As the golden river of life gently flows on…
Family history is a living breathing life that is passed on one generation to another…often filled with colorful memories and traditions of family heritage.
Memorial Weekend is a time of gratitude for those who fought to protect our freedom and to protect our American life.
It’s a time of reflection…a time to honor those who went before us, who made our life better with hard work and sacrifice.
The last few years I began sorting boxes and memories of almost a hundred years stored in our home…each box took me back, like a historical time machine.
When I was 34, Mom gave me a big box of letters written by her parents when they were courting in the late 1890’s. Writing was the only way they had to stay in touch and that is what they did. Their letters and love notes are full of young love, sweet tender words that speak to your heart…priceless. I hope to put them into a book someday, as they tell of a time in America we could not imagine…and they share a sweet story of love.
Our house was built by my Norwegian Grandfather for his mother, my Great Grandmother Anne Marie, who was still living in Norway. The house is what I call a typical craftsman farm house built in 1920 and a mansion then, as it has about 3800′.
I have always loved living here…the old house to me is a peaceful sanctuary…it speaks deeply to my heart of family honor and love. I have been asked many times what is it like to live in the house you grew up in?
For one thing, after WB and I were married and living here, I knew exactly where to put things:) I can predict the weather and tell you what the sky means…I know the neighbors by their exhaust…and I cherish every memory that I carry from growing up here with my parents…and moving here with my husband WB…and we are yet making “our” memories:)
When we pulled the carpet up off the old wood floors, there was worn stenciling on the floors…the foot paths were very evident and I could see and feel where my ancestors walked!
I spent a few weeks on my hind end scooting along the floors, pulling the carpet nails out before we refinished it, with a box of kleenex and lots of tears. It was profound to know that your family, walked right there!
This is home to me…a small place on this vast earth where I walk in the footprints of those who went before me…this is home.
I give thanks to God for my family and especially my Great Grandmother, my Grandparents and my parents…my family and my heritage.
May you be blessed with good memories and good stuff this Memorial Day!
HRCG is over and out with Ellie and WB!