Will the legacy of my ancestors become a burden to my
descendants, or should I say, Do I really need to keep all this stuff?
Image: Family photos, group shots
The story of my life is a complicated one, I have traveled
the world [Image: Eastern Europe] yet still I always return home to the hills
of West Virginia. My heart and soul are
buried in this mountain soil [Image: WV scene].
I may not have been physically born here, but a part of me, has always
been here. [Image: John Hackers Cabin]
My family has always believed in telling the story of the
land and of the people. [Image:
Chronicles of Border Warfare, Lewis County History Book, interp photo of
me] While the family gift of writing the
story may be somewhat unique our penchant for “saving stuff” is not. Families across Appalachia have buildings
full of “important” family items.
Although our family stuff collection is not unique it is a
responsibility that I take seriously.
My great aunt passed away a number of years ago [Image: Aunt Reva]
She was preceeded in death by her husband, and had no children. There was a limited number of nieces and
nephews to whom her collection of lifes stuff could be passed. She had done all the right things late in
life, passing on momentos [Image: red
shoe], and disposing of the unnecessary physical things. It’s ironic to think that a woman who lived
to be 92 could have her life reduced to 12 boxes. [Image:
boxes]. Yet it is those 12 boxes
that pose the question, will the legacy of my ancestors be a burden to my
descendants?
I have spent many many hours sorting through the legacy of
my Great Aunt. She was a favorite of
mine and we spent many hours together when I was a small girl. One of my earliest memories is of her home in
Akron, Ohio [Image: house] and the giant
breezeway where the family gathered.
Sitting in the corner was a collection of family items, a great wheel, a
yarn winder, wool cards, and a framed photograph. To this day, I can clearly picture that room
and the placement of those items. Perhaps
it is poetic that those very items have been a driving force in my life and because
of their influence upon me I am challenged to make a connection between my
children and grandchildren for the stuff of a woman they have never met.
The first box I opened contained love letters from my uncle
to my aunt during WWII. He wasn’t a
romantic, but he was handsome. [Image: Uncle
B in uniform] hundreds of photos of Aunt Reva [Image: aunt
reva], and baggies of valentines. There
were more than 150 valentines in all.
Most are of the school variety “will you be mine?” with a name scrawled
in pencil on the back. Some have a last
name, but most carry no connection to the present. However, there are the embossed valentines
from my Great Great Grandmother to my aunts and grandmother. There are the valentines signed with “love
and affection” by a boy whom I knew as a man, but I never knew he cared so
deeply for my aunt. He was gone before I
came into possession of the box so I have no way to ask him about her. I used this box to complete a project for
school. I’ve sorted the valentines and [Image: valentine collection] read the letters.
The second box is a treasure and it is my challenge. It contains the story of my great grandfather,
Nick P. Winemiller. Grandpa Nick died
two years before I was born. But thanks
to my aunt I have many photos of him and his family, [Image: Nick] and his courtship with my namesake.
I must digress and tell you of the man who came into my life
in 1998. Daril Stalnaker married my
mother in Oct of 1998. Daril was a
wonderful man, but he was 24 years older than my mother. We were all very blessed to have him as a
part of our life until the age of 91.
Prior to his death he spent many hours with my daughter. He was there when she announced she was
pregnant with her first child, and it was Daril who proclaimed that it would be
a boy and she should call him Nicholas, after her grandpa. Daril shared some wonderful stories of my
great grandfather, whom he knew as a child and a young man.
My grandson Nicky is now 4 years old. He will never remember the man who named him
or hear the stories of his namesake [Image:
Grandpa Nick] from someone who knew him.
Someday though, when my time has come and Nicky has the opportunity to
move the great wheel that has been sitting in my living room [Image: my living room] and then the boxes. I hope that he will take the time to stop and
look and wonder who these people were and question how they influenced
him.
I will spend my lifetime telling my children and
grandchildren the stories of their ancestors and share with them the photos,
the letters, the school books, and the valentines. While I can never hope to create a first
person connection to the treasures that have been entrusted to me I can strive
to provide a connection to their importance to me and hopefully to provide a
more permanent emotional tie.
I sometimes wonder if my grandson Nicky will someday sit and
open a box and tell the story of the items it contains to his
grandchildren. I imagine the
conversation would be something like this…..
“Reva dear let me tell you about a women that your Nana (that’s ME,
Jane) knew and loved. It’s a long story
but we have some really old things to make the story fun. See this book, its dated 1882. Be careful, its very very old. This book belonged to your 5th
great grandfather, Nick P. Winemiller.
Yes, dear, that’s my name too. Would
you like to see a photograph of your other Grandpa Nick?”
I know there will be many times over the years when I will
struggle with the physical stuff of my ancestors and for various reasons I will
part with items [Image: film, tattered clothing box] but I hope that
through the telling of the story to my children and grandchildren I will build
a love and connection for the people, places, and things of long ago. That someday my little Nicky will think to
himself, “I’m glad NaNa was crazy enough to keep all this stuff, its’ really
cool.”
