It’s another day ,another clean slate as it were,or ,to use the same mineral metaphor,another chance to wipe the slate clean.When I was a child,my uncle would talk about this memories of schooling in the coy villages of Cornwall,and he would talk about his mother using a slate at school.Recently,while on a visit to Cornwall,I paid a visit to the slate quarry that I worked in during my school holidays as a teenager ,and it crossed my mind what prominence slate used to have in the lives of people back then.Now,in the 21 st century ,when alternatives are used ,when there isn’t a need for cold rooms with their slate shelf’s ,it all seems a bye gone age,but the phrase “wiping the slate clea” has survived .
Maybe,when more generations pass on,more and more of these life phrases will too,but I hope that they don’t ,and I hope they survive.Maybe,just maybe,when someòne dies,people might start to forget them,but I would like to think that we don’t,that we treasure their humanity ,their characters ,their inner ness,Yes,I really would like to think that.As the lessons that my uncle taught me still echo in my mind,I was so grateful that he talked to me ,that he wasn’t taciturn,that he told me about what it was like to pass the grammar test ,only to be told that he couldn’t attend it because they were poor.
As we approach rememberance Sunday,let us never forget what people did for us,how they taught us how to live with few means ,but with big hearts.
Sometimes,stories keep us going ,like the bear in Michael bonds book,who needed a story every night to settle down.Let us continue to retell the stories of òur family members ,so that they live on in our memories.Oral stories are a wonderful way to excite and love children,and it’s not expensive. It is the price of our time though .