The Hope of Family Things

Grace Bennett Hill's (1726-1772) silver spoon.

Though not named in the letter, Sarah Hill Alston's mother was Grace Bennett.

Today, I am supposed to bring a physical item to share with my writing group (via Zoom). As I consider what I might bring, several items march past my mind’s eye – a silver spoon handed down through 7 generations of women (since the 1700s!), the antique cabinet of my third great-grandmother (Emily Jane Goodnight Smith) that I have carted thousands of miles across the country during multiple moves since my 20’s and is now sitting in my dining room, several pieces of jewelry from women of whom I am descended, little sugar dishes and creamers, and finally, two century-old wicker rockers owned by my great-grandparents, Lillian and Roy Bedichek.

I clearly have an attachment to items that belonged to my ancestors. In fact, I have a hard time saying, “No,” when they are offered, or at risk of being discarded by a family member.

I know I have a tendency to collect things, in general, but I definitely have a strong affinity for things that belonged to people in my family tree.

The more I think about it, the more I wonder, “Why?”

In our current world that is cluttered with so many THINGS – items that are actually putting our human family at risk – it seems counter-intuitive to cling to these items so desperately.

What is the point?

Do I hope that my kids will want them and keep them? Why?

Do I want to eventually give them to a local history museum?

After some thought, I realize not only do the items feel like a physical “through-line” and connection to the leaves on my family tree, they are a physical connection to the stories – even if I do not know them – of the lives they touched. When I rock in the wicker chairs, the stream of consciousness in my monkey brain echoes with the faint murmurrings of Roy and Lillian – as if I hear a conversation from a distant room that I cannot quite make out. As I rock on a Colorado afternoon on my front porch in the wicker chairs, straining to hear the exchange, I know that they once rocked in these very chairs, having that conversation – soaking up a hot Texas afternoon, watching the world go by.

***

This experiencing of my great-grandparents brings me closer to a deep understanding of the human experience. They had struggles and successes. The world they lived in was full of turmoil – two world wars, the Great Depression, McCarthyism (a friend of theirs was targeted), the Women’s Suffrage Movement, the Civil Rights Movement and assassinations of so many. We humans seem to love (maybe even thrive on?) conflict and struggle. Our human experience is a product of the complex attempt of so many imperfect souls to live in harmony with each other. It is a messy -- and often dangerous -- business.

Perhaps by tethering myself to the physical objects of my ancestors, I am also tethering myself to hope -- hope that we humans can survive despite ourselves. Rock on!

Lillian and Roy Bedichek's wicker rockers sitting on my front porch..

Remnant of the original chair fabric.