Maybe I Should Stop Hating On January

So many people dread January (me included). Long, cold nights; short days, snow, cold, inversion. It’s the “Christmas is over and we’re back to reality” kick in the butt. I do not like January.

As is customary in January, I started a little cleaning. You know, if the weather is yucky and you don’t want to be outside because you have to be all bundled up, you might as well be productive indoors. And did I mention the inversion? Because it’s terrible. So instead, I’ve been cleaning those noxious closets and bookshelves and pantries that get neglected the rest of the year.

I was cleaning one of my bookshelves the other day and I discovered a treasure. I found an email that my grandpa sent me in January of 2002. This is what the email said.

“Since January is such an important month in our family, I thought I’d share these dates.

January 14, 1934…the grandparents first date.

January 28, 1940…the grandparents got engaged.

January 15, 1950…we left Switzerland.

January 21, 1950…arrived in the USA.

January 19, 1951…sealed in the Salt Lake Temple.

Grandpa”

I always knew January was an important month in my family, but I had forgotten how many important family dates occur this month. I also got to thinking about keeping family records and recording important information. The one that especially hit me was January 14, 1934…the grandparents first date. You never know when that first date will be the last first date. In the last 2 weeks, I’ve had two first dates (one of them I hope and pray never occurs again). Now, keep in mind, nothing really memorable happened on these dates (except for the chopsticks in my purse), but I’m sure my grandparents’ first date wasn’t all that memorable either. I mean, I don’t think either one of them had divine revelation that day or fell in love at first sight or anything like that.

I guess what I’m getting at here is remember the little things. Remember the details. And write them down. You never know when you’ll go on your last first date or who will treasure a little email 8 years later.

Maybe I’ll stop hating on January.