Recently I read an interesting “debate” online about what people wnat to have done with their journals after they pass away. I never gave this much thought because to me it’s a no-brainer. My journals are my legacy, to be given to my child. If I have no children, I want them to be divided between my niece and nephew and passed on to their children. An easy answer. This debate started in regards to the content of journals and whether you write to vent your spleen or not. Fortunatly, I decided a long time ago that I have one cardinal rule that I never violate when it comes to my journals. I never EVER write bad things about my family. First of all, I like to go back and read old journals, sometimes years after I write them. Why would I want to remember bad stuff? And since I want them to live on after me, I wouldn’t want family members to remember the bad stuff, either. Anyone other than family is fair game, however. My husband recently got a laugh out of something I wrote a few years ago about our former church and that’s what I want. I want people to read my journals, smile and remember me and my life. Maybe it’s my quest for immortality, but I want the future to know me as a positive, passionate person who loved life. And through my journals, it will.