Classroom Home | Heritage Online | Chester Heritage Project Home | Montana Heritage Project Home | email Renee Rasmussen
TeacherLore | Veterans History Project | Montana Literature
Classroom Blogs: White Sulphur Springs | Ronan | Libby

Wednesday, December 01, 2004

The Rocking Chair

Sitting atop the dusty, weather beaten wagon, May Pegg Kinyon looks off into the distance and dreams of the new life awaiting her in the West.  May and her family left on their journey from Parkston, South Dakota with thoughts of visiting their Uncle Homer in Moscow, Idaho, and starting a new life there. The four wagons carrying her and fourteen other relatives were piled to the top with belongings as they set off on their journey in 1898.  Among the heaps of things was a rocking chair.  The chair had been made by my great-great-grandfather and was used for nurturing and rocking their baby to sleep. The rocker was being hauled along with the hope of its being of further use for May, and for the generations to come. 
A short stocky woman, May had to overcome many struggles in her years.  While traveling west on a covered wagon, she nursed a young baby who had colic, trying to ease his unceasing crying.  When her family arrived in Idaho, she had little time to get cozy before she was forced to pack up their belongings and head to Galata, Montana, where her family was to homestead.  There she cared for her children in a home with nothing more than a dirt floor.  The chore of raising the kids was often a one-person affair, as her husband was forced to travel to North Dakota to work in a mine for the winter, leaving May alone at home.  Cooking, cleaning, and caring for the children shows that the word strength was merely an understatement for my great-great-grandmother.
In bestowing the chair on my grandmother, Esther May, my great-great-grandmother was giving a small piece of herself away in order to help another.  Esther was without a rocking chair, though she had to nurse a young child who had colic, just as May’s youngest had had years before.  I admired her love and courage as she was giving away something handmade by her husband to benefit another mother in need. 
I barely noticed the small chair sitting in the corner when I visited my grandparents’ home, and few know the story that goes along with it.  But when it came to family gatherings, the rocking chair was an object fought over by the siblings. With each commotion came the same warning about keeping it in one piece.
After the children grew up and the novelty of the chair wore off, the small rocker sat in my grandma Esther’s room, or in the living room of their house until the day they moved from their home into the camper where they presently live.  When the time came for the move, the rocking chair was again piled with the other cherished possessions in the back of a storage shed, just as it had been placed in the back of the covered wagon.
No longer unnoticed, the chair now sticks out in my mind as a symbol of love.  With the ability to have the family gather around it for a story or to nurture a crying baby to sleep, the chair is a concrete part of my family.  Made with care and used with love, the chair will always be a treasured family heirloom.

Statistics

Total Entries: 1197
Total Comments: 315
Most Recent Entry: 04/25/2010 11:38 pm
Most Recent Comment on: 09/10/2009 10:50 pm