Beautiful, Karen. It is not always easy to sit down with good intentions and sift through memories. Finding just the right words to capture and embrace love blurred by time .Writing them down somehow makes each one more tangible, but just out of our reach. My mom and dad never spoke of Samhain, or a place or time when the veil is thin. Never a conversation about the unknown or unexplainable. Nevertheless, my one and only experience was born from a love that surpassed time, with wings. When my mom passed, my two sisters , my husband and my dad were about to leave the cemetery by limousine. I opened the door of the limo for my father. He ducked his head and was half way in, when a huge, beautiful dragonfly with a wingspan of about 6“ landed on his head.
I said to him; wait Dad , you have a dragonfly on your head, starting to reach up with my hand to lightly brush it away , he responded, no leave it there , it’s your mother. Time stood still. That magnificent dragonfly just sat there lightly fluttering its wings and then lifted in flight and was gone. He never remembered it happening. A few days later, I was cleaning out one of my mom’s drawers and hidden in the far corner , a linen handkerchief with an embroidered dragonfly. I showed it to him and he said he would like to keep it. He apparently gave it to her many years before. I searched to see if dragonflies have any symbolic meaning. What I found was that throughout history, as far back as ancient cultures, a dragonfly was associated with carrying the souls of the deceased to the afterlife . He never remembered it happening even years later. My sisters and I will never forget. I have never seen such a magnificent dragonfly again. They both taught me that our family was bound by love.
I love this story about the dragonfly SO MUCH! How incredibly beautiful. And I have had the experience a few times of someone saying something to me that they don't remember later, that's when you really know it was spirit speaking. Thank you for sharing this story with me.
We never had these conversations in my home (protestant upbringing) either, but I've had enough experiences (both waking and dreaming) to understand how real it is!
Being greeted by the first two photos my first reaction was, it's an inland ocean sunrise! My brain would not allow any other interpretation, definitely an ocean abet landlocked. And such a nice transition of the maple leaves from one fleeting week to the next - Autumn in all it's glorious too soon good-by no matter how we wish it would stay and visit longer. Loved the gull caught in it's full winged touch down and oh, those landing gear feet!
Today is definitely a honor the ancestors day. I never knew my maternal grandfather or paternal grandmother gone before I was born but they were kept alive for me through their stories by my parents and aunts and older cousins leaving me with longing to have known them. And Ancestry has brought to life my ancient ancestors in the 1600's - 1800's, although those ancient women of the family certainly did not receive their full due - their voices shadowy and indistinct. But I go through the lists of the long ago ancients and say their names.
It looked a bit like an inland ocean with those big winds! We don't get waves like that very often at all. The fishermen who were there when I got there said it sounded like a jet engine an hour earlier.
And yes, that is a great way to describe what I found on Ancestry. Lots of clear records of the men - though largely because of draft cards and military service - and much fewer for the women. I love that you say their names.
Thank you for the honoring of the ancestors. Dia de los muertas...has more meaning than ever for me.
I remember my Grandmother Severina...yes her name translated to severe, although she was that way only now and then...She left the convent in her late 20s and then married and raised 7 children during the Depression, feeding everyone including the hoboes who showed up at their door, no matter what. Resourceful and hard working lady.
I didn't know my grandfather whom she married and I heard he was a mild mannered man who when he spoke you listened especially his sons. I think I have that voice and it helped raising 3 sons on my own.
My grandmother Berniece, a farm woman who had the elegance of the higher born ladies. She taught me how make small stitches and how to take care of my cuticles. :)
And my grandfather Glenn, whose mother came from Scotland. He was fun as a grandfather and played mousey mousey with me, and I also heard he was a tough farmer again whom you listened to.
As I write this I realize that I have some tough ancestors who knew how to be heard. hmmmm....
Thanks for the opportunity to reflect and understand and appreciate...
Karen, thank you for all you shared in today’s post. Both images and words. Your listing of family members you considered “closest to you” took my breath away! What you wrote was both truthful and from your heart, and not what jolted me. Rather, your having this array of important folks and distinct memories of their teachings is quite unlike my own. Virtually none I felt close to! Often when I compare the experiences of another’s to mine, I pause to examine mine. Trying harder to look for parallels. My dip net came up empty today. I sense in myself envy and longing due to your memories that were not mine.
• I never met my father’s parents and don’t remember their first names. And know nothing about their parents or ancestry.
• My father, Ralph, graduated valedictorian of his high school class and wanted to attend college to study forestry. He also was an avid outdoor’s man. His parents, amid the Great Depression, couldn’t provide that financial help. He worked on a “wildcatter” oil rig, learned welding skills, then enlisted to fight in WW II. On his return he used the G.I. Bill to attend a two year trade school in Denver to study gunsmithing as well as making split bamboo fly rods and tying flies. To get full time work in that business would have required moving to a much larger town, with many hunters in the area. Guess what?! Mom would have none of that, yet constantly complained how she hated living where she was. So dad worked for $1 per hour at a farm and feed store. Government surplus food comprised a helpful part of our diet. Three vacant lots on either side of our house were purchased (no idea how), and were cleared by my brother and I at a young age. Major gardening ensued. Mom knew all the measures for food processing and preserving from her own mom. Rachel Carson’s “Silent Spring” set us on a course to garden organically. Dad found work at an Owens-Illinois glass container factory near our home. He worked his way up from tough entry level assignments to finally having a position in the machine shop where his gunsmithing skills with precision machining and fastening came into play. He was on call for any equipment breakdowns that occurred outside of regular 8:00-4:30 hours. If called he had to clock in less than 20 minutes after being called. So much for sleep hygiene. Just after I graduated college, he at age 55 died of a heart attack. Despite estrangement through my high school years and college, I hoped for a reconciliation of those differences. I hadn’t allowed for premature death in my planning.
• Dad had a sister, Ruth, who was impossible to read, like a clock with no hands. She generally tittered no matter what was said. She married and they had one son who I rarely saw. Visits between my family and Dad’s sister’s family occurred about once every two years. At his sister’s home.
• My mother’s parents were both third generation German immigrants. Farming was what they knew, although my grandfather and some of his cousins had other forms of employment. One cousin owned a “Red and White” grocery in the 500 resident town I grew up in. Connections and cooperation focussed on planting and harvesting crops. Very large reunions occurred every year. I knew almost no one.
My mother, Lucille Seigworth, was the oldest of four children. A younger sister whom she envied, and two younger brothers. Mom was head smart, starting grade school in third grade. That age difference and level of emotional development set her apart from her classmates. It seemed to imprint her with a “different than” identity. That became “better than” so my older brother and I were not permitted to have friends come over after school, attend birthday parties, or go to sleep overs. Nor have birthday celebrations at our home! Deep down I think Mom, and maybe Dad, were ashamed by the small size of our home. About 750 sq ft, two bedrooms and a single shared bathroom (tub only), and small kitchen with a dinette tucked into a niche at the end of the kitchen. Bench seating for four (small people) and a chair nearest the kitchen which Mom used. An unconditioned attic, and a partially finished basement where Mom did laundry, our coal furnace sat imposingly, and a pedal organ which her dad had rehabilitated, including the bellows. Mom loved music. She used to sing duets with her sister when young, and later played both piano and organ in her church and sang solos. Her church later in life became her family.
• Older brother Jerry was very obedient and never questioned any stipulations or onerous discipline. Once away from home, married, and with two daughters, he came to read our mother the riot act declaring she was to have no contact with anyone in his family, daughters included. They lived about 2 miles from our childhood home. And she never saw or heard from them again. As a side bar, he majored in Spanish in college and intended to work in foreign service. His program, to qualify him for that goal, required him to live for 6 months in a Spanish speaking country. Mexico City was his choice. When his fiancé heard about that she said that would end their relationship and she’d move on. He cancelled his plans and the fiancé became his wife. He quickly switched to Spanish Education and taught for several years before switching to the insurance industry. So much for riot acts.
• My 8 year younger brother Jeffrey was really the odd man out. Brother Jerry was out of the house by the time Jeff turned 11. I went to college when Jeff was 10. Dad died when Jeff was 14. He tried to attend college but drinking and out of town concerts left him broke. Part time work as a union shelf stocker, nights, allowed him to room with friends from high school until he was broke and they’d kick him out. He’d move back home to sponge off his mother. Usually no discipline then sudden switches to breathing down his back. Arbitrary. I visited him in PA the Christmas before he turned 25. On a drive I asked of his plans. He replied, “If I live till I’m 25 I’ll probably settle down.” He didn’t reach his 25th. As a passenger in his friend’s family’s brand new Buick station wagon, the friend list control sending the car down a mountainside. His friend was mostly okay. Jeff was brain dead and the plug was pulled two days later.
So, Karen, as I said at the outset, our closeness with certain family members differs markedly. My brother still lives with his wife in PA. Mother plus her siblings also long gone. I’ve regained a connection with my niece, Jerry’s younger daughter, who plays violin in the Naples Philharmonic Orchestra, as well as her husband who plays viola. The increasingly dire hurricanes this year and probably worsening with global warming has them ready to sell their home and move to Baltimore where both have connections and opportunities.
You, and some others on Substack, have become my family now. I couldn’t imagine doing much better! All the very best on Dia de La Muerta.
Gary - my dad read your comment and his comment to me was, "that's not so different from my experience". He also didn't know any of his grandparents well and some not at all. His father before him didn't even know his own father, let alone anyone else from that side of the family, and his relationship with his mother and her family was also very thin. This reminded me how very important it was to my dad's parents and my mom that we be surrounded by family.
Thank you for sharing your story. I am grateful to have known my immediate ancestors. And I know that some of their stories were in so many ways much like yours. I also realized I left out others who have loved me, like the willow tree that grew in our backyard and held me in her arms so often and my first dog, Honey, who certainly mothered me through my younger years. I'm glad you've found your way to family now.
I have taken note of the Cicero quote. Being the keeper of other's existence is something I feel strongly. When I am gone, will they no longer exist? I find that unacceptable. I feel their presence when I am making decisions and like to think that someday we may all be near future earthly loved ones,, casting light as needed. Though I only met one of my grandparents, I know both my parents felt loved as children and young adults which was passed on to me and my siblings. Such a blessing to be loved. To be raised with examples of how to be caring, as well as self-reliant and respectful. Aren't the names fun when we go back a generation! I have an Irish Beatrice (Be. at. triss), a French Jean (John), and a Norwegian Geneviève! And an English Herbert Walker! - (Who may as well have been a Bush from all accounts! lol ) Love so many of the pics today. Honestly took a breath when I scrolled down to that first sunrise! Can absolutely feel the cold and that light heralding the coming sun. And Yes! I do see the flames rising from that lapping bank of water!!! Right down to the glowing embers! That is pure magic!!! So many thanks for all that you do, Karen.
Ah, but of course they will exist and they do exist because they are carried in the energy of all those who come after, just as I carry the energy of ancestors I have never known. And yes, the names! I enjoyed playing with Ancestry.com for a little while and seeing who my ancestors were back a few generations. Thank you Sandy.
You had great family full of love and I felt enriched by them in my life too..
my father Henry was a music teacher and gave me the love of classical music and taught me to play flute, clarinet and piano
My mother Ruth loved gardening and birds and country music
They both loved nature and the outdoors and gave us the freedom to go exploring in the woods close to our house
My aunts and uncles (on my moms side) lived on farms so when we visited I learned about cows, chickens, pigs, gardens and crops
My aunts and uncles on my Dads side lived far away (1 a career military man and moved a lot)
I only knew one of my grandparents as the other 3 were gone before I was born and my one grandmother only visited a few times as she lived with her military son and family.
I had a wonderful childhood living in a small town. What a good life and I’m always thankful for 2 loving parents and brother and the life they gave us ❤️😍👍🙏
I remember your parents, though I only met them a few times. I didn't realize your dad was a music teacher! And that flute was passed down to me. Thank you for telling me about you ancestors too! Love you Aunt Sharon!
Beautiful, Karen. It is not always easy to sit down with good intentions and sift through memories. Finding just the right words to capture and embrace love blurred by time .Writing them down somehow makes each one more tangible, but just out of our reach. My mom and dad never spoke of Samhain, or a place or time when the veil is thin. Never a conversation about the unknown or unexplainable. Nevertheless, my one and only experience was born from a love that surpassed time, with wings. When my mom passed, my two sisters , my husband and my dad were about to leave the cemetery by limousine. I opened the door of the limo for my father. He ducked his head and was half way in, when a huge, beautiful dragonfly with a wingspan of about 6“ landed on his head.
I said to him; wait Dad , you have a dragonfly on your head, starting to reach up with my hand to lightly brush it away , he responded, no leave it there , it’s your mother. Time stood still. That magnificent dragonfly just sat there lightly fluttering its wings and then lifted in flight and was gone. He never remembered it happening. A few days later, I was cleaning out one of my mom’s drawers and hidden in the far corner , a linen handkerchief with an embroidered dragonfly. I showed it to him and he said he would like to keep it. He apparently gave it to her many years before. I searched to see if dragonflies have any symbolic meaning. What I found was that throughout history, as far back as ancient cultures, a dragonfly was associated with carrying the souls of the deceased to the afterlife . He never remembered it happening even years later. My sisters and I will never forget. I have never seen such a magnificent dragonfly again. They both taught me that our family was bound by love.
I love this story about the dragonfly SO MUCH! How incredibly beautiful. And I have had the experience a few times of someone saying something to me that they don't remember later, that's when you really know it was spirit speaking. Thank you for sharing this story with me.
We never had these conversations in my home (protestant upbringing) either, but I've had enough experiences (both waking and dreaming) to understand how real it is!
Being greeted by the first two photos my first reaction was, it's an inland ocean sunrise! My brain would not allow any other interpretation, definitely an ocean abet landlocked. And such a nice transition of the maple leaves from one fleeting week to the next - Autumn in all it's glorious too soon good-by no matter how we wish it would stay and visit longer. Loved the gull caught in it's full winged touch down and oh, those landing gear feet!
Today is definitely a honor the ancestors day. I never knew my maternal grandfather or paternal grandmother gone before I was born but they were kept alive for me through their stories by my parents and aunts and older cousins leaving me with longing to have known them. And Ancestry has brought to life my ancient ancestors in the 1600's - 1800's, although those ancient women of the family certainly did not receive their full due - their voices shadowy and indistinct. But I go through the lists of the long ago ancients and say their names.
It looked a bit like an inland ocean with those big winds! We don't get waves like that very often at all. The fishermen who were there when I got there said it sounded like a jet engine an hour earlier.
And yes, that is a great way to describe what I found on Ancestry. Lots of clear records of the men - though largely because of draft cards and military service - and much fewer for the women. I love that you say their names.
Karen!
Thank you.
Thank you Switter.
Thank you for the honoring of the ancestors. Dia de los muertas...has more meaning than ever for me.
I remember my Grandmother Severina...yes her name translated to severe, although she was that way only now and then...She left the convent in her late 20s and then married and raised 7 children during the Depression, feeding everyone including the hoboes who showed up at their door, no matter what. Resourceful and hard working lady.
I didn't know my grandfather whom she married and I heard he was a mild mannered man who when he spoke you listened especially his sons. I think I have that voice and it helped raising 3 sons on my own.
My grandmother Berniece, a farm woman who had the elegance of the higher born ladies. She taught me how make small stitches and how to take care of my cuticles. :)
And my grandfather Glenn, whose mother came from Scotland. He was fun as a grandfather and played mousey mousey with me, and I also heard he was a tough farmer again whom you listened to.
As I write this I realize that I have some tough ancestors who knew how to be heard. hmmmm....
Thanks for the opportunity to reflect and understand and appreciate...
Thank you for sharing your ancestors with me - and I love "tough ancestors who knew how to be heard."
Karen, thank you for all you shared in today’s post. Both images and words. Your listing of family members you considered “closest to you” took my breath away! What you wrote was both truthful and from your heart, and not what jolted me. Rather, your having this array of important folks and distinct memories of their teachings is quite unlike my own. Virtually none I felt close to! Often when I compare the experiences of another’s to mine, I pause to examine mine. Trying harder to look for parallels. My dip net came up empty today. I sense in myself envy and longing due to your memories that were not mine.
• I never met my father’s parents and don’t remember their first names. And know nothing about their parents or ancestry.
• My father, Ralph, graduated valedictorian of his high school class and wanted to attend college to study forestry. He also was an avid outdoor’s man. His parents, amid the Great Depression, couldn’t provide that financial help. He worked on a “wildcatter” oil rig, learned welding skills, then enlisted to fight in WW II. On his return he used the G.I. Bill to attend a two year trade school in Denver to study gunsmithing as well as making split bamboo fly rods and tying flies. To get full time work in that business would have required moving to a much larger town, with many hunters in the area. Guess what?! Mom would have none of that, yet constantly complained how she hated living where she was. So dad worked for $1 per hour at a farm and feed store. Government surplus food comprised a helpful part of our diet. Three vacant lots on either side of our house were purchased (no idea how), and were cleared by my brother and I at a young age. Major gardening ensued. Mom knew all the measures for food processing and preserving from her own mom. Rachel Carson’s “Silent Spring” set us on a course to garden organically. Dad found work at an Owens-Illinois glass container factory near our home. He worked his way up from tough entry level assignments to finally having a position in the machine shop where his gunsmithing skills with precision machining and fastening came into play. He was on call for any equipment breakdowns that occurred outside of regular 8:00-4:30 hours. If called he had to clock in less than 20 minutes after being called. So much for sleep hygiene. Just after I graduated college, he at age 55 died of a heart attack. Despite estrangement through my high school years and college, I hoped for a reconciliation of those differences. I hadn’t allowed for premature death in my planning.
• Dad had a sister, Ruth, who was impossible to read, like a clock with no hands. She generally tittered no matter what was said. She married and they had one son who I rarely saw. Visits between my family and Dad’s sister’s family occurred about once every two years. At his sister’s home.
• My mother’s parents were both third generation German immigrants. Farming was what they knew, although my grandfather and some of his cousins had other forms of employment. One cousin owned a “Red and White” grocery in the 500 resident town I grew up in. Connections and cooperation focussed on planting and harvesting crops. Very large reunions occurred every year. I knew almost no one.
My mother, Lucille Seigworth, was the oldest of four children. A younger sister whom she envied, and two younger brothers. Mom was head smart, starting grade school in third grade. That age difference and level of emotional development set her apart from her classmates. It seemed to imprint her with a “different than” identity. That became “better than” so my older brother and I were not permitted to have friends come over after school, attend birthday parties, or go to sleep overs. Nor have birthday celebrations at our home! Deep down I think Mom, and maybe Dad, were ashamed by the small size of our home. About 750 sq ft, two bedrooms and a single shared bathroom (tub only), and small kitchen with a dinette tucked into a niche at the end of the kitchen. Bench seating for four (small people) and a chair nearest the kitchen which Mom used. An unconditioned attic, and a partially finished basement where Mom did laundry, our coal furnace sat imposingly, and a pedal organ which her dad had rehabilitated, including the bellows. Mom loved music. She used to sing duets with her sister when young, and later played both piano and organ in her church and sang solos. Her church later in life became her family.
• Older brother Jerry was very obedient and never questioned any stipulations or onerous discipline. Once away from home, married, and with two daughters, he came to read our mother the riot act declaring she was to have no contact with anyone in his family, daughters included. They lived about 2 miles from our childhood home. And she never saw or heard from them again. As a side bar, he majored in Spanish in college and intended to work in foreign service. His program, to qualify him for that goal, required him to live for 6 months in a Spanish speaking country. Mexico City was his choice. When his fiancé heard about that she said that would end their relationship and she’d move on. He cancelled his plans and the fiancé became his wife. He quickly switched to Spanish Education and taught for several years before switching to the insurance industry. So much for riot acts.
• My 8 year younger brother Jeffrey was really the odd man out. Brother Jerry was out of the house by the time Jeff turned 11. I went to college when Jeff was 10. Dad died when Jeff was 14. He tried to attend college but drinking and out of town concerts left him broke. Part time work as a union shelf stocker, nights, allowed him to room with friends from high school until he was broke and they’d kick him out. He’d move back home to sponge off his mother. Usually no discipline then sudden switches to breathing down his back. Arbitrary. I visited him in PA the Christmas before he turned 25. On a drive I asked of his plans. He replied, “If I live till I’m 25 I’ll probably settle down.” He didn’t reach his 25th. As a passenger in his friend’s family’s brand new Buick station wagon, the friend list control sending the car down a mountainside. His friend was mostly okay. Jeff was brain dead and the plug was pulled two days later.
So, Karen, as I said at the outset, our closeness with certain family members differs markedly. My brother still lives with his wife in PA. Mother plus her siblings also long gone. I’ve regained a connection with my niece, Jerry’s younger daughter, who plays violin in the Naples Philharmonic Orchestra, as well as her husband who plays viola. The increasingly dire hurricanes this year and probably worsening with global warming has them ready to sell their home and move to Baltimore where both have connections and opportunities.
You, and some others on Substack, have become my family now. I couldn’t imagine doing much better! All the very best on Dia de La Muerta.
Gary - my dad read your comment and his comment to me was, "that's not so different from my experience". He also didn't know any of his grandparents well and some not at all. His father before him didn't even know his own father, let alone anyone else from that side of the family, and his relationship with his mother and her family was also very thin. This reminded me how very important it was to my dad's parents and my mom that we be surrounded by family.
Thank you for sharing your story. I am grateful to have known my immediate ancestors. And I know that some of their stories were in so many ways much like yours. I also realized I left out others who have loved me, like the willow tree that grew in our backyard and held me in her arms so often and my first dog, Honey, who certainly mothered me through my younger years. I'm glad you've found your way to family now.
Maples ablaze! The blue jay looks joyous. Thanks Karen!
Thank you Victoria
Looking at your bird pictures, I have wondered what it would be like if I had wings and could fly. Never had that thought seriously before! Hmmm . . .
Oh, I know that thought - what a delicious, expansive thought it is!
I have taken note of the Cicero quote. Being the keeper of other's existence is something I feel strongly. When I am gone, will they no longer exist? I find that unacceptable. I feel their presence when I am making decisions and like to think that someday we may all be near future earthly loved ones,, casting light as needed. Though I only met one of my grandparents, I know both my parents felt loved as children and young adults which was passed on to me and my siblings. Such a blessing to be loved. To be raised with examples of how to be caring, as well as self-reliant and respectful. Aren't the names fun when we go back a generation! I have an Irish Beatrice (Be. at. triss), a French Jean (John), and a Norwegian Geneviève! And an English Herbert Walker! - (Who may as well have been a Bush from all accounts! lol ) Love so many of the pics today. Honestly took a breath when I scrolled down to that first sunrise! Can absolutely feel the cold and that light heralding the coming sun. And Yes! I do see the flames rising from that lapping bank of water!!! Right down to the glowing embers! That is pure magic!!! So many thanks for all that you do, Karen.
Ah, but of course they will exist and they do exist because they are carried in the energy of all those who come after, just as I carry the energy of ancestors I have never known. And yes, the names! I enjoyed playing with Ancestry.com for a little while and seeing who my ancestors were back a few generations. Thank you Sandy.
Loved all this, the honors to the ancestors, the wonderful photos and captions. "This is my favorite Substack," I often think.
Thank you Michael!
Always stunning, always a great way to start my morning.
Thank you Mary!
This was extraordinary! Love the blue jay as you captured the instant... and the shiny crow!
And your words of family--so good.
I miss my father's presence, but am grateful he revealed to me a love of study, reading, and writing.
And his cousin, Hilda, who revealed how a woman can be in the world.
Thank you, Karen!
Thank you Alison, and thank you for sharing your father and his cousin with me!
You had great family full of love and I felt enriched by them in my life too..
my father Henry was a music teacher and gave me the love of classical music and taught me to play flute, clarinet and piano
My mother Ruth loved gardening and birds and country music
They both loved nature and the outdoors and gave us the freedom to go exploring in the woods close to our house
My aunts and uncles (on my moms side) lived on farms so when we visited I learned about cows, chickens, pigs, gardens and crops
My aunts and uncles on my Dads side lived far away (1 a career military man and moved a lot)
I only knew one of my grandparents as the other 3 were gone before I was born and my one grandmother only visited a few times as she lived with her military son and family.
I had a wonderful childhood living in a small town. What a good life and I’m always thankful for 2 loving parents and brother and the life they gave us ❤️😍👍🙏
I remember your parents, though I only met them a few times. I didn't realize your dad was a music teacher! And that flute was passed down to me. Thank you for telling me about you ancestors too! Love you Aunt Sharon!
Love you too❤️👍