The first foraging of 2014 brought 1 cup of mulberries and a pint of elder flowers once de stemmed.
Thursday, June 19, 2014
Sunday, June 15, 2014
My father's father
I come from story tellers. On both sides of my heritage stories were shared around the holiday table, at the reunion, in the back room, and often while cozy tucked on a lap.
A little one usually hears and remembers the parts with feeling or animals.
Lately, I started to think about details shared with me by the storytellers who have passed.
I have the gist of many stories but I can't quite retell them for lack of clarity.
So this weekend when one of my favorite storytellers sat beside me I saw an opportunity for details. My dear Great Uncle always brings pictures to the reunion. As we were reviewing, he pointed to my grandfather (my father's father) in a picture I hadn't seen before. I was intrigued. He looked content, holding a niece on his lap, seated near his father-in-law (the well-loved Pap Stull). A moment captured in time and it pulled on my heart.
I asked my great uncle if he could share a story of the grandfather I never knew. My father has so few memories of him. Actually the few stories shared were passed down with unclear feelings. I wondered as I looked at the photograph, did he have a good heart. Were memories distorted by the way he choose to take his life.
My Great Uncle understood. He is intuitive, thoughtful, sharp, and wonderful. He shared with me feelings for my Grandfather that had not been passed to me. Oh, these feelings, they are so powerful. And then he slept on it and he shared more. I hugged him when he finished and through a few shed tears I felt the sadness, love and deep feelings felt for him.
My interpretation of what he passed down:
Pap hired my grandfather and his brother to help on the farm. He and my grandmother took quite a strong liking to each other. They ran around together; My Great Uncle, Grandmother, and Grandfather. They went to the movies together, they carpooled to the brass factory together, they enjoyed each others company. He was not in the habit of using vulgar language and he was well loved by his father-in-law (Pap, who is very well revered by everyone who knew him).
He went to the war late. He was not is combat, he was part of the peacekeeping effort. He was away from his family for a chunk of time.
When he came back my great uncle was away in college and he saw him less.
Things changed between my grandparents and jealously and anger seemed to take over.
I'm going to derail here a bit:
I never met my grandfather but I knew my grandmother quite well. After a few pints in Dublin, Ireland, my sister and I sat with my Grandmother and she shared with us many things, including the story of the end of my grandfather's life. I feel I understand her side of the story well. I just wish I had more stories of him.
With these pieces together: (My Great Uncles and my Grandmothers) I can see a little more.
My grandmother said what she thought and didn't really care how it made the people around her feel. She felt strongly and she could be maddening. I can very clearly see a Love/ Hate relationship with her because a few times I had one. I loved her dearly but there were times I couldn't get out of the house quick enough because something she said made me so mad. I loved my grandmother in her later years, my childhood and young adulthood. My grandfather loved her in her teens and 20's, when she wore her tall up dos and her "tight titty sweaters" (her term). I can't even imagine her demeanor backed by the passion of youth!
After all of that, Here is how I choose to keep my grandfather's memory in my heart:
He was an equal match for my grandmother. He was someone who felt deeply and loved so much that it maddened him. He was a good friend to my Great Uncle. He was loved by Pap Stull.
And most of all he helped to create my father and aunt.
My father carries pieces of those that came before him. He is someone who cares deeply (like his father), is well-loved (like his grandfather), loves to share a good story (like his uncle) and has the perfect balance of heart mixed with words that can madden (like his mother).
Oh, I love him so, and all of the people who made him into the father he is to me.
A little one usually hears and remembers the parts with feeling or animals.
Lately, I started to think about details shared with me by the storytellers who have passed.
I have the gist of many stories but I can't quite retell them for lack of clarity.
So this weekend when one of my favorite storytellers sat beside me I saw an opportunity for details. My dear Great Uncle always brings pictures to the reunion. As we were reviewing, he pointed to my grandfather (my father's father) in a picture I hadn't seen before. I was intrigued. He looked content, holding a niece on his lap, seated near his father-in-law (the well-loved Pap Stull). A moment captured in time and it pulled on my heart.
I asked my great uncle if he could share a story of the grandfather I never knew. My father has so few memories of him. Actually the few stories shared were passed down with unclear feelings. I wondered as I looked at the photograph, did he have a good heart. Were memories distorted by the way he choose to take his life.
My Great Uncle understood. He is intuitive, thoughtful, sharp, and wonderful. He shared with me feelings for my Grandfather that had not been passed to me. Oh, these feelings, they are so powerful. And then he slept on it and he shared more. I hugged him when he finished and through a few shed tears I felt the sadness, love and deep feelings felt for him.
My interpretation of what he passed down:
Pap hired my grandfather and his brother to help on the farm. He and my grandmother took quite a strong liking to each other. They ran around together; My Great Uncle, Grandmother, and Grandfather. They went to the movies together, they carpooled to the brass factory together, they enjoyed each others company. He was not in the habit of using vulgar language and he was well loved by his father-in-law (Pap, who is very well revered by everyone who knew him).
He went to the war late. He was not is combat, he was part of the peacekeeping effort. He was away from his family for a chunk of time.
When he came back my great uncle was away in college and he saw him less.
Things changed between my grandparents and jealously and anger seemed to take over.
I'm going to derail here a bit:
I never met my grandfather but I knew my grandmother quite well. After a few pints in Dublin, Ireland, my sister and I sat with my Grandmother and she shared with us many things, including the story of the end of my grandfather's life. I feel I understand her side of the story well. I just wish I had more stories of him.
With these pieces together: (My Great Uncles and my Grandmothers) I can see a little more.
My grandmother said what she thought and didn't really care how it made the people around her feel. She felt strongly and she could be maddening. I can very clearly see a Love/ Hate relationship with her because a few times I had one. I loved her dearly but there were times I couldn't get out of the house quick enough because something she said made me so mad. I loved my grandmother in her later years, my childhood and young adulthood. My grandfather loved her in her teens and 20's, when she wore her tall up dos and her "tight titty sweaters" (her term). I can't even imagine her demeanor backed by the passion of youth!
After all of that, Here is how I choose to keep my grandfather's memory in my heart:
He was an equal match for my grandmother. He was someone who felt deeply and loved so much that it maddened him. He was a good friend to my Great Uncle. He was loved by Pap Stull.
And most of all he helped to create my father and aunt.
My father carries pieces of those that came before him. He is someone who cares deeply (like his father), is well-loved (like his grandfather), loves to share a good story (like his uncle) and has the perfect balance of heart mixed with words that can madden (like his mother).
Oh, I love him so, and all of the people who made him into the father he is to me.
That is my father with most eyes on him.
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