The ties that bind

I started this blog post a year ago, and saved it in my drafts. I was a little busy going through cancer treatment at the time so this fell off my radar.

What you see is a photo of my granddaughter holding a photo of me as a little girl standing in front of the same piano Alison is standing in front of. I don't remember us not having that piano, and I played it all the time growing up. Oddly, I never took piano lessons although I did become a musician, first on flute and later and for much longer as an oboist.

My younger son and his wife were downsizing before they moved to a much smaller house (moving from Arizona to California will do that to you). They really couldn't take the piano with them so they found another family who wanted one. I like knowing that other children are playing away on that piano and I hope they enjoy it as much as I did and as Ben's kids did.

I'm a little slow

On their grand, cross-country road trip last spring, Mom and Dad brought us two pictures. One is a Charley Harper print they've had for years and that I've always loved. The other is a pastel drawing of my mother when she was 12 years old. I'd always told her she wasn't to throw it away, that if she got to the point where she didn't want it any more, she should give it to me. So she did.

Here they are in new frames, which go better with the rest of our pictures:

The ties that bind

I'm not sure exactly why it is I crave ties to my family's history. Perhaps it's because my biological father's side is mostly a blank. He died about 14 years ago and we'd been estranged for many years before that. I didn't really know his brother, my uncle, and his parents were not young when I was born. In fact, they were both born in the 1800s. So I don't know much about them.

Instead I cling to what I have from my mother's side. I love seeing pictures of my G'Pa and Mana when they were young, I've always tried (and mostly failed) to find physical resemblances there too. I can look at my brother and one of my sisters and see how they look like our grandparents, and somehow that's comforting to me.

I love it that sewing is something I share with my aunt after whom I'm named, and my grandmother. My mother has sewn all her life too but her interests lie more in creating artisan quilts rather than clothing. And we are all gourmet cooks, we cannot help it. I think it's just innate and even though I tried not to get interested in cooking well, I did anyway. I'm (secretly) pleased that my younger son has this ability and interest too. He's fearless in the kitchen and I smile when I see him in action (and I smile more when I eat his food -- the man can cook).

Last week I got an email from my aunt Liz. She mentioned that she had some family things of Mana's -- old teacups and some saucers and stuff. Aunt Liz and my uncle are moving and she's ready to pass those things along but wasn't sure if anyone would want them. My mother knows me well and told Liz she might see if I were interested. Well of course I was, and on Thursday the box arrived.

I have to say, I thought there'd be a few cups and such but instead the box was full. It was like Christmas opening all those lovely things. I've had a chance now to get them arranged in our built in display cabinet in the dining room and I think they look lovely there.

With the exception of the clock (which is from Kent's side of the family) and the framed wax display to the right of the clock (oh and the cat on the top shelf), all of these things are from my family. The pig on the bottom shelf is my mother's piggy bank when she was a girl leaving home, and the jar on the top shelf toward the right is also my grandmother's and held some sort of scented leaves. Everything else was in the box from my aunt -- and in the cabinet to the left, I've got the tea cups and saucers and dessert plates.

I have been smiling all day, just feeling a little more connected to my family. As I said, I don't know why I'm wired this way. I just know that I am and having these things to cherish and take care of and at some point pass on to the next family historian/caretaker fills me with joy.

Family history

We flew to Virginia Saturday for a surprise party for Ben. He's completed seminary and in fact took his oral exams that day (he passed!).

About six or eight months ago, when it was clear he'd be finishing this year, I knew I wanted to give him my grandfather's childhood Bible. For the most part, I'm the family historian among my siblings -- it's not that they don't care about our family history, it's just a lot more important to me. So I've collected various family odds and ends and as I've had the appropriate occasion, I've passed them along. For example, I saved both of my mother's childhood tea sets and gave one to my sister Amy and the other one to my sister Martha.

I'd gotten G'Pa's Bible after he died at age 95 in 2005 and just hung on to it. It's in remarkably good shape, only the binding is damaged. It's clear that this Bible was intended for children, but not because it's in some simplified language. It's not, it's a King James version, but it's got illustrations sprinkled throughout. And at the very end of the Bible, after the Book of Revelations, there's a page that says "End." That just tickles me.

Anyway, I had Kent take a picture of the inscription page. I'm pretty sure that G'Pa's sister is Anna Margaret  Wood. She was a few years older; G'Pa would have been seven the year he received this. Now it's in Ben's hands, which is where it belongs. Not only has he completed seminary, he also collects old books and Bibles, and he too is the family historian of his generation.