On Wednesday, All Souls' Day, I started a post about remembering all my grandparents. I pulled out some photos that were still packed in a box to set out on our buffet, altar style. A few fake flowers from our "fall decor" box were scattered about, and we have one porcelain skull painted Calavera style to sit amongst the photos, although you can't see it in this photo. Our daughter had to take a photo of her grandparents, my parents and in-laws, to school the next day, so that night we pulled out some of the old printed photographs to find something to share with her class for grandparents day.
This had me wondering first, why don't we print photos any more - Poor youngest daughter, she doesn't have photos of herself to look at beyond her first year. And secondly, why don't I tell her more stories about her grandparents and great grandparents? I was so, so lucky to live around the block from my grandparents when I was little. I was over at their house daily. Then my parents moved a little further, but we were still with the grandparents weekly if not more. They ended up living just a block away from each other, so we could visit both in one day. Once I started driving, I could drive myself to their houses, and I did. After track practice, I'd stop at one or the other's house. I'd eat a snack, chit chat, maybe do a little yard work, and then head home. They'd ask me about school, life, what I was reading, tell me stories abut their youth, etc.
It was a blessing to have these four old people who wanted to know me, to hear about my day, give me affirmation. We've tried to be intentional about making sure our kids have relationships with their grandparents, but it's been harder as they've grown older and have school and work and their own friends to get them to go on trips back to see the old folks. And it's even more of a loss for my youngers, who saw the grandparents even less while we lived in Guam and California. Now that we are a little closer, I hope we can establish more frequent visits- so far we have. My parents need to take on the roles of storytellers, to share the past, the history of our family, the folklore of the family - the kidnapping of my grandfather, the polio my other grandfather had. The dances my maternal grandmother had in her living room. There are lots of tales to tell - the kinds that reveal character and give roots. I tried to tell a few as I set out the photos, but I don't have the magic touch. The pictures will have to do.
.
2 comments:
Kidnapping?! Is that a story you can share here?
My grandfather told it much better than I could - His parents divorced when he was little, and he was sent to live with his maternal grandparents at their apple orchard. One night his paternal uncles came over with a ladder and stole him out of his room and took him to his other grandparents' house. I can't remember now how he was returned. I'll have to ask my dad or my aunt, the family historian. But what brought the disagreement between families to an end was my great-grandfather dying in a car accident when he hit a telephone pole after a night of drinking.
Post a Comment