"…and then they built their first house. Right over in the corner there by the trees."
Grandpa's story was finished. Jamie's mother stood up and exclaimed, "Grab your stuff everyone. Time to get cleaned up and off to bed.”
Grandpa sat back and smiled as he lit his pipe while Jamie and his cousins, aunts and uncles started gathering their roasting sticks, empty plates, leftover bottles and various trash that was around the fire.
Jamie enjoyed the time his family spent at Grandpa's place each summer. It was the only time he got to see his cousins other than Christmas and Grandpa's big yard was much better suited for fun than their apartment complex back home.
However, Jamie and his cousins had agreed that the nightly practice of the family listening to Grandpa ramble about a bunch of old people they didn't know had grown tiresome. When Jamie's mom stepped into the bedroom to tuck Jamie in, she overheard this topic being discussed.
She sat on the side of the bed and said to Jamie, although it was obvious this was meant for the entire room, "Jamie, Grandpa is not rambling. He is telling you the story of you."
Jamie looked at his cousins like his mom was crazy. "Grandpa doesn't tell stories about me. He tells old stories about people who died a long, long, long time ago."
His mom smiled, "No, Jamie. Those are stories about his parents and grandparents. They would be your great-grandparents and great-great-grandparents. Those stories explain where you and I come from."
Jamie knew this one. "We come from Elgin, Illinois."
"Before that, dear."
Jamie was confused. "I was born in Elgin. That's where we've always lived."
Mom laughed, "That's where you live, but who you are was being defined decades before I ever moved to Elgin with your father. The stories your grandfather tells of the young man who came to America are your stories as well. The hardships that man went through sharply defined how he looked at the world and shaped his values and work ethic. Much of that was ingrained deeply in him by his parents before he came here. Then those experiences and the people he met shaped him even more. Every decision he made, despite it being over a hundred years ago, has had an impact on the life you are living today. My dad doesn't tell these stories just because he likes to hear himself talk. These stories are for you. They are your stories. They are your family history. And believe it or not, one day you will be telling these stories to your grandchildren. And you will have more stories to add as you get older."
Jamie remembered something from tonight's campfire. "So, that story about the teenager protecting his sister from mountain lions? That was our family?"
His mom was relieved that some of her words had gotten through, "Yes. That happened to Thomas, your grandfather's father. He was my grandfather! If that story had ended differently, we wouldn't be here right now to have this conversation."
"Cool," said Jamie. He looked over at one of his cousins. "Now, I want to hear that story again."
Mom got comfortable on the bed. "Lucky for you, I've heard it many times and can tell it almost as well as Grandpa."
Aww... I love this. I have heard so many stories from both sides of my family, and it's kind of sad that they are likely not being told anymore. I mean, I guess. I don't have kids, so I'm not telling them. Maybe my siblings are doing the job.
ReplyDeleteSo often the stories only go back about two generations anyway. Beyond that, they just get lost.
DeleteMaybe one of the cousins will become a filmmaker and go back and record the grandfather telling his stories. (This is what my brother did.)
ReplyDeleteThat would be cool.
Delete