My father comes from a family of letter-writers and journal keepers. There’s no shortage of written material that tell the story of his family. The collections are precious, although I’m not sure my father is convinced they are anything special because he keeps threatening to throw them out.
My mother, on the other hand, has nothing like that. We have a family history book compiled decades ago for a family reunion, but it is more a genealogy book – a who’s who – rather than the personal letters and stories we have for Dad’s family.
My father’s family all lived relatively close by and we often visited them, but my mother’s family were much farther away and our get-togethers were yearly visits around Easter before Dad got busy with spring seeding. The consequence of those few and far between visits came to light this spring.
Mom called and mentioned that some relatives in Saskatchewan (Mom’s birthplace) were thinking of having a family reunion this summer.
I confess, my reaction was not enthusiastic which I’m sure was disappointing for my mother. My thoughts went something like this:
Seriously. We have to drive all the way to Saskatchewan for a weekend of making small talk with people I barely know? There are better ways to spend a long weekend.
I know.
I had a little talk with my selfish self. The simple fact was that it was important to my mom so it should have been important to me. I started thinking about how much fun we always had with our cousins. It was always so good to see our Aunties and Uncles and always sad when we left. Maybe it was time to put in a little effort and rekindle those relationships.
I started to look forward to the family reunion.
And then it was cancelled due to lack of interest. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who thought they had better things to do on a long weekend, but I was more disappointed than I thought I would be and I was really disappointed for my mom.
I know she has always felt like her family was less important to us. That’s not strictly true. We just don’t know them as well. The geographical distance was challenge enough, but even greater was the fact that the relationship needed to be sustained by the siblings. Both my mom’s parents died before I was even born and while sibling relationships can be close, it is often the mothers who are the ‘glue’ of the family. It is the mother who draws everyone together, but the sad, inevitable fact is no one lives forever and eventually it will be the siblings who need to have strong enough connections to keep getting together, keep the family ties strong. Distance and busy lives add a whole other element of difficulty to that task.
We’ve had some ups and downs in our family over the past year. Things have happened that have made us painfully aware that some day the stories of our parents – the memories of their early years – will be gone with them.
Just the other day, my parents shared a story with me I had never heard before. It was a humorous insight into their early days together. I said, “Mom, I wish you’d write these stories down.” In response, I got a sheepish look because we’ve had this conversation before. We’ve tried to make it easier for her by gifting her with books that you just fill in, but Mom never gets very far with those. She gets distracted by her quilting or embroidery which she clearly enjoys far more than writing.
Not too long ago, I read an article in the Huffington Post titled something like “Questions to ask your parents before it’s too late”. That article combined with the failed reunion and the realization that my parents have stories I still want, still need, to hear have prompted a new project.
I’m messaging questions to Mom. She’s messaging back her answers. It’s fantastic! The plan is to save all the questions and answers then compile them.
I know writing is not for everyone, but there are other ways to have someone tell their story and have a permanent record of it. My dad sat with his Mom and interviewed her while someone videotaped it. It is kind of amazing to hear Granny’s voice while she tells the stories of her younger years. Which reminds me, I need to have that videotape transferred to a digital medium.
Whose stories will you miss once they are gone? Maybe it’s time to think about how to preserve those memories. Personally, I think it’s a worthwhile investment of time.
And…maybe we shouldn’t give up on the idea of a family reunion either, perhaps a mini-reunion with the aunts, uncles, and cousins. Just a little something to think about…
I had a great aunt who used to write me all kinds of informative and interesting letters. We were penpals up until the year she died, at 96. That was several years before we moved away from Dawson Creek. Then I made a very poor choice, to ‘cull’ her letters so that I wouldn’t have so much to move and store when we did move. I will forever regret that decision, as I have lost that whole side of the family history, told in her own style and her own handwriting. My parents really never talked much about how they were raised, and my grandmother on my Italian side, hardly spoke English so I never got the sense of her history. I feel like an orphan, or as someone who is adopted, must feel…kinda cut off from my own family, without a sense of ‘roots.’ and it’s my own fault, for not taking the initiative when I could have, to ask the questions. To be interested in THEIR story. Now I have to rely upon geneology information, which is cold facts and figures, but not the ‘fleshing out’ of their actual story. I’ve lost that generation, which could have told me what I wanted to know, because I waited until they were in their 80’s, to even ask. Stupid of me. I will begin writing OUR history, as best I can, while I still am able, and hopefully my son or daughter will have the good sense to retain it.
I always wished I’d asked a lot more questions about life for my grandparents. My dad’s mom lived with us during the last several years of her life, and before that she lived across the street from us. She immigrated to Canada from Italy, but she spoke so very little English it never occurred to me to ask what it was like in the Old Country, or who her family was, how many brothers and sisters she had, what their names were, none of that family history. My dad never recorded it, no family from Italy ever visited and I don’t recall anyone ever writing. Grandma couldn’t read or write, just make her mark. I cannot even imagine how hard this life must have been for her, living with family who only spoke English. On my mom’s side, I know that my grandmother was a war bride, she met and married my grandfather in Portsmouth England while he was overseas for WW1. He brought her home after he was discharged. I also have a great aunt who was my favorite penpal for many years, who described her horse and buggy days and rural life in Hines Creek AB, very detailed and entertaining to read her letters. Alas, I had the stupid idea that culling those letters was a good idea before we moved from Dawson Creek, so that amazing story telling is gone. How stupid of me not to save and cherish those letters!