I've asked all of you to come up with a family story, so I'll share one of my own. You can post your stories as a response to this post.
Today I found a photo of my great-grandfather's burial site at www.findagrave.com, which I located after a short Google search. I knew he died as a young man, but I wasn't sure of the exact years of his birth and death.
Alonzo Winfield Allen was a stunt man in the silent movies. He died in 1918 at age 29 or 30, when my grandmother, Luella Allen Lindquist, was about five years old. The only thing she knew about his passing was that he had died of kidney failure. That was the story I heard as a kid, and, of course, I felt sad for my grandma that she didn't have her father around when she was growing up.
It wasn't until somewhat recently that my mom learned that the kidney failure was the result of an accident that occurred during one of his stunts. The injury he received, although not fatal at the time it happened, damaged his kidneys. I don't know how the accident happened.
My mom learned this only because a relative on the Allen side of the family was doing genealogical research and had contacted my mom. Apparently, the marriage between my great-grandmother, Katherine Matilda Coorough, and my great-grandfather was a scandal, and it's possible they may have eloped. "Tillie" and Alonzo were married in 1911, and it is possible that Tillie's family was scandalized because Alonzo was in show business. At that time, people in show business were considered to be low class. In fact, a very brief Google search on stunt work in silent films led me to an article called "Stunt Man," where I learned that many stunts at that time were done by people who were desperate for work.
The film industry provided little to no safety precautions. Many stuntmen--and women--died doing stunts. Now I'm more curious about the history of silent films, which might help me understand more about Alonzo in an indirect way. Since stuntmen rarely got credit for their work, chances are I could watch a silent film featuring Alonzo Allen, but I would have no way to prove it. I have never seen a photo of him.
The weekend before my little brother Steven's 8th birthday, he was racing his motorcycle (a family sport) in North Webster, Indiana. My mother and I had stayed home because I needed picked up from church camp that weekend, so we didn't see the crash that took him off his bike for good. Apparently it was terrible, the other racers crashed into him, creating a pile-up of bikes and humans. He was in a lot of pain, so he and our father came home that night, and the next day went to the doctor's office. It was a little swollen, but we decided not to get an x-ray, and wait and see. The doctor agreed that it was probably fine and that he would recover in about a week. On Sunday, the my brother, mom, and I went to our grandmother's house to help her pack for a move, and there was Steven, hobbling around helping. Although he struggled, he tried his best to carry our grandmother's furniture and boxes. By Monday evening, Steven hadn't improved at all, so back he went to the doctor. This time, he did get an x-ray, and it turned out he'd had a spiral break the whole time! We felt awful that we'd downplayed it and had him walking on it all weekend, especially to have him move our grandmother and keep up with the other kids his age.
ReplyDeleteNow whenever a parent tells us about how they'd accidentally done something that resulted in pain for their child, we tell this story. Sometimes even good attentive parents end up doing the wrong thing. Good intentions don't always mean doing the right thing.
My family got a puppy when i was younger and my dad named him Dave. When we lived in town we had to always keep him in our yard locked up because he chased cars, and nothing stopped him. He loved it. Everyone knew our dog, and only few hated him... mainly just the mailman although for obvious reasons. Even when we moved out to the country he would chase cars. But out in the country we didn't have a fence so he was able to run anywhere. While we did live in town he was hit a couple times but nothing too major which was good for everyone, but unfortunately he never learned a lesson. So once we moved to the country it was open season on that dog. He was hit by a mail man twice, run over my both my Aunt, my mom AND a snow plow... none of which were on purpose of course. Each time the dog stole away with his life. There were a couple surgeries along the way. One of which left his shoulder severed and when the bone grew back, it made it so his leg was shorter than the rest so that he had a major limp. By this time he was our "old man" dog and he had a reputation. We still loved him even though his bark sounded mangled and his appearance was crude, that dog was a legend. We used to say he got ahold of one of our cats and received the cats "nine lives." But every dog has his day. He had his last run last semester when he was hit by the mail man yet again. Something tells me he was happy in his last few moments.
ReplyDeleteI tell this story if i am every talking with anyone about dogs or dogs getting hit... stupid animals, etc. My family's version wouldn't vary too much except for maybe a difference in emphasis of detail. If anyone takes anything away i suppose it would be to not let your dog make a habit out of car chasing.
This story is humorous to my family now because of the spirit of Dave. He really was a great dog and he had a sort of personality between his charming underbite and vigor for life.
When I was younger, my favorite toy was a raggedy old doll that I received shortly after my house burned down. Now as I look back I am able to more fully appreciate what the community did for my family.
ReplyDeleteMy house burned on the 27th on November, 1995. My mom had just bragged to the extended family about having all her Christmas shopping dome. I was three and my brother was only one. Jacob and I were at my Grandma’s house, My parents were in Louisville where my Dad was filing for unemployment. My parents had just finished, when they received a call from my Uncle Rod. They rushed back to find a large gathering of family, friends and three fire companies. The house was a pile of ashes, the only thing left was one of the outside walls. Due to the car in our driveway they firemen presumed that we had all perished in the fire, which explained the crowd of distraught onlookers.
The area churches and other organizations showered my family with many blessings, we were given clothes, shoes, toys and anything needed to create a home. I received a doll from a third grader in Angola,IN, that toy became my shadow. They also gave my parents presents to replace the ones that had burned.
As Christmas rapidly approached the donations kept rolling in. On Christmas eve my Dad was able to fill the back of a pickup truck with gifts for another family who had lost there house the week after we did.
Realizing how much the community cared about us really opened my eyes. I would like to look into a similar organization.
One weekend this past year my sister, dad, grandpa and I decided to take a trip to where our family is from (on my dad's side) down in KY. We went down to Jackson, KY where my great great grandpa was burried. We found a historian-like guy who knew basically everything about the town and the people who had lived there. He said he knew where my great great grandpa was burried and showed us a map of how to get there. It would have been cook to be able to see the grave, but it was an old cemetary that no one took care of anymore. This meant to get to it we had to hike up a giant hill then head down a different hill then some how get across a mess of overgrown weeds and dead trees and brush to get to it. My dad decided we would have to go back down another time and bring some equipment to clear it out and see what we could find. We went back to the historian to see what else he knew about our family. He told us a boat load of information that was very interesting, but one thing stood out in my mind. The sheriff in the town was not exactly the nicest guy in the town back when my great great grandpa was around. Well long story short, my great great grandpa decided it was time for a new sheriff so one day he shot the sheriff.
ReplyDeleteIt's a running joke in our family now that we know "Who shot the sheriff". It was so interesting meeting someone who knew so much about my family's past. You think that most of the time historians only care about people who made their mark on a major point in history. It was awesome knowing that someone like the historian cared about a small town like Jackson and it's inhabitants.
When I was younger I was getting ready to make my communion when mom started to talk to me about the other sacraments you make in life. She then began to specifically discuss making my confirmation. Confirmation is basically when you receive the Holy Spirit and become an adult member of the Catholic church. You are required to pick a sponsor that will help you make good choices and guide you throughout life. However, I was unaware of this at the time and when my mom asked who I wanted my sponsor to be I replied by saying I was going to ask Dairy Queen to sponsor me like they did with my softball team. I had assumed it was the same as a sports team sponsor, you get a t- shirt and advertise for a company; clearly, I was wrong.
ReplyDeleteEver since this occurred I have yet to hear the end of it. My family constantly talks about this story and everybody I meet knows this story, thanks to my sister. This story perfectly describes how my family is; we are rarely serious and learn to take jokes at a young age. We genuinely believe that the most important thing in life is being able to laugh even when your laughing at yourself.
My aunt occasionally watched us while we were children. Usually it was my brother, Zack, my sister, Elise, and I. One day when I was about eight, my sister and I were riding in a wagon that my brother was hauling with a tractor. My sister was standing and my brother kept telling her to sit down before she falls out. Sure enough, she did not listen. While he was driving he hit a bump and Elise went over the front of the trailer and hit her face on the edge of the hitch leaving a bloody scratch that required stitches. My aunt, of course, feels awful that something happened while she was in charge.
ReplyDeleteAbout two years later my aunt was babysitting yet again. This time we were at a barn taking care of horses. There was a dog in a stall barking like crazy. With me being a ten year old boy, I was curious to check out the ruckus. The dog was barking furiously and my aunt noticed. She was cleaning a horse’s hoof, so she just told me to get away from the dog. Right when she said that the dog burst through the wooden plank and sank his teeth into my nose. Long story short, I had a visit to the hospital which required numerous stitches.
So now, anytime my aunt is around we always tell Zack that he needs to be cautious because he’s next. Fortunately, it’s been nine years since our last incident and nothing has happened to Zack yet... Yet!
I grew up in a house with four sisters. Me being the only son, not to mention the youngest, I was exposed to a lot of estrogen fueled battles. There would be constant arguing and bickering between them. My mom, who had many siblings herself, would always tell us stories from her childhood about how she would fight with her brothers and sisters, and how my grandma held zero tolerance for it.
ReplyDeleteMy mom is the second youngest of her family. Her and her younger sister used to constantly go at it. When they were younger they used to annoy my grandma all the time with it. One day they were arguing while my grandma was busy cooking. She warned them to stop and go sit down and they continued to fight. My grandma got so annoyed she took the pork chitling she was cleaning, and smacked them both across the face with it. I've personally never had chitlins, but I have smelled them, and they smell horrendous. In case you have no clue what they are...well they're pig intestines. The stink was so bad, they could smell it on their faces long after they washed them. :D
On my fifth birthday, my family all went down to Florida to visit my aunt and grandparents (I have a February birthday, so the warmth was welcome). It was the day of my birthday and earlier in the day, we had gone swimming at the pool but I realized that we had left our pool toys at the pool. Now, since I had just turned the mighty age of five, I decided I would be a big girl and go retrieve our pool toys. I took my little sister into the bedroom that had a side door and turned to her, very serious. "Now Lauren, I have to go get the pool toys from the pool, but don't tell mom, okay?" She nodded as gravely as any three-year-old could and I slipped out the door.
ReplyDeleteHowever, once my sister saw me disappear around the corner and she could no longer see me, she started sobbing. My mom heard her and rushed into the room, asking what was wrong.
"Chr-Christine went to th-the poooool!"
So much for sister honor code.
My mom told me that she felt her heart skip a beat and immediately rushed out of the house, bathrobe and all, headed for the pool that was three or four blocks away.
So here I am, proudly toting my treasures out of the gate, when I see an enraged mom-creature storming down the street towards me. She grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me home, not saying a word. When she finally got me home, she set me down on the bed, not saying anything for about five minutes. When she finally found her voice, she asked, "Christine, WHAT possessed you to walk all the way down to the pool by yourself without first telling me or your father?!"
And I answered, "But mom...I'm five."
Her face screwed up and she seemed to be holding back something. She left the room then, to go talk to my dad presumably, and came back in five minutes later to tell me I was grounded. She told me later that if she hadn't left at that very moment, she would have laughed so hard that tears would have come out of her eyes.
My mom loves telling me this story whenever we feel like having a good laugh, but she also tells it to me when I feel down in the dumps to show that no matter what, I have always marched to the beat of my own drum. Even at the tender age of five.
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ReplyDeleteThis is a story about my Dad. He’s never actually told this story, only confirmed. My Mom is the one who tells it, and this is a very important part of understanding my dad. He’s humble about things.
ReplyDeleteMy dad worked in a factory that made egg cartons. He was 21 and was just starting our family. He was assigning the julien dates to the eggs as normal and his boss pulled him aside. His boss told him to put the wrong date on the eggs saying that they were fresher than they actually were. My dad refused and a week later he was fired for “financial reasons.” The company went under 6 months later of health liabilities. My dad never regretted it. He was worried about getting another job, but shortly after he found a steady job as a sign painter.
I think the thing we learned was, do the right thing no matter what, and things will turn out okay. When we see the respect that the entire family has for making the right decision for the right reason, it motivated us to want respect and made us value good decisions.
People are often surprised to find out that I have know , and had relationships with most of my great-grandparents. As a child, I sometimes went to visit my dad's mother's mother. I was only nine or so when she died, but I remember being amazed at how independent she was in her late nineties. Living alone at such an age is an accomplishment enough, but she also had a small farm in her backyard that she tended to, cooked for herself, and continued to play the guitar, a lifelong hobby and passion of hers, until the day she died.
ReplyDeleteMy memories of my mother's father's mother are very similar. I never knew my great-grandfather on that side, as he died shortly after I was born, but she too lived alone for years after he passed away. On Christmases as a child my family would often travel to Jasper, Indiana to visit their house. My brother and I spent hours looking through old photos and things of his from WWI, or making things in the wood shop he had in the basement. My great-grandmother would often flip through the old photo albums with us and tell about each photo.
The great-grandparents I knew the closest, however, were my mother's mother's parents. My great-grandfather would tell me stories about himself as a teenager and young adult. He was a musician, and would make his money by playing at clubs and bars with different bands over the years. My great-grandmother was a singer. She sang for a band that he was also in, and the rest was history. Looking back, it's almost unbelievable how vivacious and full of life they both were, being in their late nineties. She loved to garden, and he continued to play the electric guitar, a Fender Telecaster, throughout his whole life. He even bought a brand-new computer at the age of 97, and taught himself everything about Photoshop CS4. Ha!
My great-grandmother died 2 or 3 years ago of pneumonia. Nobody really expected it, as she was so full of life even weeks before she passed. My whole family went to their house after the funeral and visited with my great-grandfather. He was sullen, but had not given up hope, as the death of a spouse sometimes does to one. It hit him hard, but he continued on, doing the things that made him happy, and squeezing every last drop of fulfillment out of life until he passed away last year.
One of my favorite family memories was when we went to Washington D.C. one year for Christmas. We have many aunts, uncles, and cousins who live out there so we were anxious to go and see them. Typically, they would be the ones who come out and see us but this year we were trying something new. At first we did not know how we felt about not being home for Christmas but at the same time we were excited to see our family. We arrived there early Christmas eve morning and were bombarded with activities from the beginning.
ReplyDeleteFirst my dad and I had to go to the mall to get last minute gifts. Even though I was young at the time, I remember vividly how packed and crowded the mall was on this day. I did not think going to the mall would take long but we ended up being there for over five hours. While my dad and I were at the mall my mom, sister, and aunts all stayed home and made dinner for Christmas day. Later that day we went to Christmas eve mass with our entire family.
Christmas day was also a good experience when we got to open up our gifts and spend time together as a family. Since that year we have always gone to Washington D.C. for Christmas and still do to this day.
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ReplyDeleteSeveral times, mainly during my early teens, I was told of a story about my great-grandfather and grandmother on my mother’s side, and the mansion they lived in. Though the story of their fortunes, misfortunes, and the large mansion they owned was told to me in bits and pieces, each telling revealing more details, this piece of family history still stands out in my mind as an intriguing one.
ReplyDeleteRobert and Minnie LeBoutillier were well-to-do for their time, living near Philadelphia for most of their lives but traveling overseas prior to living lavishly in the mansion they had built sometime between the turn of the nineteenth century and the years leading up to the Great Depression. My great-grandmother had grown up in Paris, France, and with the help of her wealthy father was given the opportunity to travel all around Europe by the time she was in her early twenties. Almost all of the money my great grandparents had was my great-grandmother's, and hers was the money used to pay for the mansion, which is the focal point of this story.
From what has been described to me, it was beautiful. A glorious three story mansion with a fireplace in every room, a carriage house, a long drive, and a Japanese style garden in the back, all of which were uncommon for the time. My great-grandparents had gotten married and decided to build an almost fantastical sounding house that would outshine many if not all of those surrounding it. With my great-grandmother’s European upbringing, she brought many elements of that into the house, and even travelled back to Europe with my great-grandfather to purchase and shop for items during the year the house was being built. Many non-native trees and other furnishings were brought back to adorn the house which even from the outside had a European style.
Surely there must have been a "but" though, yes? Not everything could have been smooth sailing. This is correct on many levels. As wonderful and beautiful it must have been to have a fireplace in every room of a three story mansion, this was due to lack of central heating. Unfortunately, the reality was that a series of fireplaces could not heat up a whole house, even room by room, on the coldest of winter nights. Therefore the heating bill for such a house was through the roof. Now my great-grandmother did still have a portion of her fortune, but there had to have been some source of income and that was only through Robert, who owned a department store in Philly, which was lost during the Great Depression. He then made the decision to move from what was called “ The Big House” and downsize to another smaller house down the street a ways. As the house was barely kept up anyways, this move might not have been so surprising.
Now here comes the sad part: Once the house was abandoned, with many of the furnishings still in it, surprisingly, neighborhood kids broke in to look and mess around in the empty beauty, lighting and dropping matches, and setting the whole place ablaze. Thought the fire department was called, much of the house’s interior had been destroyed. What was once beautiful was now blackened and washed away.
The family members, namely my dad and grandfather, who have told me the bits and pieces of this, have not ever mentioned what happened following the fire, or following Robert and Minnie and their kids moving out of “The Big House.” One of these days I’d like to talk to my great-aunts that are still living and find out exactly what happened. I’d love to see the pictures. Surely, it was a magnificent structure. I have to wonder what would possess a man to up and leave a house without taking things with him. What was the real story? Maybe someday, with enough research and interviewing, I’ll find out.
When I was about 5 years old and my sister was around 6, we discovered there were some words in the english language that our parents deemed "bad words". One time, when we were sitting around the dinner table, one of these "bad words" must've slipped right out of my mouth. My sister instantly thought it was hilarious and started to laugh. My mother told me about this word and warned me to never say a word like that again or else she would wash my mouth out with soap. Sure enough, either that same day or a few days after, that exact same word made its way into my vocabulary. This time, my mom had executed her warning and I was blowing soap bubbles for the next half hour. I am not sure who all has experience with having soap in their mouth but after this encounter, I made sure to watch what I say.
ReplyDeleteMy memory comes during the winter season, my family would make cookies, hang lights, and put up the Christmas tree. Me and my brothers have always had a small competition to see how high each of us could put our named ornaments. As the years have gone on we each got taller, which meant the ornaments went higher. My brothers would always try to cheat. Sometimes they would grab a chair or a foot stool.
ReplyDeleteNow as the years have gone, we each haven't been as competitive. But I still remember, this year I put them side by side. For myself, I had to put my self right up there with the star. This memory and tradition has been fading away, but I plan on keeping it alive for my future kids.
It was a fair day in the summer of 1998 and like most little kids in the summer months i was out playing with my friends. However on this day my father had been doing an immense amount of yard work since we had just moved into our new house about a month before, and was in need of dire fixing up.
ReplyDeleteI was riding my bike in the cal de sac, when all the neighborhood kids ran up to meet the new kid. I was a friendly little guy but, pretty apprehensive at the same time. To break the ice i suggested that we play tag, (my favorite game as a child). All the kids were down for the idea, in reality what elementary schooler wouldn't be though?
Little did i know, earlier that day, my dad had cut off some Hath-thorn tree branches. These branches have long nail like thorns with a poison that makes it hurt even more if pierced into the human skin. The garbage man had came and picked up these branches so i didn't think anything of it. Farther more since it was summer it i decided to go bare foot more often and today was one of those days.
I was chasing a girl since i was "it" in this game when all of a sudden a pain shot through my big toe, i looked down and realized there was a thorn sticking up through my big toe. I instantly dropped and was in pain . The other kids, not knowing me, and frightened, ran in fear. However there was one girl who wasnt frightened and helped me to my dad. After getting removed he asked me what i had learned from this. I said two things, "Never run barefoot." and secondly "If someone is in need, don't be afraid to lend a hand even if that are random a person."
Family is one of the most important things to me. I would not trade anyone or anything for my family. They have and always will be there for me. One of my favorite things to do with all my family is go to my grandparents lake house.
ReplyDeleteMy grandparents own two wave runners and a boat. From the day I turned sixteen to the summer I could not wait to get to the lake so that I could take the wave runner out without an adult having to be with me. The first weekend we went I ran inside, put my swim suit on, and my cousin and I put on our life jackets. We were ready to set off on our journey free from the parents. We wanted to take a tour of the lake which usually would take about thirty minutes to go all the way around. I am a daredevil and absolutely love doing tricks and circles as fast as I can. We get about half way around the lake and I decide to show off for my cousin. A few seconds later we were uncontrollably laughing in the water and the wave runner flipped over. Us two wimpy girls in the middle of the lake, there was no way we were getting that wave runner flipped back over. After about seven minutes of helplessness, my daddy and uncle came to the rescue.
From then on we always get made fun of and no kids are allowed to take the wave runners without both of them being out just in case another bad driver would do the same thing as I did. When my family is together it is nothing but crazy, good clean fun. Memories are made everytime we are all together and it's such an amazing feeling that we can all get along! If I could be with my family or even at the lake house all the time there would never be a dull moment in my life.
My family means a lot to me. I grew up with two loving parents who would do anything for me, and a older brother whom I'm very close too. We have forged many memories together throughout the years. One of my fondest is of the time when we took a family vacation to Florida.
ReplyDeleteWe went to Florida for winter break my sophomore year of high school. Our condo was in Destin which is about 45min from Panama City beach. We left the day after Christmas and that Christmas was at our house so my mom was very stressed out. Which in turns makes the rest of us stressed out, because she's barking orders at everyone. We were all ready to get down to the beach so we could relax in the sand. As soon as we got there it seemed as if all the stressed melted away. My brother and I ceased our constant arguing, while my mom stopped commanding us like soldiers. During those next five days we played board games, watched movies, and ate good food. I remember this as one of my families most relaxing and fun moments together.
Kate Sturm
ReplyDeleteA child is always asking, “Tell me a story”. Even though I am 19 years old I have still not outgrown the love of hearing stories. A common story I always love to hear is, “Tell me about when you knew you loved each other.” My papa would say that he knew he loved her the first time he saw my grandmother. He was a sophomore attending Xavier University and my grandmother was a freshman at Mount Saint Joseph College. It was half time at the football game, and he went down to the concession stands and saw my grandmother with a group of girls he knew. He asked them, “Who is that?” He ended up going on a date with her a few months later, and he never dated anyone else after that. My grandmother might have taken more convincing. Actually, after a date when my papa walked her to the door, he asked if he could kiss her. She thought about it for a second, and said no and said good night. You see, my grandmother was still thinking about becoming a nun at the time, and if she wanted to be a nun, she couldn’t go around kissing boys! Thank God she came around though. Five kids and 58 years after they first met, they are both still in love with each other.
How to Really Get the Girl You Want…
ReplyDeleteThe story of how my grandparents on my mother’s side got married is not like any other story of getting to know someone I have ever heard. My grandfather Dean first saw my grandmother Shirley in their college yearbook. He thought my grandmother was very pretty, and wanted to date her. What was more was that he didn’t want anyone else to date her. So he cut out her picture from the yearbook and kept her picture in his wallet, and would show off her picture to other guys and tell them that she was his girlfriend so they wouldn’t ask her out.
Dean and Shirley knew a little about each other, but Shirley didn’t know that Dean had her picture and called her his girlfriend. Shirley held three big standards that a guy had to have in order for her to date them; the guy had to be kind to animals, respect the elderly, and be good with kids; these were the three main things she valued in a man.
Now my grandfather heard about these three things my grandmother valued in a man, and he decided to show her that he met these standards. He knew where Shirley’s dorm room was; so on three separate days he showed Shirley that he could be the man she was looking for. On one day, he walked past her dorm room walking some dogs. On another day, Dean walked past her dorm wheeling an elderly man in a wheelchair. And on a third day, he walked past her room while being in charge of a group of children; showing her that he had the three things she valued in a man. His plan worked. Shirley did notice him and that he displayed all that she was looking for. They soon started dating for real, married, and have loved each other ever since, even to this day.
This story was told to us children to show us that what we value, in ourselves and our significant other is important. We have to remain true to who we are and know what we are looking for to make a relationship work.
Family Memory (Andrea's post)
ReplyDeleteAlthough my childhood was not the worst it could have been, it definitely could have been better. Most of my pleasant memories involve my mother and younger sister, Lindsay, and this one is no exception. When my grandparents lived in Crawford county, far out in the sticks, my family would visit frequently. During a few of these trips, my sister and I would bring home some new creature we found in the woods. One time, we caught two skinks and named them Blue-Tail and Brown-Tail respectively. We were able to secure a large terrarium for them but food soon became a problem.
I did not realize it but even back then, we were considered borderline impoverished. Purchasing crickets every week was just too expensive. So my mother made a suggestion one afternoon while my sister and I sat in front of the terrarium staring:
“Why don’t we catch their dinner for them?”
Lindsay and I jumped at this opportunity to crawl around in the grass after various insects. Being five and seven years-old, we still had not fully outgrown the joy of crawling around looking for things. Our yard was plenty large enough for such an excursion and we spent all afternoon and into the evening catching dozens of tiny crickets to feed our pets. After we caught enough, Mom peeled a small potato and then both potato and the surplus of crickets tumbled into the lizards’ cage. Our success motivated us to continue this activity during all of the spring and summer months. We managed to buy crickets during the colder months when catching them was near impossible but the three of us came to thoroughly enjoy the time we spent together.
Even more than a decade later, we still reminisce about it. I think it is one of the memories that the three of us really cherish.
This is Xiaosiqi Yang's post:
ReplyDeleteWhen I was young, at about five years old, I was learning to play the violin.
Once, I was scheduled to attend the violin class which was held in my instructor's house. It was a dark evening on weekend and snowing heavily outside. And the tutor lived three or four mile away from my home. Between them was a large rice field. Three miles walking can even be kind of distant for me nowadays, moreover for a young kid! But my mom said I ought to be there as normal. So mom, taking me with her, got out of home and stepped forward.
At that time we had no cars. We had to wade through on our way. To be honest, I didn't mean to go on that horrible day because of the strong snowstorm. Yet mom noticed my somewhat upset. She tried to make me happy by singing songs and telling me fairy tales.
It took us about one hour to be at the instructor's home. When he opened the door, he was astonished. He said he had never looked forward our arrival and he was touched.
...
I don't recall what was taught on that day. And the violin techniques have also barely been gone from my brain. However, something valuable rushed into my mind. I won't give up even though heading to unimaginable hardships easily later days since this thing happened. Maybe this is the lesson my mom wanted to give me.
I have always been a sucker for the female gender and I believe that my passion has come from my Grandpa Frank. My mother has always told me stories about how my Grandpa loved my grandma Charlotte so much. The things that he did for her and the songs that he sang to her were always captivating.
ReplyDeleteWhen my grandparents were young, there was a time when they did not know each other. The first time my grandpa had laid eyes on my grandma, he told her he was going to marry her. Of course she didn't believe him or care to pay any attention to him because she was chasing after a different guy. My grandpa didn't care for this fella too much so he said that if he didn't stop talking to Charlotte, then he would beat the crap out of him (only in a much more demanding and fill-in-the-blank kind of way." So the man who my grandmother was dating at the time told her that he could no longer see her because of what my grandpa had said. My grandma was mad and a bit sad but she got over it once she had noticed the charm and passion that she had missed the first time she met my grandpa.
After a long 55 years of marriage, my grandpa Frank passed away with cancer and my grandma Charlotte lives on sharing the love that my grandfather had with her, to the rest of the family.
With this, I can say that someday I am sure that the same passion and devotion my grandfather poured into my grandmother, I too will carry on his legacy to my future wife.