I love this so much!!! One I keep thinking about: I was born in Bangladesh and lived there till I was almost 11. One night, when we lived in a more rural part of the country, the electricity went out (as it often did). My sister and I had a set of wooden blocks that we loved to play with, but we hadn’t picked them up before we went to bed. My dad was away from home that night, and my mom went into our room with a lantern to pick up the blocks, but something about the way the little flame cast long, looming shadows on the wall made her stop. It just felt like too much, and the blocks weren’t going anywhere. The next morning, when the sunlight was streaming through the windows, she went back to pick up the blocks. The very first one she lifted had a baby cobra coiled under it. I keep thinking about that, and “mother instinct” or “gut feelings” that protect us if we pay attention to them.
Just gasped and startled a few nearby parents in the overcrowded children’s museum I’m currently sitting in. Thank you for the brief moment of escape!!
I’m not a great researcher but I’ve started to try to dig up the history of my maternal grandfather. A friend who’s been learning genealogy helped get me started with copies of the census from every 10 years since his birth to track his occupations & locations. My mom would tell me stories about him disappearing regularly when she was a child. (She was born in 1916 in a home for unwed mothers in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma- my nana was from Milwaukee, WI & it was common to send these women out of sight; upon her return with my mom they married & had my moms sister 2 years later). She eventually figured out he was a con man who was on the run regularly.....in the 1920’s & 30’s. He’d come home with lots of cash & say he got a new job & little Dorothy would ask where, what, when....he was not happy with her! Every time he would return she would get frustrated that her mom would happily take him back. As she got older she found he had aliases. No one knows where he ended up, last seen by the family in 1935. I’m piecing together stories she told me years ago & the information I can glean from public records. This is a winter project since landscaping keeps me too busy April-November. I look forward to sleuthing more ......hopefully on a snow day. Last year we had no snow days, which is unacceptable! That’s when I love to hunker down on projects indoors. With no elders left it’s just me poking around.
I love listening to stories and especially stories of family. My mother and my aunt have both passed. However, their love and honor of their family is still present.
Growing up l lived in a railroad town. Frequently I would be found on the front porch swings of the retired engineers wrapped in story and adventure.
My home for stories now is a monthly gathering of quilters. The stories and the stitches are forever flowing.
A favorite family legend for me is about how my grandmother’s brother’s diminutive wife physically restrained him from going outside to sell illegal uncut diamonds to some buyers because she suspected they were undercover police. She was right!
My maternal grandfather was from Lithuania, or Russia, depending on who was in charge that year; and my parents were from upstate NY, outside of Binghamton, so I relate to some of your stories. Favorite family story: After I was born, my father went into the hospital room to see my mother. She told him, "it's a boy." Dad said, "the doctor told me it's a girl," Mom replied, "that's what I said." Thus began my life ❤️
Oh I love this story. And I love that you are choosing to protect it. My favorite family story is about my paternal grandfather who, instead of heading to the life boats, went to the kitchen to get ice cream and sat on the deck eating it while his boat, the Lexington, sank.
I have no legend, but I loved reading about yours. It is a gift to you, another story teller, to pass on. Some of the best storytellers have passed on to we voracious readers great novels. Thank you for sharing your family legend.
My Great Aunt Babe’s mother apparently used to sing in Vaudeville back in the day. Man, I hope it is true:) My husband and I went to visit her in CT with my dad maybe 10-12 years ago. She made us cabbage soup:) We then visited my dad’s step sister who was in the hospital with Babe and she sang Irish songs on the piano. It almost doesn’t seem real this story ❤️ Thanks for your continued brilliance Holly.
We left it unminded:) it reminds me other story of my husband’s family. His grandfather collected jugs. One of the jugs looked really old and had this weird mark on it. It was said that it was Japanese and was near Hiroshima. Years later my mother-in-law took it to Antique Road Show with her sister. They examined it carefully and disclosed that is was a great find.... from Pier One Imports 😂
I love this so much!!! One I keep thinking about: I was born in Bangladesh and lived there till I was almost 11. One night, when we lived in a more rural part of the country, the electricity went out (as it often did). My sister and I had a set of wooden blocks that we loved to play with, but we hadn’t picked them up before we went to bed. My dad was away from home that night, and my mom went into our room with a lantern to pick up the blocks, but something about the way the little flame cast long, looming shadows on the wall made her stop. It just felt like too much, and the blocks weren’t going anywhere. The next morning, when the sunlight was streaming through the windows, she went back to pick up the blocks. The very first one she lifted had a baby cobra coiled under it. I keep thinking about that, and “mother instinct” or “gut feelings” that protect us if we pay attention to them.
Just gasped and startled a few nearby parents in the overcrowded children’s museum I’m currently sitting in. Thank you for the brief moment of escape!!
Lol! Sorry!! Not coincidentally, my first pets were mongooses. No more baby cobras in the house. Whew.
I’m not a great researcher but I’ve started to try to dig up the history of my maternal grandfather. A friend who’s been learning genealogy helped get me started with copies of the census from every 10 years since his birth to track his occupations & locations. My mom would tell me stories about him disappearing regularly when she was a child. (She was born in 1916 in a home for unwed mothers in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma- my nana was from Milwaukee, WI & it was common to send these women out of sight; upon her return with my mom they married & had my moms sister 2 years later). She eventually figured out he was a con man who was on the run regularly.....in the 1920’s & 30’s. He’d come home with lots of cash & say he got a new job & little Dorothy would ask where, what, when....he was not happy with her! Every time he would return she would get frustrated that her mom would happily take him back. As she got older she found he had aliases. No one knows where he ended up, last seen by the family in 1935. I’m piecing together stories she told me years ago & the information I can glean from public records. This is a winter project since landscaping keeps me too busy April-November. I look forward to sleuthing more ......hopefully on a snow day. Last year we had no snow days, which is unacceptable! That’s when I love to hunker down on projects indoors. With no elders left it’s just me poking around.
It sounds like you have some wonderfully juicy stories as jumping off points. Hoping for lots of snow days for you this winter. ❤️
“We stack stories about who we were, who we are, and who we will be, layer upon layer, to try and understand or make ourselves understood.”
Like...... cakes!
Ha! Yes!
I love this!!!
I love listening to stories and especially stories of family. My mother and my aunt have both passed. However, their love and honor of their family is still present.
Growing up l lived in a railroad town. Frequently I would be found on the front porch swings of the retired engineers wrapped in story and adventure.
My home for stories now is a monthly gathering of quilters. The stories and the stitches are forever flowing.
A favorite family legend for me is about how my grandmother’s brother’s diminutive wife physically restrained him from going outside to sell illegal uncut diamonds to some buyers because she suspected they were undercover police. She was right!
She KNEW.
My maternal grandfather was from Lithuania, or Russia, depending on who was in charge that year; and my parents were from upstate NY, outside of Binghamton, so I relate to some of your stories. Favorite family story: After I was born, my father went into the hospital room to see my mother. She told him, "it's a boy." Dad said, "the doctor told me it's a girl," Mom replied, "that's what I said." Thus began my life ❤️
Ha! This is a delightful contrast to the “gender reveal parties” of today.
Oh I love this story. And I love that you are choosing to protect it. My favorite family story is about my paternal grandfather who, instead of heading to the life boats, went to the kitchen to get ice cream and sat on the deck eating it while his boat, the Lexington, sank.
Fortify yourself by whatever means necessary...
Haha. Yes.
So beautiful. More about the Lithuanian grandmother, please ❤️❤️
I enjoyed this so much. I definitely got emotional at the “he always liked it best when...”
Thank you again, Holly. I love the wholesome world you allow me to build (and escape into!!) within your words and stories shared.
Thank you for this beautiful compliment. ❤️
Great story, told so well. The story of your Great Grandmother to be unearthed...I'll read it, for sure!
I have no legend, but I loved reading about yours. It is a gift to you, another story teller, to pass on. Some of the best storytellers have passed on to we voracious readers great novels. Thank you for sharing your family legend.
My Great Aunt Babe’s mother apparently used to sing in Vaudeville back in the day. Man, I hope it is true:) My husband and I went to visit her in CT with my dad maybe 10-12 years ago. She made us cabbage soup:) We then visited my dad’s step sister who was in the hospital with Babe and she sang Irish songs on the piano. It almost doesn’t seem real this story ❤️ Thanks for your continued brilliance Holly.
Ah, so good! Did you ask her about it, or did you err on the side of keeping the story alive, just in case?
We left it unminded:) it reminds me other story of my husband’s family. His grandfather collected jugs. One of the jugs looked really old and had this weird mark on it. It was said that it was Japanese and was near Hiroshima. Years later my mother-in-law took it to Antique Road Show with her sister. They examined it carefully and disclosed that is was a great find.... from Pier One Imports 😂