I read an interesting piece in The Star Tribune Monday. Freelance writer Tod Nelson writes about how to manage your records as you move into smaller facilities and possibly a simpler life.. The idea apply to young adults moving into full independence and to people making mid-life alterations. Nelson also applies his recommendations to oldsters, like me, who may be able to glimpse the terminal at the end of the line.
The one missing element in the story that I found quite disturbing, and, I suspect, is disturbing to many historians, is to at least thoughtfully consider history. It's true, most of us will live and pass out of this life without making newsworthy contributions to the fabric or the perseverance of humankind. However, the lack of documented life is a constant source of frustration to researchers, especially those who lie to include context in their work.
Perhaps its my close and long association with an assistant director of publications and research at the Minnesota Historical Society that has influenced my position here. I recall learning of a political leader who's family and staff deposited twenty linear feet of documents with the MHS! Of course, most of us won't have that kind of record, but we should all recognize that ordinary daily life provides vital context for almost all historical research, writing and presentations.
I've been present many times, listening to the the intense frustrations of historical researchers who seek well-identified photographs of local folks and local events to give depth and understanding of daily life in ordinary towns and villages. And it isn't just the big archives like the National Archives or the MHS that are interested. Local, city town and county societies employ trained historians who may be excited to consider and evaluate what you consider ordinary and useless documents and photographs.
So, before you turn on that shredder, contact your local historical society and find out what they are interested in preserving. Do it before you find yourself traveling that path through a dim landscape into the next possible obscurity.