I don't know about any of you, but I am really feeling the need for family more every day. Funny how when you are a teen, you sort of push away from your family as you try to establish who you are. Then you hit your thirties and start to realize that a large part of who you are is where you come from. You look around and see that your great grandparents are mostly gone, your grandparents are slipping away and your parents are people who you are now old enough to appreciate as individuals, not just parents. Your brothers and sisters are no longer the people you fight with, but are now the people you turn to in times of joy and sorrow. Of course, that is just my personal experience. Maybe you are one of the lucky ones who kept up those relationships your whole life. Myself... I am working on it right now.
I spent yesterday scanning family photos for my wife. I borrowed the books from her uncle. As I was going through them with her, we realized that she doesn't know the names of many of the relatives pictured, even the names of her great grandparents. She has no stories associated with many of the people in the pictures. And it made me think about something my dad did when I was young. He sat down with my great grandmother Stanojevich and got her talking. She told stories about her mom and dad, her brothers and sisters and sang some songs in her native language. Unfortunately, it was too late to record most of my other great grandparents. Alzheimer's had taken my great grandfather, and senile dementia had the other two remaining great grandmothers.
So, this made me think about what we leave for our children and their children. What do we know about our older generation? What stories are we missing? What can we do now to preserve that history? What makes this even harder is how fractured our families have become. Divorce, children born out of wedlock, deaths in the family... all these gaps in our connections make it hard to get the narrative of your family. I wonder if I am the only one who wonders about my family's past. I don't mean just the names and other facts, although I know those are important to many. I mean the stories... Like, how did your great grandparents meet? What was it like when he left to go to war and she had to get a job outside the house for the first time? Did his mother like her? Did her father think he would never amount to anything? What about when they came to America, like my great grandparents... was that terrifying? What about the barber shop they owned?
So many questions... And I can't ask them. But I can ask my mom and dad... and when my son has grand kids, they will have some stories to share.
I spent yesterday scanning family photos for my wife. I borrowed the books from her uncle. As I was going through them with her, we realized that she doesn't know the names of many of the relatives pictured, even the names of her great grandparents. She has no stories associated with many of the people in the pictures. And it made me think about something my dad did when I was young. He sat down with my great grandmother Stanojevich and got her talking. She told stories about her mom and dad, her brothers and sisters and sang some songs in her native language. Unfortunately, it was too late to record most of my other great grandparents. Alzheimer's had taken my great grandfather, and senile dementia had the other two remaining great grandmothers.
So, this made me think about what we leave for our children and their children. What do we know about our older generation? What stories are we missing? What can we do now to preserve that history? What makes this even harder is how fractured our families have become. Divorce, children born out of wedlock, deaths in the family... all these gaps in our connections make it hard to get the narrative of your family. I wonder if I am the only one who wonders about my family's past. I don't mean just the names and other facts, although I know those are important to many. I mean the stories... Like, how did your great grandparents meet? What was it like when he left to go to war and she had to get a job outside the house for the first time? Did his mother like her? Did her father think he would never amount to anything? What about when they came to America, like my great grandparents... was that terrifying? What about the barber shop they owned?
So many questions... And I can't ask them. But I can ask my mom and dad... and when my son has grand kids, they will have some stories to share.
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