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Saturday, October 22, 2005
Grandpa Orville’s Navy Wings
My Gradpa received his aircrew wings after serving three years in the Navy while stationed in the Phillippines during World War II. Stories of his flying experiences were passed down from generation to generation. My Dad, Orville’s eighth child, told me of Orville being shot down into the Pacific Ocean where he waited with his pilot for four hours before being rescued. Orville saved his wings because serving in the Navy was something special to him. He was proud of his accomplishments and the duty he had fulfilled. The wings were not actually passed down to a particular child but found by my Dad at their farm house out in the shop. He chose to keep them because they were something to remember his father by. It’s also a special memento from WWII, and represents the history of his Dad’s time served in the Navy. My Dad plans on passing them down to either my brother or myself. I have formed a new found respect for the grandfather i never knew. It feels like i know my Dad better by learning a little about his Dad and how they lived their lives. The wings to me represent an era of hardship. War is something no one likes to endure and at the young age of seventeen Orville went off to fight for his country. I would be both happy and proud to receive my Grandpa’s wings now that i know the history behind them.
Friday, October 21, 2005
A Grandmother’s Love
Ever since I was young, I have always noticed the small, blue and pink ceramic honeybees sitting atop our window sill in the kitchen. Until recently, I never understood their significance except that of collecting dust. After having a thorough discussion with my mother, Kathy, about what these heirlooms mean to her, I have come to the conclusion that I would be nothing without my family.
When my mom was six years old, she went with her mom (my grandma) to Havre to visit her Grandma Blanche (my great-grandma). Before stopping at my great-grandma’s house, they made a quick stop at the Atrium to go shopping. She saw the honeybees and bought them for her grandmother. After receiving the gift, Grandma Blanche was pleased and greatly appreciated them. Years passed, and one day while Great-Grandma Blanche was dusting, she accidentally dropped and broke the honeybees. For a couple years, she searched high and low for exact replicas and finally came across a pair at a garage sale. It was kept a secret between my great-grandma and my grandma until a couple weeks after Grandma Blanche passed away. They were going through Grandma Blanche’s belongings and Grandma Fern told my mom the story of how they were fakes. Now, my mom has said that when she looks at the honeybees that were passed on to her she realizes how much of a caring person her grandmother was. They had a very close relationship and the honeybees have brought me even closer to my own mother and grandmother. With a little help from the honeybees, my family is meaning more to me each and everyday.
My lovely pictures
When I came to Chester MT, I brought four pictures which have a lot of meaning to me. The first one is my family picture. We were having a party for me and my cousins that would be going to the USA to study. The second and third pictures are of me, my brother and my mom and dad. The last picture is of my friends at school. I loved everybody very much, we did activities together. The day that I would come to Chester, they agreed to be absent from school to sent me, making me surprised very much. These pictures make me miss my parents and my friends very much.
Knitting and Prayer
My maternal Great Grandmother Julia came from Poland when she was sixteen. She didn’t have many belongings living in Kansas with her husband, Rufus, and ten children. But before she and her family uprooted and moved to Montana, a woven basket came into her possession. This basket served as a yarn holder while my great grandmother fixed old and sewed new clothes for her unwealthy family. Knowing my great grandparents didn’t have much of anything, I now understand why my mom works so hard for everything she has. It is important to my family to make use of anything we may or may not be given. Julia’s seventh child, my Grandpa Everett, saved the basket and gave it to my mother, Judy, his fourth child, because he knew she liked antique things. It was the only thing my grandfather received from his mother.
My descendants were also very religious. My mother received her mother’s Confirmation Bible. Inside is a record of not my grandmother’s family, but her husband’s. This record states the births and deaths of Everett’s parents and siblings. No one is really sure why my grandmother put Everett’s family record in her Holy Bible, but I believe the reason might lie in the fact that Everett had nine siblings, and she had only two; and her two weren’t as significant as nine. I have a suspicion that my grandmother recorded the names in her bible as another way to talk to those who had passed away, like they were guardian angels.
Coffee Cup Treasure
While digging in a dump yard, my great grandfather Louis stumbled across my family heirloom. He was simply searching for soda cans but ultimately discovered a new treasure. His “treasure” was a small coffee cup that has the word “BABY” printed in blue letters across the font; small pink flowers weave in and out of the word. My great grandfather cherished the small entity from the day he found it to the day he died. He was amazed at its perfect condition...since it had been found in a hill of waste. A novel treasure was that cup to him. It was given a spot high on a shelf in his home. When my great grandfather died the cup was given to his daughter, Lucy, who is my grandmother. She cherished the cup for many years but later gave the small possession to my father. Now the small cup has a spot high on a shelf in our home. (We know nothing about the cup except that it was made in Germany in 1931.)
The cup has so many different meanings for the people in my family. For my father, it is a symbol of who Louis was, though, for my grandmother it’s a memento for remembrance. My great grandfather died before I was given to chance to know him; but there are so many stories and traditions in our family that carry on his legacy. Before I knew about the cup, I knew hardly anything about Louis. Today, after completing my heirloom project, I know much more about the lifestyles Louis followed and the personality he possessed. To me the cup symbolizes hope. It teaches me that even when I am literally “down in the dumps,” keep digging; something good is bound to come out of it. Someday I hope that the small cup will have a spot high on a shelf in my home.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Your First Blog Assignment
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.
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
The Little Black Skillet
The family heirloom I chose was a little black skillet that my grandma passed down to me. My grandma received the little black skillet from her aunt when she was 10 years old.
HI - Line Farms
My Grandfather owned and managed several different businesses in Joplin, but the one that stuck out the most to me was the family farm. Upon purchase of the farm grandpa also had a dozen hats made with the name of the farm on the front. Now there are only a few hats left and one was given to me recently. Therefore it is an heirloom to me.
Golden Nugget
My mother recieved this one third ounce golden nugget from my grandmother (her mom) on the day my grandfather was buried. My grandmother recieved this golden nugget from my grandpa after a long mining trip to Alaska with his daughter (my mother). During their time in Alaska, they spent six weeks of finding virtually nothing. The day they were to leave my grandfather took his daughter to a special place that he’d taken no one and together they found and mined this special golden nugget with their own hands.
Monday, October 25, 2004
The Saddle
My family heirloom story is about a family saddle. This saddle first belonged to my great-grandfather who used the saddle for ranching and everyday transportation. My grandfather sold the saddle to a local doctor who many years later resold it to my family.
My Toy Tractor
While my grandfather sold Case farm equipment he collect toy tractors; one of which is extremely rare. Case sent a prototype of a tractor to all the dealers in North America. Sometime between sending the toy model they merged with another company and never made the actual tractors. After he left the business in 1989 he gave me his collection and instructed me to never sell any of them.
The little tweety dress
My grandma got my mom the dress (when she was three) as a gift. My mom loved it so much that she toke care of it. Then she gave it to me was I was around three years old. I will give it to my daughter when she is three.
The Giraffe
My Grandmother recieved this stuffed Giraffe before her brother went to World War II. It has been in my family for two generations. My grandmother gave me this giraffe after my brother enterted the Marine Corps and had a chance to to be sent to Iraq.
Sunday, October 24, 2004
The Gold Rose Ring
The truth really is stranger than fiction. When my grandmother told me the dramatic soap-opera story behind my family heirloom—a gold rose filigree ring—I had a newfound interest in family history. Not only did I learn factual information about each family member who wore this family heirloom before me, but I learned psychological information about their characters, to which I could relate. Ironically enough, I found that I am a lot like the women in my family who wore this ring ahead of me. The more I learn about my family, the more I uncover about me, my values, and my character. Next time my grandmother calls, I’ll be eager to ask more questions and learn more about my family’s past, now that I realize it’s full of secrets and intrigue.
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