What is happening now will be talked about, and written about, for years!

The news of the day is on every screen, all the time. The names, the faces, the quotations, the endless analyses — the spins. It is really hard to tell what the facts are, and harder to tell what they mean.

I remember some historic events from my childhood.

I often hung out under the quilting frame when my Grandmother and her friends stitched, and visited about the comings and goings and goings-on around their little town. I seem to remember that they actually called themselves “The Stitch and Chatter Club.” I played with paper dolls or baby dolls, and listened. With “Stitch and Chatter,” I discovered the best way to hear what my grown-ups were saying about what they were thinking and feeling — be quiet and pretend that you are not listening. It was better than reading a newspaper, or listening to a town crier — the feelings were real and sometimes raw. There was no pretense about the facts, and no mistaking the reactions to those facts.

At home after visiting Grandmother, I found another great listening spot — under Mama’s dining room table. We didn’t eat there; we ate in the kitchen. When I played under the table, Mama and her friends or my aunts had their coffee and talked about yesterday’s radio news. I think that they forgot I was there. They were interested in national and international events. Some members of our family were in the service, and stationed around the world — in places whose names were becoming familiar. The leaders of our country, and those of our allies, were mentioned and discussed. There were lively discussions of national politics and world events, and there were often some speculations regarding how these events would impact our family and our friends.

As I hear discussions of today’s news, and especially as I hear references to historical events, I remember my days under the quilting frame and under the dining room table. I know that someday our news stories from today and tomorrow will be the stuff of history.

“We are tomorrow’s past.” Mary Webb