I’ve been teaching this Women and Story workshop for the past couple of years. Me and a couple of super talented friends have travelled to be with a bunch of different women’s groups, and we’ve talked about our stories and how important it is to share them. The workshop has changed over the years, and we don’t do this introduction exercise any more. But I kind of loved it when we did.
We’d ask each woman to stand and introduce herself by sharing her name and then the names of her grandmothers. It always touched my heart when it was my turn to offer my introduction, and it was interesting to see the reactions of the workshop women as they did the same.
I usually got a little choked up. Bad workshop leader.
The women had a variety of responses. Some couldn’t remember the names of grandmothers. Some were conflicted in who to name as mother, depending on their circumstances. Some offered mini histories with the names they spoke.
It’s important, I think, to stop from time to time and remember who we come from. To remember the women we come from.
My mom was the oldest girl in a large farming family in southern Saskatchewan, which translated into lots of work and very little money. I’ve seen the house she grew up in. Very small, very crowded, very few luxuries, but extended family coming out her ears. Aunties and uncles and cousins galore, and a little Lutheran church in which to gather for Sunday sermons and summer weddings and funerals. You couldn’t throw a rock without hitting a Norwegian in those parts. Uff da.
I knew her mom, Gladys, as Grandma, and by the time I was aware of her, her face was lined with her years. She was widowed young, and moved off the farm when I was a baby. Her tiny house was the gathering place for family dinners of KFC and goulash, and lefse-making each winter. She was a constant in my young life. When I moved back to my home town, when my own boys were babies, Grandma and I spent many hours in her little nursing home room, looking through photo albums and talking about the good old days.
My dad’s mom, Pearl, was something else. I remember marvelling at her long, white hair and her little flirtations with my grandpa. They were old, it seemed, but they still had fun together and I knew there was something special there even when I was a little girl. She gave me a white bible with a zippered case when I turned eight, and she taught me how to tat, and I thought she was amazing. I grew up surrounded by Norwegians, and her American background and accent made her seem exotic.
Each of these women had a harder life than I have had. They had fewer opportunities, less education, tougher financial situations. They struggled in ways I’ve not had to. I hope I’ve learned the important things from them. That God loves me. That family matters. That even when life is hard there is joy.
I’m grateful to be the daughter of Shirley, and the granddaughter of Gladys and Pearl.
July 11, 2014 at 12:42 pm
Because I’m the grandson of Jim, this almost made me tear up. Let me reach his years and the tearing will be complete. Thank you for the reminder of our heritage.
July 11, 2014 at 2:01 pm
Oh, Jimmy, my heart is with all of you this weekend. I wish I could be there. Love you all.
July 11, 2014 at 2:49 pm
I love this! I would have loved to be a part of those groups also. I am DAF daughter of Elizabeth, granddaughter of Mary Ellen and Carrie Jesse… Mary Ellen learned to walk on the boat coming from Ireland, Carrie was the first American born of German parents who came over from the Black Forest.
July 11, 2014 at 3:57 pm
I love those old, traditional names. What beautiful history to know about the women in your past.
July 11, 2014 at 8:01 pm
I agree.
July 12, 2014 at 2:05 am
I am the daughter of Marion, the granddaughter of Lily and Eva and the great granddaughter of Emma, Sarah, Rosetta and Annie, the great great granddaughter of Mary, Elizabeth, Lavinia, Jane, Rebecca, Margaret, Victoria, Ann Elizabeth. Yet in this life i have only known my mother and my grandmother Lily the rest were all gone before i came along by researching my family history i have come to know them.
You might like this site – https://familysearch.org/ Although it is hosted by the church you can sign up for an account and add your family history, stories and photos and it’s free. We think we will be around forever but in reality we won’t and the stories we know will go with us unless we keep them safe. Oh and the church will not come knocking on the door 🙂
I am borrowing your idea and passing it forward.
July 16, 2014 at 8:03 pm
Haha! That’s good to know:) thanks for the link.
July 17, 2014 at 2:00 am
I was trying to work out my daughter’s with her but it was harder not really knowing her dad’s side of the family, but we are working on it.
July 16, 2014 at 6:38 pm
I really enjoyed this. I am the daughter of Jeni, granddaughter of Pat, great granddaughter of Mabel and Gertrude
July 16, 2014 at 8:01 pm
Love it:)