packing and memories

packing has brought up any number of thoughts, some of which I've talked through with some of you, some of which I haven't...

It's interesting to go through stuff because some things act as triggers to our memories. This is about one that is more than just a trigger - it's actually recorded history.

In my Junior year of high school I had a project to interview a family member - in this case my grandmother - about their lives. Sort of like the StoryCorps on NPR. I knew I had the tape, and sure enough, came across it. I also came across an old walkman and so I sat and listened to it today.

My grandmother went to a one-room school house. She traveled by horse and buggy. She clearly remembered the day she saw a plane for the first time. And she talked of the hardships of the second world war.

She remembered the great depression vividly. There was always food to eat - they were on a farm and had strawberries and plenty of eggs and chickens - but there was no money, and what they did have went towards medicine for her sick mother.

She said the day after she had married my grandfather, Roosevelt closed the banks. Some would never re-open. Including theirs. There would be no honeymoon - she had never even taken a vacation as a child. They would start their life and work together immediately.

When asked what the greatest invention that she saw in her lifetime was (and remember, this is someone who saw the advent of most modern inventions) she rather quickly replied "refrigeration" - remembering how often people got sick before its advent.

I can't help but be amazed at how different our lives are with just one generation in between. She was probably the grandparent I was closest with; after my grandfather's death, she sold the farm in Troy and moved to a small house across the street from where I grew up. And I don't think she could ever have even imagined that her grandchild would be moving to India.

I really wish I had repeated this project with my grandfather on my dad's side as well. He was in Detroit, but when it comes down to it, I don't know all that much about what his life was like. He was a quiet man because of his hearing problems. He was never more alive than when playing cards - which required little actual verbal communication. My other two grandparents died when I was much younger.

And, of course, being thirty-one and listening to the questions a seventeen-year-old asked for a history project makes me wish I had asked some different questions... but even so, the project is probably one of few from high school that was really worth doing.... and should still be done.