in and out on time.

Working as I did in a once-ornate train station, complete with one of the area’s fine dining establishments, I witnessed first-hand the decline of passenger rail service. The restaurant had slipped badly before I started working there and the trains disappeared, one by one. Besides eventually losing my full-time job, it was a sad thing to go through.

Amtrak still serves the area with limited passenger service, but it’s nothing like the heyday. Fortunately, Union Station is still around, but as a museum.

Next time, I’ll write about my four-year stint in the U.S. Air Force.

Author Larry Lehmer's book about Dick Clark and American Bandstand --  Bandstandland: How Dancing Teenagers Took Over America and Dick Clark Took Over Rock & Roll --is available from Sunbury Press. His book about the last tour of Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens -- The Day the Music Died -- is available at Amazon.

Flickr photo courtesy of  Rodzina.

Life lessons learned in a bowling establishment

I learned a lot from my second job, at Twin City Bowl in Council Bluffs, Iowa, namely:

1. Beer plays an important role in the fiscal vitality of a bowling center.
2. I have serious limitations in mechanical matters.
3. When a business is foundering, cash your paycheck ASAP.
4. Hard-working, otherwise sensible Americans often jump at an opportunity to gamble.
5. Nice guys don’t necessarily make the best businessmen.

My first experience in the world of steady paychecks came when I was just starting my junior year in high school when I was recruited to work at one of my town’s four bowling centers. Just a few years before, there was just one bowling alley in town and the sport was enjoying a huge growth spurt, cleaning up its image of being dark, smoky men-only retreats with sleek, modern centers catering to women and kids.

As something of a hotshot junior bowler, the proprietor at Twin City Bowl approached me about working there before I reached the mandatory age of 16. So, for a month or so, he paid me off the books while I learned the ins and outs of picking up empty plates and bottles, emptying ashtrays, sweeping floors and myriad other duties.

The hours weren’t so hot, working late nights several times a week, but the perks were great: bowling at a reduced (sometimes free) rate, free food when working, even a trip to the premiere of the professional Omaha Packers entry in the short-lived National Bowling League. I mostly loved it, at least for the first year.

I quickly learned that you don’t pick up a bottle of beer with a half-inch of suds left in it and that you didn’t allow any beer to be sold (or even be seen) during the Saturday night Baptist Mixed League. There were typically two of us teens working each night, one in the back to fix broken pin-setting machines and one to work the front where the people were. My brief stints in the back were disastrous as I had a tendency to replace broken belts incorrectly, sending pins flying in directions the Brunswick engineers never intended.

Our snack bar-dining area was a draw in itself since we employed a head cook who made pies from scratch and homemade pasta every weekday. The wait staff was bolstered each spring by the arrival of a wisp of a Southern Belle who accompanied her husband, an oddsmaker at the nearby Ak-Sar-Ben horse racing track, to spend a few months while the horses were in town, dishing up chocolate malts and cheeseburgers while dispensing her own brand of racing advice. It may be just my overactive, teenage imagination of the time, but it seemed like the flow of customers to the tiny snack bar was much greater when she was in town.

As good as business seemed to be to me, apparently things weren’t quite as rosy in the cash flow department. The front-back working situation was consolidated into one job more nights than I liked, forcing some of us into work we were unsuited for or uninterested in. Paydays became unreliable and reached a point where we had to cash checks on the spot rather than risk nonpayment at a bank teller’s window.

The easy-going, mild-mannered proprietor who had recruited me turned sour and surly and the pie-baking, pasta-making cook jumped to a rival bowling center. By the time I reached the home stretch of my senior year, I’d had enough, too. It would be more than a year before I worked steadily again but I spent that year occasionally filling in on my first railroad job, as a mail handler.

Next time, I’ll fill you in on the railroad jobs that carried me through my college years.

Author Larry Lehmer's book about Dick Clark and American Bandstand --  Bandstandland: How Dancing Teenagers Took Over America and Dick Clark Took Over Rock & Roll --is available from Sunbury Press. His book about the last tour of Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens -- The Day the Music Died -- is available at Amazon.

Photo of Twin City Bowl by lwlehmer.