Page 24 - july 2022

A SEASON OF STORIES
Before It's Too Late
Leanna Lindquist, DTM
“Do you know your family’s stories?” I’m sure
many of you do. If you’re like me, you wish
you knew more.
During the height of the pandemic, our
family wasn’t together for Thanksgiving or
Christmas. We all missed out on valuable
family time, family legend and lore. Before the
vile year known as 2020 ended, so did the life of
my mother. It was an unexpected loss. I drove
to Idaho and helped my dad navigate through
the mandatory notifications and fill out the
endless forms. We went through my mother’s
clothes, jewelry, and desk and dispersed items
as appropriate. My mother was gone, but the
evidence of her long life was still there with my
dad. Family pictures, her collection of antique
cracker jars lovingly collected over the years,
and her personal touch in their home.
My daughter and I had planned to visit my
folks the spring of 2021 to help my mother with
spring cleaning and record stories. Why had
she kept the gold satin comforter in pristine
condition in her cedar chest for 70 years?
Which great grandma did the depression glass
belong to? Tell me again about your first job.
When she died so did her stories of growing
up in the forest ranger’s house in western
Montana. I knew some of those stories, but not
the rich detail one can capture when questions
are asked, and the answers are written down.
My grandparents’ stories died that day too.
24 ONE COMMUNITY
The ones I didn’t ask about and
write down. My grandparents
were married for 71 years. I
was close to them; I don’t
know how they met. How
could I not know that? It
really bothers me that
I don’t have it written
down somewhere.
The phone call came just
after 8:30 Friday morning on June
3rd. It was from my dad’s best friend.
“Leanna, your dad died this morning.” At the
age of 93 he was active. He rode his recumbent
bicycle for miles. He had plans. I had talked to
him on the phone the day before. He was going
to the Senior Center for lunch and to play poker
at the Community Center in the evening. And
then he was gone. It was unexpected and it hit
our family hard.
He was born in Wisconsin in 1928 and
worked a lot of jobs to help his family
make ends meet. I know he worked in a
factory. Which one? I don’t remember. I
should have written it down. His maternal
grandfather fought in the Civil War. That is
well documented in our family. I don’t know
anything about his paternal grandparents. I
do know lots of details about how he and my
mother met. That is something.
It’s hard to describe what I felt when I
walked in the
front door of
my parent’s home
after my dad was
gone. My parents
were married for 70
years and now it was up
to me to bring home, sell,
give away, or throw away the
physical evidence of that long
life together.
You’ve probably heard, “it’s
just material things.” That’s all well
and good until you are faced with the
sorting and dispersing of your loved ones
prized possessions. I picked up a little porcelain
pitcher. I saw it full of piping hot chocolate
sauce lovingly homemade by my grandma.
To be poured over a bowl of vanilla ice cream
for dessert. It’s much more than a material
thing. It’s memories. It’s stories of a time and
of people long gone.
I picked up various keepsakes and
wondered why they were special to my mother.
Did I owe it to her to pack them up and bring
them back to Portland? Which ones were
attached to meaningful stories and which ones
could be discarded without a second thought.
When my grandma was 97, she wrote the
story of her life in longhand on a legal pad.
I typed it up and made copies. It was four
pages long. Not an epic tale, but enough to
understand the essence of my grandma. I’m
happy to have it.
Several years ago, I gifted my mother the
book Mom Tell Me Your Story. It was one of
those fill-in-the-blank books. Who were your
childhood friends? What was your favorite
book?
In my mind she would pull out the book
in the evenings and answer a few questions
at a time. It would be a keepsake for me and
my children. Answers to questions we didn’t
know to ask. When she died and I was tasked
to write her obituary, I searched for the book
as a source of inspiration. In three years, she
had answered three questions, just three about
a life that was almost nine decades long.
And so, I ask you again, do you know your
family stories? Have you or a family member
taken the time to ask the questions and capture
the lives of your loved ones? Since my parents
are gone, it is up to me to keep the stories of
my ancestors alive.
The way I look at it, as long as we are around
to tell their stories they are still with us.
Leanna joined Toastmasters in 2009. She is a past
District 7 Director, current club officer in three
clubs, budding writer, and a friend, coach and
mentor to many.
VOICES! | JULY 2022 25