Whether you visit with family and friends at grandma’s house or your own this week, I encourage you to take some photos, have at least one “meaningful memory” conversation with your oldest relative, and get that “favorite holiday food” recipe. We never know how limited our time with loved ones may be or how many more opportunities we may have to benefit from our elders’ memories and experiences. I regret that I didn’t ask my great-grandmother more questions about my great-grandfather and their life together. I wish that I knew more about my grandparent’s move to California. And as much as we talked and talked about the past and about her childhood on Liberty Hill, my mom never mentioned that she was in the band. It never occurred to me to ask her much about school, and I didn’t find her band certificate until after she died. I didn’t know that Dad hitchhiked to California, until he casually mentioned it one afternoon about a month before his death. His story about sleeping in a cardboard box in Flagstaff was entertaining and enlightening.
I am thankful to be part of a family of writers, so I have written copies of family stories, such as the following excerpt from Aunt Martha’s life story. But how much better to make a video and record a story in your family member’s own voice!
“Another bad memory is that of the Great Depression that struck during the time we were raising our family- just when it hurt the worst. Much has been said and written about the depression, but I do not believe anyone who did not actually experience it can know how bad it was. We lived on a farm and managed to have food, but we surely suffered for want of other necessities. I saw my husband literally walk the shoes off his feet in search of work, any work that could bring in a dollar, and there was no work. I saw my children go without things they needed and I became quite bitter. When I read Dickens’s Tale of Two Cities, of course to do not approve of the use of the guillotine and the wholesale slaughter of the upper class, but I can certainly understand how it all came about. During those dark days of the depression if the people had started a shooting war I believe I would have joined them. Those days left emotional scars that I will carry to my grave.
I could tell about many things that happened during the depression, some things that the younger generation would find hard to believe. Movie tickets were twenty-five cents, but we seldom went, for our quarters were too badly needed for other things. My husband really tried hard to support us. His search for work took us to different places.
For two years we were on a small farm that belonged to my brother Ira. It was located east of Wewoka, Oklahoma. There was a drought in addition to the depression and many farmers had to sell their cattle. Sometimes there was not a market for them, and whole herds of cattle would be slaughtered and the meat distributed among the neighbors. My husband bought young cows when he could and slaughtered and dressed them out and delivered the meat to the local butcher shops. (In those days and at that place meat inspection was not required.) We kept for our use only the least salable parts for we needed the money the choice parts brought. In those days I learned to make good oxtail soup.”
We tend to take people for granted, especially if we think we know them well. Jesus said “A prophet is not without honor except in his own country, among his own relatives, and in his own house.” Perhaps this week we can pay more attention to those people in our families who have stories to share. Gathering together should be about more than just sharing food. It should be about sharing who we are…