Last summer I took a road trip from St. Louis to central Wisconsin to visit a dear friend who was in the middle of chemotherapy treatment. For the most part, I wanted to see if she was okay. I wanted to hug her, look at her, and assure myself that the chemicals were winning over the cancer. Another part of me wanted to encourage her...to scrapbook.

Oh, I know we shouldn’t preach about our addictions. But I thought of all we two had been through in 16 years of friendship—a miscarriage, a divorce, two marriages, two births, a return to graduate school, a bounce-back from depression, and authorship of two books—and I worried that her seven-year-old son might not realize how truly special she is. As an author and a mother, she has already made two lasting contributions to the world. But as her friend, I know those contributions to be the tip of an iceberg. I see her as a courageous woman, a thoughtful and sensitive historian, a loyal and caring friend, a cheering section, a keen mind, a fellow book lover, and on and on. The last day I visited we wandered into a craft store, and I outfitted her with a "starter set" of scrapbook supplies.

"Deckle scissors are indispensable," I lectured. "They cover a multitude of sins. Photo splits, well, can’t live without them. This pack of die cuts will get you started. You can journal on them and use them behind photos or to decorate your page. The paper must be archival, as well as the pen." * We walked up to the checkout counter with our basket loaded. The woman behind us in line heard what I was doing and said, "Gee, would you be my friend, too?"

In the car, I continued to explain the basics of scrapping, pausing only for air. Then my friend managed to slip in a question, a wee small question, that rocked my world. "If I only do a few pages, what are the most important pages to do?"

Pause and think. How would you answer her? You see, we can read bout heritage albums. We can put together ABC albums. We can finish tribute albums. But we haven’t tackled legacy albums. As a sisterhood (with our rare and precious few scrapbooking brothers), we haven’t really plumbed the depth of this whole "craze." We haven’t discussed how we can use our scrapbooks to leave a legacy of love.

Since then, I’ve put myself in her place. Not hard to do since I, too, have a young son. And, I’ve thought about her question as I’ve talked to scrapbookers all over the country. Seems to me, we’re doing a great job of saving photos and memorabilia, but we’re falling short when it comes to values. The truth is, that’s what I want to pass on. That’s what I need to pass on.

What I want to leave behind is a sense of who I am, what I’ve learned and how much I’ve loved being alive. To do that, I’ll have to go beyond birthday, holiday and wedding pages. In addition to them, I’ll have to concentrate on what really matters—and I’ll have to come up with new ideas to say what I want to say.

For example, an astute scrapbooker might look at a page with a birthday cake that took me all night to make, and translate that page and photos into, "Look! I love you so much that I moved way out of my comfort zone. I gave up sleep. I exposed myself to ridicule. And I did it joyfully because I love you and I wanted everything to be perfect even though it never is, ‘cause I think you’re perfect!"

But, I can’t be sure that my son can read my Morse code. Some of us are on AM and some of us are on FM, and what if he’s tuned to a different frequency when the time comes that I can’t lean over and hug him?

Turning this over in my mind, a few indelible messages soon surfaced. First, they tumbled out in the form of a letter:

Dear Michael,

When I’m gone, here’s what I want you to know:

• What the happiest days of my life were...
• What the saddest day of my life was...
• Why I married your father and why I love him so...
• What obstacles I overcame and what I learned...
• What happened during my lifetime that made an impression on me...
• What I was grateful for...
• Who you can turn to...
• What filled me with joy...
• What I hope for you...
• What you have meant to me...
• What I believe in...
• My wish list (the virtues I’ve tried to incorporate to be a worthwhile person)...

But I became very motivated to do the pages while they were taking form in my imagination. To get a consistent look, I used paper from Keeping Memories Alive. The colors are harmonious and gentle, which is exactly what I wanted to "feel" of the book to be. Then I decided on a "style." I wanted the pages to stay simple yet elegant. I tried die cuts, but they seemed too small for these grandiose ideas. So, I outlined die cuts and enlarged them on my copier for patterns. Along with punch-art embellishment, the look is simple but bold. On the computer, I wrote the copy and headline for each page. Using the same size and style of type gave the finished pages continuity. Someday I hope to share my questions with other family members. Also, I want to ask these questions of Michael. As he grows, the answers will change, but those changes will document his growth as a person. The album I envision is sort of an autobiography, a story of me, with photos. Shortly after I conceived this album, a conversation on the way home from picking Michael up at school validated the need for it. He had a bad day. We discussed it, and he lamented, "Mom, I’m so sorry. I’m trying hard. Really I am. I wish I would do better." I heard the disappointment in his voice. I realized how much maturity he was showing by even noticing that his bad day had gone a long way toward ruining mine. "Honey, I know you’re trying," I said. "I can tell. But we all have setbacks. Think of them as speed bumps in the road. We all hit speed bumps." "But why do I have more speed bumps than other people?" he moaned. "You don’t. It just seems that way. I’ve hit lots of bumps in my life. I still do." He turned his face to me, suffused with hope, and said, "Could you tell me about them?" One day we won’t be sitting side by side in the car. If he’s alone, he won’t be able to ask me. I won’t be able to tell him what I’ve learned. Or what I hope he’s learning. But, if I can just create a few pages, if I can just ask myself the right questions (see "Key Questions to Ask" that follows), I’ll be able to leave a part of myself behind. And if we all start thinking in terms of our legacies, maybe we’ll encourage each other with our ideas for questions and pages. We’re still only looking at the tip of the iceberg, but maybe with this new approach we can mirror the part of ourselves, that large undiscovered region, beneath the water.

(Click images to enlarge)

Key Questions to Ask

The scrapbook maker is often the picture taker. Are you absent in your photos? If so, consider having photos taken that help you answer the following questions, adapted from Scrapbook Storytelling.

• Whom do I love?
• Who has been significant in my life? Why? How?
• What do I like to do?
• What do I care about?
• How do I spend my time?
• What would I miss if it were lost?
• What special memories would I like to keep?
• What customs or rituals do I (or my family) have?
• How do I make my living? Or, how do I make a contribution to this world?
• How do I express my gratitude?
• What family stories do we tell again and again?
• What favorite foods do we have?
• What are our favorite places?
• What do we do frequently? Routinely?
• What do we do with our free time?
• What hobbies do we have? (Besides scrapbooking, naturally!)
• What sorts of animals or pets do I enjoy?
• What cultural events do I attend?
• What does my heart good?
• What books, saying, philosophies matter to me?
• What makes me laugh? What makes me cry?
• What important people have I met?
• Whom have I lost?
• What is unique about me and my family?
• Where do I like to visit?
• What music do I enjoy?
• What interesting projects have I or my family taken on?
• What sorts of correspondence have I kept and why?

Notice that asking these questions helps you focus on the reason you want to keep your memories alive. Each turns your attention away from "special events" and toward "how you live your life."