Tell Me a Story

Have You Checked Your Roots Lately . . .

I know you just ran for a mirror . . . hey, I’m right there with you! But, I’m thinking about a different kind of roots today.

I know it’s not my age because according to pop culture, 57 is the new 37 . . . yea right? It may be my grandchildren. When I look around at this crazy world, it makes me think about the things I want those little girls to know for certain. They won’t have the privilege of growing up in an innocent world like girls my age did. We may have thought it was boring at the time, but we could have never envisioned the things from which we were protected.

I picked up the Sunday paper this morning, as is my ritual with my first cup of coffee, and on the front page I read of three extremely violent acts. I read things like that in the paper almost daily and see it on the news every night before I go to bed. The horrifying thing about this one is that I knew one family. A wonderful Christian family minding their own business when intruders came to the door with a made up story to try and gain entrance to harm and rob them. The owner was suspicious and got his gun. The life of one of the intruders was taken, but the home owner was able to protect his family . . . this time.

Sure I fear for myself. This little town is getting worse all the time. The influx of drugs and drug dependency is horrible. The loss of jobs and opportunity for employment is so high. Add those two together and you get a very scary picture. They will do unbelievable things to get drugs or money for drugs.

This culture by in large doesn’t respect human life. It’s not only scary . . . it is sad. So sad, it honestly makes me cry. When I was growing up in the South, life was so much simpler. As I said in my profile, I have recently discovered I had a very privileged upbringing, and this is exactly what I am talking about.

We felt loved and safe. As I think about it now, I almost chuckle at how innocent we were. I didn’t worry about anything because of my Daddy. My Daddy was going to take care of us and, if you messed with any of us; you were going to answer to him! He was soft spoken, but when it came to his children, I can’t even imagine what he would have been capable of to protect us.

My Daddy died suddenly April 26, 1992. My grandchildren never knew him. That is such a tragedy for them and for Daddy. He loved his children so much and when the grandchildren came along, he could hardly stand it. With that sweet southern drawl, he always said, “They don’t call em grand for nothin!” Now being a grandparent myself and knowing what he felt, he would have absolutely adored his great-grandchildren and they him.

There were so many wonderful family members that had an impact on my life that never had the joy of knowing my grandchildren nor did my grandchildren have the honor and privilege of being taught very important values by the way they lived their lives and the things they taught us. I feel a responsibility to pass those things on to them so they can pass them on.

Ed Chinn has said "A story is like a seed. It carries a power which is mysterious, potent, and continuing. When it falls into the ground of a human mind, it takes on a life of its own. Family stories should be told well and often and thereby, planted in the soil of family culture. When it comes to stories we have the choice to become a producer or a curator (guardian, keeper). Producers clean it up and make it marketable. Curators have a much greater depth of respect for the story and knowledge of its true value. They know the story is not a product. They also know it has no responsibility to us; we have a responsibility to it! Curators want to preserve it exactly as they found it. And, they care about its safety and survival. So, for them, the challenge is to just find the right setting to display it. They are focused on passing it on intact to future generations."

Families are so disconnected these days. It’s really hard to do what I’m talking about without conscious effort. You have to want to pass it on. Write it down. I have journals and notebooks that I plan to leave, but I want to tell them in my own words, in my own voice for them to remember while I can. I've talked about how I can hear Daddy's voice and Grandma's voice. I want them to experience that.

Euguene Peterson says,“We live in a world impoverished of story.” I tend to agree with him. Oh, we have plenty of things to read, hundreds of channels to watch, more avenues of communication than this world has ever known, but do we talk, do we communicate (listen) within families, do we tell stories, do we know each other?

You will be surprised how interested children are in what you have to say, if you make it interesting. Recently on a trip to Alabama, my grandchildren were so interested in a story I was telling them about the milkman who came to my grandmother’s house. I talked about how she would leave a note pinned to the screen door with a clothes pin telling him exactly what she needed. Those were times of total trust. She lived way out on a farm and she didn't want to miss getting what she needed. She would tell him in the note she would be out and he should go in and put those things in the refrigerator. He was to write the amount she owed on the same note and collect it the next time. They were spell bound by that little story.

Remember they have never seen a milkman, they had to learn from me why she didn’t get those things at the grocery, which led to a story about the things that we grew on the farm, canning and freezing, the things we raised like cows, hogs, and chickens and how they were preserved. With eyes as big as saucers they were both looking at me. No yelling in the car about sit down, be quiet, turn the music down. When I finished, they had many questions, then the oldest looked at me and said, “How do you know so much stuff?” See, I had not talked about a video game (I don’t know how to play them); we had not discussed the latest Jonas Brothers song or whatever 9 year olds dig. They can get that anywhere. They trust everything I tell them to be true, and they think I know a lot of stuff that other people don't. Trust me, they will pass it on. They already are.

Occasionally they'll test my version. We recently had a conversation about the famous "Chamber Pot" to which my proper Southern Mama said, "Shhh! You shouldn't talk about that in public!" But just to be sure I didn't make that one up, they went to one of my Mama's brothers, the one who still loves to get under his sister's skin, and he told them more about it from personal experience! They were rolling in the floor! My poor Mama was mortified!

Having been blessed to know all of my grandparents, and several great-grandparents, I have a heart full of stories to share. I tell stories all the time and when I am with my relatives, I like to hear theirs, because I plan on passing them on. My greatest joy is when my granddaughters say, “You know what Grandma Sarah would say?” or “Grand Philip said this or did that.” They do know because I have told stories. They are alive to them in their mind and in pictures. Teach them to visualize.

Have you checked your roots lately? People trace their genealogy and their heritage. Pass it on. Learn more than names, ask questions, and tell your children and grandchildren about those special people. Tell them the good, the mischevious, and the funny. They need to know this world was so much different once upon a time, and in my opinion a better place, a kinder place. They need to know the kind of people they come from, and they need to know a lot is expected of those who carry that blood line.

I believe we have so many kids out there who just play games, get involved in bad things as teens, and grow older to commit horrific things because they are not connected. It’s not just my small town . . . it’s magnified all across this great nation . . . its epidemic . . . its sad! I’m no Pollyanna. I know you can't save every kid. I wouldn’t want to be a child growing up in today’s world. You know the things we had to face as kids growing up. Compare that to society today . . . there is hardly any comparison. But, I do believe if they felt a connection, felt that sense of belonging, had some sort of grounding, roots, it would/ could make a significant difference in some lives.

We have children having children, parents who were never equipped or loved trying to raise children the best they can, girls having babies with boys or men who have no intention of taking responsibility for them. It is tough out there. Maybe you are a parent of one of those kids or a grandparent. Sometimes a true story with a message spoken without judgment can mend fences or at least start a conversation. Families need each other.

As I said in the beginning . . . look at your roots. Think back, ask your children if they remember a certain event, tell it again. Ask a relative about certain times and events or other relatives that are gone, spend time with your grandchildren, leave your imprint on their lives, let them get to know you and their roots. I mentioned earlier about teaching them to visualize things. Visualize with me the roots of a large tree. For the tree to thrive and survive, the roots must go down deep and out wide. It's the same way with our families. Be the story teller in your family. Try to connect or reconnect. It is so worth it and like a mighty oak tree, the family will be standing strong long after you are gone.