Combining historical fact with memory: creating the legends of our ancestors

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As a genealogist, I crave documentation that will tell me more about my family's history.  I felt elated when I first began researching; finding census records pulled me back into a time and place when my ancestors lived as I looked at their families, addressees, incomes, and other information giving me a glimpse of who they were.  And death certificates! You can tell so much about a person not only by the age in which they died, but their cause of death and the names of their parents (hopefully giving you that elusive maiden name of his or her mother to send you further along that branch.)

But researchers also encourage family historians to ask living relatives about their lives as to gather stories before they're lost to the wind.  And although I would give my right arm to ask any of my grandparents and father more about the lives they led, I've found a lot of stories can be misleading, inaccurate, and shall I dare say....untrue altogether. 

For instance, when my relatives told me about my great great grandfather, Brown Vines, every single relative insisted the man was a judge.  For years I believed this.  However, coming upon records and documents, I found no indication he was a judge at all, but a farmer.  The documents corrected an error sent down through oral history. 

But that was a factual error.  The stories and memories we gather from our relatives are incredibly valuable, but I have a hard time knowing what might be factual.  I have many family stories that I will never obtain solid proof for.  As a genealogist, my mind and heart yearn for the absolute factual story about my ancestors.  I want to know exactly how history happened.  But many stories have different versions and accounts from different people.  But does that make the stories less true, less valuable?   

Let me give you a silly example:

Growing up, my family went to church almost every Sunday.  My mother usually cooked a lovely Sunday breakfast (blueberry pancakes, which today are still one of my favorites), and we headed to the local United Brethren church for two hours of indoctrination and fellowship, which left us physically (and sometimes even spiritually) hungry as we came home. 

An excerpt from a conversation I had with my mother a few months ago:

Me:  I have this great memory of coming home from church and having tuna salad every Sunday.

Mom:  We didn't have tuna! It was egg salad.

Me:  It was not! I remember you making the sandwiches and us sitting at the table eating.  It was always tuna.

Mom:  It was egg salad.

Now, the example is a little ridiculous.  But you have two women who have a completely different memory of what happened almost every single Sunday.  And let me assure you if I called my mother this minute, she'd stick to her egg salad recollection, as would I.  But does that make either one of our memories "wrong"? 

My husband and I watched a brilliant documentary by Sarah Polley called The Stories We Tell.  I cannot recommend it more highly.  In the film, Polley goes on a quest to find more information about her mother who died in 1990.  Polley interviews family members and friends to discover more about her mother and her mother's life, but in the storytelling she finds discrepancies, contradictions, and elusive truths.  And without ruining any of it for you, Polley discovers that one person's story doesn't belong solely to him or her:  a person's life is their own facts and memories combined with the people they lived their lives with, and those people's perceptions and memories as well.  And years can change perception.  And truth.  But this is where the joy of combining genealogical records and storytelling comes together:  we can decorate the facts (the historical accuracies) with the truth (the stories and legends passed down from generation to generation.)  And all are valuable, and all are necessary. 

The writer A.M. Homes sums it up by saying:

Every family has a story that it tells itself, that it passes on to the children and grandchildren. The story grows over the years, mutates, some parts are sharpened, others dropped, and there is often debate about what really happened. But even with these different sides of the same story, there is still agreement that this is the family story.

So gather those stories.  Search for the truth without being so factual.  And a beautiful tapestry will unfold.

NSFW--Comedy Central's Drunk History starring Winona Ryder as Mary Dyer

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My husband loves comedy.  Stand-up, podcasts, just about anything on Comedy Central.  Some of it I enjoy (Bridget Everett, Marc Maron, Amy Schumer) but my favorite new comedic show on Comedy Central has to be Drunk History.  Comedy Central describes it as this:

Drunk History is a weekly, half-hour series where historical reenactments by A-list talent are presented by inebriated storytellers. Based on the award-winning and wildly popular web series, the show follows the drunken and often incoherent narration of our nation's history. Host Derek Waters, along with an ever-changing cast of great actors and comedians, travels from town to town across the country, presenting the rich history that every city in this land, both great and small, has to offer. Booze helps bring out the truth of our nation's history. It's just that sometimes that truth involves hitting on airport bar janitors or eating cheese fries at 4 a.m.

I've enjoyed all the episodes, but by far my favorite has to be the one where Winona Ryder plays Mary Dyer.  I had no idea who Mary Dyer even was before this show, but history tells us the Puritans executed her in 1660 for her Quaker beliefs.  Comedian Jen Kirkman tells the story of Mary Dyer and her martyrdom....after getting completely hammered.  Watch.  Enjoy.

New episodes coming in 2014.

The Pioneer Woman Cooks: A Year of Holidays Giveaway!

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And the wonderful winner is Paige Summers Ackerman!  Thank you so much to everyone who entered.  And a wonderful holiday season to all of you.

Almost everyone can agree that food brings family and friends together throughout the holidays.  During the season, many of us pull out recipes handed down over generations while also trying new dishes that may become new traditions.  I have loved The Pioneer Woman from the moment I opened her first cookbook, The Pioneer Woman Cooks:  Recipes from an Accidental Country Girl.  Ree Drummond has been able to capture the love of family and food and provides step by step photographs and instructions for each one of her recipes--you almost feel she's standing in your kitchen holding your hand and can't wait to see the results.

She has a new book.  And I'd like to give one away!

 

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Ree's new cookbook, The Pioneer Woman Cooks:  A Year of Holidays gives you meals and menus throughout the entire year, not only at Thanksgiving and Christmas, but holidays such as Cinco de Mayo, Mother's Day, and Father's Day.  All of her books are bright, easy to follow, and contain such a love of family and home.  Not only does she give you great ideas for Christmas cookies, she also gives you fabulous ideas for Christmas Eve dinner and Christmas brunch.  Ever since we tried her Cinnamon Rolls two years ago, they have made it on our table every Christmas morning, and I highly doubt they'll be leaving anytime soon.  Except her new book has a recipe for Caramel Apple Sweet Rolls,  so it may be a tough decision!

The recipe I decided to try is a thin bar cookie Ree calls spreads, a thin buttery cookie with a layer of melted chocolate on top.  I highly doubt you'll make this only once a year.  I will tell you that in her book, Ree uses butter instead of margarine (as I also did), and I added one-third cup of peanut butter before the final stirring and baking.  The recipe is easy, the results, amazing.

 

I love this book so much, and I want you to have one, too.  Here's what you do:  go to the comments section of the blog and leave a comment about your favorite dish for the holidays and why you can't live without it.  Leave your comment by noon on Friday, December 6, EST.  I'll randomly select a winner and announce the lucky person on Friday.  And you will get a marvelous cookbook you will use throughout the year.

 

 

 

 

 

My paternal grandparents: Ava Lee Collins and Frank Stafford

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Without a doubt, two of the most influential people on my life and childhood had to be my paternal grandparents, Ava Lee and Frank Stafford.  Almost every weekend, I would travel with my father and sister to Baltimore to visit with my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins.  I spent almost all my holidays there growing up, and when the Christmas and Thanksgiving roll around every year, I can't help but to think of them, the amazing meals, and the comfort and love I felt at their house.

Frank and Ava Lee early on in their relationship. I love this photo.

From what I know, my grandfather moved to Jonesborough, TN, with his father after the death of his mother, Hannah.  My grandmother, born in Johnson City, TN, in 1916, came from German and French immigrants (from what I've learned so far) who had lived in the US for about two hundred years, traveling through Virginia and settling in Tennessee.  She had two brothers, two sisters, and four brothers who died as babies.  Very active in church, her mother, Mary, played the organ, and her father, Henry, played the fiddle.  I believe my grandparents met at church, and when my grandfather came to pick her up for her first date, she hid behind the front door as her nerves took over.  They married at ages 19 and 22 in 1935 and first lived in Johnson City until moving to Norfolk, VA, in 1941.

I had no idea my grandparents lived in Norfolk until I came across the 1941 Norfolk City Directory.  An amazing resource, businesses created city directories to list all the people (and potential customers) in a city.  Directories generally contain maps, residents and addresses, advertising and other information about a city.  Businesses also used them to track down people who hadn't paid their bills and to extend credit.  The directories offer so much historical information about ancestors, cities, and the lives they lived.  And most of all, since the directories were published every year, you can discover more about the lives your ancestors lived between the 10-year census gap.

My grandparents, Frank and Ava, in the 1941 Norfolk City Directory.  The symbol (c) stands for "colored."

I learned from the directory that my grandfather worked at a rayon factory called Aberfoyle.  During the heart of World War II, Aberfoyle made parachute fabric for the army.  They lived at 1321 West 39th Street in Norfolk.  Now, another great thing about city directories is you can find out who their neighbors were and where exactly the street ran in the city.  At the end of the directory, I found the street entry for my grandparents.

My grandparents' residence in 1941 where they lived with three other families.  The bell indicates which households have a telephone.

According to this, my grandparents lived at the same address with three other families.  I looked all of these families up, and a couple of these families had kids.  So in 1941, my grandmother had two small children (my aunt and father) and gave birth to my uncle in June.  I cannot imagine the stress of their lives.  I have no idea how in the world my grandmother did it.

After 1941, my grandparents left for Baltimore where my grandfather worked on the shipyards as a welder.  Years later, my grandfather opened his own welding shop, and from what my father told me, created a business working on the radiators of foreign cars, something no one at that time was doing.  My grandmother worked at the social security administration for a number of years.

When they moved to Baltimore, they lived here (I believe on the left hand side.)  And here's a picture of their kids (my father, aunt, and uncle) sitting on the steps.

One thing (among many) about them has stayed with me:  my grandparents worked so, so hard.  Harder than anyone I've ever known.  They were incredible providers.  The severity of the Depression stayed with them throughout their lives, and they knew how to handle their money.  I honestly believe they never bought a thing on credit.  Their house was small; their cars were good but used.  They didn't live extravagantly.  And they never fell short on love.  My grandmother always had a place for you at her table with a meal ready.  A humble person, she had so much wealth in her heart.  When my mother first visited Baltimore with my father when they started dating, my grandmother pushed 20 dollars into his hand and whispered, "Take Nancy and buy her a pocketbook."  I loved the smell of her Emeraude, and I loved the smell of my grandfather's Beech-nut tobacco.  I loved how my grandfather took his coffee with evaporated milk, and I even miss how my grandmother would open the windows in the summertime while the window unit air conditioner went full blast.  Idiosyncrasies are the best part of people.  I miss them tremendously.

They went on to have eight grandchildren and spoiled all of us rotten.  Frank died in 1984 after suffering for several years with emphysema.  Ava Lee passed in 1993 from congestive heart failure.  I wish they would have seen me get married, I wish they would have seen my children.  But much of the person I am today is because of them.  Their example will hopefully travel through generations.