Tag: family

The Eyes Tell The Stories

Posted on July 25, 2011 by

The Eyes Tell The Story

The eyes stare at me from the photograph, beckoning me to explore.  I turn it over, determined to learn more.  If I’m lucky, I find a name or date to lead me to the story.  If I’m really lucky, I get more-a narrative, a nugget of information, a description of the subject’s outfit.  Regardless, I file the image and search for more clues.

This summer my husband and I are spending hours digging into our family histories.  After inheriting 27 boxes of loose photos, albums, scrapbooks, newspaper clippings, letters, and assorted memorabilia, we are determined to put it in order and discover the untold stories, hoping to add to a long legacy left in our hands.

We start by searching for names and likenesses.  Two generations back-no problem.  We remember the Christmas celebrations, the Easter egg hunts and hilarious outfits of the sixties and seventies.  Recaptured vacations to Lake Tahoe and Yosemite amuse us.  We still visit the same houses and sit on the furniture, eat at the tables and sleep in the guest rooms.  Letters to our grandparents, thanking them, are sprinkled amongst the images.

Three generations back-yes, we knew some of them.  Distant memories from our childhoods stream through our minds like an old filmstrip in elementary school.  The cracks and blurriness only delete fragments, allowing the stories to flow in bits and pieces.  The old Model T and beach cottage.  The Oakland homestead, now a shopping center.  The softness of her lap, and the heartiness of his laugh.  The eyes of those who died before our birth, only remembered through those that they left.  Skiing, really?  Yosemite Falls looked the same then.  Letters from the war are tucked in between.

Digging deeper-four generations.  The path sometimes stops abruptly-a widow?  An immigration, or perhaps one shunned by their family?  The photos are black and white now, the images lacking much detail or expression.  The dress is formal, the postures upright.  The proud automobile owners pose with smiling eyes.  The doll house stands in front of the Christmas tree, ready to be treasured.  The newspaper clippings tell us of his college athletic statistics, proudly preserved by a mother.  Letters explaining the death of a loved one, far away, gather in a box.

On and on the stories go, some now limited to names and dates we eagerly find and place on our pedigree.  Bits of stories gleaned from documents and treasures fill in some gaps, and create new tales in branches otherwise unknown.  A sea captain, a wagon train, a sea voyage, a football escapade.  Immigrants from Canada, Scotland, Germany, England, and those who have been right here, in America, since the beginning, come to life. 

As we sort and search their eyes bore into my mind, driving me to open the next box, read the next letter, search for the next clue to our history.  What I’ve learned is that their eyes stare from the same places, although time separates us.  These people celebrated the same way, valued the same possessions, and wanted to share the same stories that we do.

What I’m still learning are their stories.  I smile as I think of all that I have yet to discover within these boxes, and open another.  Another set of eyes gazes at me.

Will we ever learn them all?

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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All by myself

Posted on June 28, 2011 by

I used power tools today.  Actually, it was A power tool, not more than one.  The project at hand was to hang an outdoor screen, which involved drilling into stucco.  It also involved going to the hardware store, buying the green screw thingies that go into the stucco, purchasing a special 3/4″ drill bit just for masonry, and then somehow figuring it all out by myself.  Oh-there was also caulk involved.  To protect the stucco.

Each year my husband and son spend a week together at Mt. Hood, Oregon at a ski racing camp.  Since I don’t race, I use the week to stay at home and finish all the projects I’ve put on my summer ‘to-do’ list.  I actually don’t mind the week alone (smile) and don’t even mind the projects.  I clean the carpets, organize the cupboards, go through the year’s worth of photos, read, sleep, watch movies, and hardly cook at all.  I also usually paint something, but that’s another post.  So today, it was the window shade.  After obtaining the good advice at Ace Hardware, I gathered my tools and headed up on the ladder.  My teenage daughter wasn’t too interested in helping, which disappointed me somewhat-what a great chance to see what mamawolfe could do all by herself!  I tried to get her to help with finding some tools, plugging in cords, but quickly realized I was on my own.  So up the ladder I went, drill in hand.  I knew it was crucial to get that first hole drilled correctly.  You can’t erase a stucco hole.  After careful calculations, a few pencil marks, and some concerted effort I had a hole.  I quickly squirted some caulking in, hammered the green screwy thing, and screwed my cup hook in tightly. It worked!  Next, more lining up.  My confidence strong, I measured, drilled, caulked, hammered and screwed again.  Up went the shade!  I actually did it all by myself!  Full of pride, I snapped a picture as evidence and descended.

Later, after the chores for the day were done, we decided to watch a DVD-The Social Network.  On the ‘big’ tv upstairs, the one with the large screen and surround sound. It’s girl’s week, after all.  We assembled dinner, and slipped the DVD in. Turned on the tv, all good.  But no movie.  No picture, no sound.  We couldn’t make it happen.  We tried texting my husband to find out what was wrong, but no response.  We just couldn’t get it to play.  Humbly, we returned downstairs to the more simple, familiar machine.  Small screen, no surround sound, but we would watch our movie.

What I learned today is that I can do some things I never thought I could.  I can successfully drill into the side of a stucco house.  I can use a caulk gun. I can hammer and screw and hang all by myself, even while standing on a ladder.  But I can’t operate a simple machine. I need my husband.  A friend commented on my Facebook (ironic, huh?) tonight, saying it seems like my family is never in the same place.  It made me think about the time we do spend apart, and how it gives me the chance to do things all by myself, and how I really do need my family around.  Not just to turn on the DVD, but to celebrate the simple things, and to help me learn.  I’m still learning how to do a lot, even at my age.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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