I have to admit ... I've never wanted to live forever. Nor do I yet ... but I do wish I had a crystal ball so I could see my grandchildren's futures. I know that their parents will instill in them a solid core. And maybe I'll be able to share some sage advice ... but likely, my gifts to them will be limited to such things as: a decent pair of legs to Sabrina and widow's peaks galore to Rory.
Do you know about NPR's National Story project? The National Story project captured the essence of America in some poignant broadcasts. It morphed into something called "StoryCorps" ... and while none of my stories are as profound or as interesting as what are featured on NPR, one line has resonated with me: everyone ... everyone ... has a story to tell.
Many in my family are excellent storytellers ... my mom, Suzanne, Kristen, and Nathan to name but a few. Other members of my family have chosen the written word to tell their story ... my dad's dad, my dad's sister Mamie, and my daughter Becky to name but a few more. Heck, we even have a diary of one of the great-great-great uncles who fought in the Civil War (for the North) and was a prisoner of war at Andersonville, Georgia. My words, written or spoken, can't hold a candle to any of these loved ones. But again ... we all have a story to tell.
So the rest of this story is about my maternal grandmother ... Ellen Sophie ... many in my family bear some bit of her name. For those young'uns in our family, I hope to share with them how wise and wonderful she was. My grandmother was a simple and unassuming woman ... who had to leave school before the 8th grade because HER mother was killed in a summer thunderstorm. A bolt of lightning killed my great-grandmother Ingri ... when she was in her early 30's. She left behind several children with my grandmother, at 11, one of the oldest. So Grandma Ellen learned responsibility early. And, next to cleanliness and godliness ... being responsible for one's own actions was something she taught very well.
She and my grandfather usually called me Tina. When I traveled to Denmark, I realized that my name Christine was pronounced with an "a" sound at the end of it. I loved to work alongside my grandmother ... helping with the dishes if she was baking. Learning her tricks-of-the-trade as she baked her way into my heart. Did she impart any bits of wisdom about how to make my way through life? Nope, not one bit. She was born in 1900 and by the time she was in her 60's ... the world had experienced two world wars, one Korean War, and one Vietnam Conflict. Because she was unassuming, I would guess that she didn't think she could prepare me for the world ahead. But indeed, she did. She taught me about working hard, working with those who are less fortunate, and finding some way, however small, to contribute. My grandmother was one of the "church ladies" who worked tirelessly for celebrations and/or sorrows in her church: First Lutheran Church, Sioux Falls, SD. She didn't look for anyone to pat her on the back ... she just rolled up her sleeves and ... well, Nike's "just do it" must have originated with her.
My mom learned all of her mom's lessons well ... but more on Ione, the tireless octogenarian, later ... for now, hats off to Grandma Ellen ... and if you ask nicely, I might share her banana bread recipe!
PS. My friend Gail said that she liked the music I chose for my blog. I hadn't even realized that I was doing that ... but yes, I do love music. So for my grandmother ... I choose ... another songbird who gives us ... "The Wind Beneath My Wings" ... because my grandmother was definitely that.
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