Share Who You Are While You Can....

(Originally Published 4 May, 2014)

“To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.”   ― Thomas Campbell

I was listening to a speaker at National  History Day earlier in the spring talk about going through a loved one's belongings after they had passed.  As he dug through boxes and bags and stacks of books and papers, he realized that he did not really know who this person was.  He was holding history in his hands and was unsure how they connected to the person who owned them.

Don't let your children go through the same thing.  Talk to them while you are alive.  Tell stores of how it was when you were a child.  Talk to them about your teachers, and your favorite subject and the first person you had a crush on.  Talk to them about sitting together at the dinner table as a family, and laugh together about some of the witty sayings that your parents had.  "Thank the good Lord and pass the potatoes" was one of my favorites.

Give your children stories about you to pass on to their children.  You could even sit down and start writing your memoirs, a memory book that can be passed down.  It doesn't have to be anything fancy, just something to give them a look inside your life before they knew you.

Share your stories, no matter how silly.  Memories of you is what will keep you alive for generations to come.

The Year was 1976...

(Originally Published 3 Oct 2014)

Our country celebrated its bicentennial, I graduated from high school, and Alex Haley published his novel “ROOTS: The Saga of an American Family”.  

Roots managed to accomplish things that few books had.  It not only created a political, social, racial and cultural dialogue, but it put the spotlight on genealogy, tracing your family tree.  Though the novel has been proven to be genealogically inaccurate, it was still the catalyst for the surge in ‘ancestor curiosity’, wondering who the ‘roots’ of your family tree were.  It was why one of my assignments in a college honors class the following year was to write a three-generation family history paper.  That assignment was the beginning of my obsession (er, passion) for genealogical research.

Genealogical research is like writing your own multi-genre novel, on a very personal level.  Take my family tree for example.  I have several kin who served in the military.  I can write chapters on men who were Civil War deserters and fought against members of my husband’s family in the same battles.  I can also write about the same deserter who started another family in northern state without letting his family in the southern states know he was still alive and well.

I have pictures of my grandmother, mother and all of my aunts, each wearing the same fringe dress that my uncle had brought home from his WWII service in the South Pacific.  It brings them to life for me again, seeing them act silly and carefree.

I remember the lump in my throat when my son came home from the Vietnam Memorial on his eighth grade trip with a picture of my cousin’s name etched on that marble slab.  A true American hero, Boge gave his life to save the lives of the men in his platoon.  They even named a tank park after him at Fort Knox.

I can write chapters on ancestors who have left their homes in foreign countries and traveled to the ‘land of opportunity’, only to disappear once the ship left the home harbor.  I can write stories about their families who did make it to America but struggled to stay alive when the dreams of ‘streets lined with gold’ didn’t come true.

I sympathize with the immigrant mother of three whose brave husband joined the ranks of the Union soldiers to fight against the Confederate hoard shortly after arriving in New York from Germany.  When he was killed in the line of duty, she was left doing laundry to put a roof over their heads and food in their mouth.

I can retell the tales of the 1937 Ohio River Flood as it decimated my hometown in Southeastern Indiana.  I can write a chapter on how my mother’s family was separated from each other and sent to live in various camps and with various families until the water subsided and they could start rebuilding their lives.  I can relate the fact that my mother could not eat rice to the day she passed because that is about all she had when she was living in the refugee camp in Indianapolis waiting to come home.

I can write stories about the little things in life that made our ancestors unique.  For example, according to the census, my grandfather was the only one on his street that had a radio in the house.  I can see their home being a community gathering place.  I can visualize the kids playing outside  while the 'grownups' sit around the radio listening to the latest in music and news.

To me, genealogy is not just names, places and dates.  It is unraveling the pieces to the puzzle of who I am.  It is the telling of the stories, the histories, of the kin that came before us.  It is our responsibility to make sure their struggles and their victories are not forgotten.  It is our right to know who and what our roots are.  Genealogy is researching and writing the great novel of ‘Ourstory’ which ties in with ‘History’ quite well.

Thank you, Alex, for bringing to light the importance of our ancestors.

Let Them Live Through Your Memories...

(Originally published 21 Oct 2014)

I never knew my cousin Boge.  His real name was Philip Neil Farmer, but everyone called him Boge.  They still do to this day.  He was a good ole’ country boy, son to Doug and Nan, and lived out on SR 1 in Guilford.  And…he was a war hero.

I never realized this until I started researching my family tree.  My brother and sister are much older than I am (18 years and 16 years) respectively so I did not grow up with the same set of cousins and family that they did.  (They keep saying Mom and Dad had a surprise when I came along…I just say my folks kept trying till they finally reached perfection.)  Boge was born October 4, 1931, and after high school enlisted in the army, serving in both the Korean and Vietnam Conflicts.

It was April 11, 1969.  Boge and his company, Troop B, 1st Squadron, 1st Cavalry Regiment, Americal Division, was on a search and clear mission near the village of Bao Binh Ha.  They were ambushed by hostile troops.  SFC Farmer crawled 75 meters back to his vehicle through open rice paddies.  He received wounds in his right arm from enemy snipers.  Although wounded, he directed three tanks in an assault which over ran the communist stronghold.

Enemy fire soon erupted from a secondary location armed with antitank rounds, wounding or killing the entire crew of the lead vehicle.  Leaving the safety of his own tank, Sergeant Farmer crossed the rice paddies again to assist the injured in the other vehicle.  He climbed into the disable ‘track’ (tank) and started firing on the enemy when a rocket-propelled grenade struck the gun shield of his weapon, wounding him fatally.  He left behind a wife and son, mother and father, sisters, brothers, cousins and friends who loved him dearly.

In his 38 short years, Boge earned 2 Silver Stars, 4 Bronze Stars, 2 Purple Hearts and the Distinguished Service Cross (awarded posthumously). They also dedicated the “Farmer Tank Park” in his honor at Ft. Knox, Kentucky.  Like I said, he was a war hero.

One of my main drives and passions in genealogy is to make sure that people are remembered and not forgotten.  As long as their stories and memories are passed down, told and retold, our ancestors will live on.  This is especially true of the countless hundreds of thousands of men, women and, yes, children, who played roles in our military history.  Whether they gave comfort to the wounded, prayed over the dead, lost limbs or their grasp on reality, or paid the ultimate price for freedom, they are just as important as Boge and the other highly decorated heroes.

My family is a military family.  My dad and several uncles served in WWII.  I had cousins who have served in Desert Storm, and Vietnam and Korea, each and every one of them wishing they were home in bed, but fulfilling, what they felt was, their duty to the land that gave them a home and a chance to succeed.  My grandfather-in-law (is that a real word – well it is now, I guess) served with General Pershing in France in the war to end all wars, WWI.  And both my husband I have several ancestors who fought for the blue or the gray, and in one case, fought against each other in the same battle.

I know that this blog can be considered too early to celebrate Veterans Day which is next month.  I guess what I am saying is that every day should be Veterans Day, because without the brave, scared, and lonely men and women who have served this country, I would not have the freedom to write this.

Do your part.  Find a veteran in your past and learn their story.  Then pass it on so they are not forgotten and did not sacrifice in vain.

Pass the Potatoes Please...

(Originally published 10 Oct 2014)

Food…when I was growing up, and even to this day, food was much more than something to nourish the body.  It was the key component to family gatherings; whether it be holidays, celebrations, or tragedies.  It did more than feed the corporal body, it fed the soul, it gave people a gathering place, it was a part of the center or hearth, of the home.

There were no fast food places around when I was a child, at least not like now.  We did have an A&W Root Beer a couple of miles away and it was definitely a treat when Dad said we could get takeout from there.  Usually we would get burgers and onion rings, and of course a gallon jug of their root beer.  But, outside of those rare occasions, meals were prepared at home.  Nothing packaged, nothing processed.  They were made from scratch with love.  

My mom was a fantastic cook.  We still joke to this day that she would make enough food to feed the entire fifth army.  She would say that if folks dropped by, she could offer them a hot meal and a warm place to eat.

Regular dinners were always served when Dad got home from work – usually around 4pm.  Mom always had a warm meal waiting with staples like meatloaf, mashed potatoes, chicken, pork chops, noodles, spaghetti, and on and on.  After dinner, I would do homework, Dad would go to his workshop and mom would clean up and then watch TV. Dinner was the one time each day that we spent time together as a family.

Sunday dinners were always a family affair.  The entire family, including my brother, sister and their respective spouses and children, would always make their way home on a Sunday afternoon.  Mom always had fried chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, corn, green beans, wilted lettuce, and a bread or roll of some kind. (No one EVER left hungry!) After dinner, the ‘men-folk’ would sprawl out in the living room and fall asleep in front of whatever sporting event was on television at the time.  The women would clean up after dinner and then sit in the kitchen talking and sharing the latest gossip.  If it was Thanksgiving, the ladies would bring out the Scrabble board and play the afternoon away.  If it was Christmas, my brother’s family would put on a foot-stomping concert in the living room with their guitars and banjos.

Thanksgiving…the ultimate feast.  The men would always go hunting and dinner was usually planned for around one.  They would come in, cold and frostbit, wash up and join everyone else at the dinner table (still dressed in camo).  Of course we had the required ‘kids table’ where all the grandchildren would sit (usually on the back porch) and it was a definite rite of passage to finally get old enough to join the grownups in the kitchen.  Mom would start dinner around 4am, so that the turkey (usually the size of a small ostrich) would be tender and juicy.  Add to that some homemade dressing, green beans, yams with marshmallows, mashed potatoes with gravy, corn and buns.  There were always 4-5 homemade pies sitting out on the washer and dryer for dessert.  In order to make sure everyone was happy with dessert, there was apple, pumpkin, pecan, strawberry-rhubarb and lemon meringue, ice cream and cake.  There were easily 15-20 people at a normal Thanksgiving, but looking back, that small house never seems crowded or cramped. There was always room for family.

If someone close to us suffered a death in the family, the first thing everyone did was to make a casserole for them.  We knew that the grieving person would not feel like cooking meals, so it was our responsibility to make sure they did not go without.  Here again, food was the mechanism to let friends and family know they weren’t alone and we were there for them if they needed us.

There are still certain foods that bring back memories.  For example, whenever we have chili for dinner, I still miss the plate of Ritz Crackers and grape jelly that would sit in the middle of the table.  It may not sound appetizing, but as a child, nothing could beat that combination.  My dad and I would always share Oreo’s and milk when mom went to Bingo on Sunday nights at St. Lawrence.  We would sit at the table and share quality time and then watch The Wonderful World of Disney.  That is time I will never get back.

Food in our family was never fancy.  It was always downhome cooking, made with ingredients found around the home and seasoned with love.  It was a reason to gather together just to be a family.  It was comforting and self-medicating when life handed you a bump in the road.  It was sweet and joyous when there was a birth, birthday, or any other cause for celebration.  It was grounding when you needed to belong.  It was much more than just nourishment for the body, it was nourishment for the soul.  The kitchen was the first place you headed when you walked in the front door, because you knew mom always had something waiting to munch on.

Food was the thread that held our family together through the good times and the bad.  It was the magnet that brought all of us home when we needed to belong.  It is food – not love – that is the universal language.

Now, When I was your age....

First Published 9 March 2015

 

Just about anyone who is on Facebook has seen the photos of obsolete items that we knew and used and couldn't life without.  Remember those small inserts that you put in 45 rpm records so you could play them on your stereo?  How about wringer washers...or clotheslines...or roller skates that you tightened on your shoes with a key?  It is amazing how quickly, in our lifetime alone, technology has advanced farther than we could have every dreamed.

I know that my children (ranging in age from 15 to 30+) have never used a typewriter.  Remember how much fun it was to erase a typing mistake - especially if you were using carbon paper?  Well, heck, when I was young, you couldn't take a calculator into math class with you...now they are considered mandatory school supplies.

Do you realize that most people in the current generation never had to dial '1' to get long distance --cell phones don't require it.  Hey, I am old enough to remember party lines.  Our home phone number was 932-J.

It's nothing today to have 200+ channels on TV, along with Netflix, Hulu and Amazon, if you are looking for something to watch.  You can record shows to watch at a later time (so you can fast-forward through the commercials), or stream them live on your computer or device.  Gone are the days of the family gathering together to watch their favorite weekly show - or going back even father in time - gathering around the radio to listen to the next episode of [insert announcer's voice here] "The Continuing Saga of (insert name of show here)".  Now, with so many households having multiple television, computers, tablets, etc., the only time the family gathers is during the commercials at the fridge.

We used to play games with family and friends.  Remember Operation, Stratego, Monopoly, Battleship, Connect 4, Life, Sorry and Yatzee?  Now the games are on line or electronic and go by the names of Killzone, Final Fantasy, Grand Theft Auto, Mario and Kingdom of Hearts.  Here again, we don't interact with others like we used to.

Even genealogy has changed drastically because of technological advances.  Family group sheets and pedigrees were handwritten or typed.  You put stamps on research correspondence and put them in the nearest corner mailbox.  Research was done in dusty courthouse basements with books nearly as large as you are, or in dark microfilm rooms with the sound of the advancing films nearly putting you to sleep.  Now you can send an email to get information, and a lot of your research information can be found online at Ancestry, Fold3 or Family Search.  Instead of writing down every bit of information, just input them into Legacy, or Family Tree Maker (or a myriad of other genealogical programs)--all without leaving the comfort of your home.

Don't get me wrong -- I love technology and use it whenever I can. It often makes life a whole lot easier.  I DO miss the human interaction, the connection to living people as well as the dead.  It's still there, you just have to work harder to achieve it.  But, ponder for a moment, what day to day 'must haves' will be obsolete within the next 2 generations.  Scary, isn't it?