Reflections on this anniversary

 This year, we opted to do something a bit different to mark September 9. For the past 48 years, I have marked the anniversaries of the deaths of my Grandparents and Aunt Barbara in a variety of ways. 

So this year marked a different approach, and is meant to celebrate life. 

So I approached my mother, with our idea. A meal of some their favorite foods and some stories my mother would be willing to share, over zoom, to give us an idea of who these people were. I will admit I was afraid the topic would be upsetting, but it was the opposite - my mother was happy to recollect and speak with us. First task: find out some favorite foods.  Apparently Barbara liked all the typical Amercian teenager foods that my own childen eat: pizza and fries, of course. But as this was our first launch we wanted to upscale it a bit, so in honor of my Granfather, Bill Peak, we went with a steak dinner. 

Once we all sat down, a bit dressed up for the occasion as well, we connected with mom to hear stories. 

One of the things I find intriguing with ancestry research is the possibility to look back and find out something of a person. Not just a date or a name of a town, but how may I know this person. So while I may muddle through my own life and agonize or breeze through a million decisions, who would ever know? I could make spectacular errors or heroic ventures... and all of it may seem consequential in a moment but in the end may be catolouged by humanity as a gravestone and a small collection of records. A life represented by census papers and maybe a will or a marraige licnense. And that's it. The stories, unless someone wrote them down, are lost. I have this one 4th or 5th great grandmother who apparently wrote poems to her grandchildren. I happen to have one. It is a treasure because it is a representation of the who she was not just what she was.

So here I am, writing it down....I learn, not for the first time of how Grandpa Bill loved a steak. And that he could make fried chicken. I had heard that one before and it always struck me, since I grew up in a house where the only things my father could make were scrambled eggs and coffee.

I hear, not for the first time, about how both of my grandparents were atypical of their time when it came to issues of race and equality. My grandmother, who was from a LDS background in Utah, was especially impassioned about this. There is nothing about her background that would explain it (nothing against Utah, or the LDS, but we are talking about a woman born in 1922) but she simply knew that people of different races were equal and should be treated as such. My grandfather was apparently less vocal about this but did support this view in action. My mother tells us how my grandparents invited officers who were people of color, over for a meal, with the intention of demonstrating their beliefs. 

My mother recalls a party in honor of my grandfather's retirement from the Army. As her father had served his country within the intelligence community as well as the military we will never know everything he may have seen or done. But my mother recalls well a man at the party who told her that while she may not know what her father had done exactly, that she ought to know he had done great things for this country. At this party he received a presidential medal for his service as well. Grandpa Bill and Barbara are seen together celebrating his retirement.

Apparently, Barbara and her father were great pals. I have heard them described that way before. In the photo above is Barbara at age 13 or 14, about a year before she died, and so she really was the baby of the family. My mother tells us stories describing someone who was quite the little grown up.

Apparently, she was a very big reader because while they were stationed in eastern Europe the most American thing on TV was the Flintstones speaking Hungarian. So she read and she drew. She loved comics as well. But apparently she would read anything. My mother tells us that Grandpa would fall asleep reading his book and Barbara would take it off of him while he slept and read it herself. When Grandpa would wake up he could never find his books.

Other little snippets I had heard of them over the years: Grandpa like the song Mrs. Robinson, by Simon and Garfunkel. He liked to read the last page of a book before he started it. And he would do a puzzle without looking at the picture on the box. Barbara had the Lord of the Rings books and I have her copy of the Hobbit. Growing up, we had her collection of Peanuts comics, which I would read over and over..

So this writing is not about how they died, which was horrible and sad and will never stop breaking my heart. This is about who they were, honoring their memories and getting to know the people that were so loved.

More about my Grandmother, Bernice, will be coming in November when we will mark her yahrzeit on the anniversary of her passing, around November 8. 

In their Blessed memories, a donation has been made to 866-OUR-VOTE. This is a nonpartisan election protection coalition that works to ensure all voters have equal opportunity to vote. Based on what my mother said, Grandpa would have really liked that, for he loved this country and all it can be.

Also a donation has been made to Everytown For Gun Safety. Because I never got the chance to argue politics with my grandfather. And because the only picture my Aunt Barbara drew of her first niece was of my mother, pregnant.

May their memory be for a Blessing.