The Quilt

The Quilt

            Recently I received a Facebook post that resonated with me.  I had posted a picture of a quilt that my Grandmother had made and I received a question from a young cousin about it.  This young woman told me that she had a quilt just like it and, although she knew that her grandmother had given it to her, she had no idea who had made it.  She did not know it had been quilted by her great-grandmother and that nearly every child in our family had one made by her.  I responded with words that I hoped would paint a picture of the wonderful woman who created this work of art.   

         Several years prior to that I had heard from another young cousin who told me that she had never seen a picture of her great-grandfather, my grandfather.  She had no information about him and was oblivious of his personality and life.  I was saddened and tried hard to paint a picture of this rather extraordinary man. 

         When Alex Haley published Roots I was spurred to explore my own ancestors and set out on that mission.  These were pre-internet days and all my investigation were done through the mail, personal interviews, the library and some very helpful LDS people at the Mormon library here in El Paso.  I gathered stories, traced lineages and began to put it all together.  This was in 1977.  I visited with all my still-living elder relatives, pored over old photographs and kept the mailman busy.  I was made aware of many interesting and intriguing anecdotes and was merciless in my search. 

         When the technology of the Internet became available that opened a flood of doors and it was like an avalanche of information.  I was strictly an armchair genealogist and did not go into the detail like the professionals.  I not only included my own family, but Diane’s family as well.  I was doing this for my girls. 

         As things began to take shape I became a part of the world of those who came before us.  I could feel the time of the depression, the civil war period, early settlers in America and my European ancestors.  I could tell you the names of ancestors who lived in these different eras and feel the thread that connected me to them.  It was awesome.  These were real people, not perfect or heroic, but people who were responsible for my even being here.  I was humbled. 

         I was excited to share this information with our family.  Most were mildly interested but did not share the enthusiasm I was feeling.   I eventually accepted that.  However, I am still determined that my own children will know their story. 

         For several years I was the go-to relative in the family when their child had to do a paper on their family history.  That was always fun because I hoped it would spark that child to be interested in their own personal history.  I was also the guy who would be called to determine a relationship or place of birth.   There was a flurry of that sort of activity, but it soon abated.  I was relegated to the role of the old cousin who told long stories about people they did not know.  Sigh.

         The saddest thing that can happen is to be forgotten.  We are unique and deserve to be remembered.  In order for that to happen it is necessary to have an old dude like me to keep the stories going.  It only takes one generation to not remember for family histories to disappear.  

         Then….a miracle.  “I have a quilt just like that and don’t know who made it.”  “I have never seen a picture or know anything about my great-grandfather.”  “Dad, does your family have family reunions?”

         The gauntlet has been thrown.  It has become our responsibility to keep the family flow going.  Talk to your children and grandchildren.  Erase estrangements and draw closer.  Insert yourself into your children’s lives and keep the river flowing.