What do you remember?

I wanted to know.

After the Rain © Kathryn LeRoy

Hello friends,

Every fall, I spend a few days tucked away in the woods with my five cousins.

We have made this pilgrimage to a remote cabin for the past 30 years. From the moment one of us wakes and well past our good nights, we laugh, reminisce, cry, share the best and worst of our daily lives, and eat (a lot).

Hardly a year goes by without bringing up stories of visits to Grandma and Grandpa’s farm. My longing to capture as much as possible of my grandparent’s history has needled me as I grow older. I regret that I didn’t write down all the stories Grandma told me about her childhood.

You can’t always trust memories. I hoped my cousins would confirm what I remembered. To tap into our collective memories of that time and place I asked a simple question, “What do you remember?”

Our mothers were close, and we were all born within a span of five years. Holidays and summers gave us time to run carefree in the pastures and race down the sandy road to the gate playing out of sight of watchful adult eyes and limitations. With the farm as our playground, we discovered adventure in the most common places.

A two-wheeled trailer inspired circus acts. We stood on either end balancing until someone jumped off, which threw the others precariously in the air. We ran through the garden picking dewberries. The shade of the persimmon tree brought relief from the summer heat as watermelon juice ran down our faces leaving sticky trails on our bare legs.

Grandpa warned us about rats and snakes in the barn, but that never deterred us from sneaking in to grind the dry corn. The cows were onto our mischief and soon arrived for a chance at a corn husk snack. We snuggled baby chicks. Then hid behind the lye soap bench as those young hens met their demise and became Sunday dinner.

Our memories mostly centered on domestic chores with Grandma. We watched her bake cookies and kolaches without a recipe. She deftly buffed each egg to send to market. Her foot kept the old Singer sewing machine humming as she stitched leftover scraps of our dress fabric to make quilts. We never doubted her love or commitment to family.

Grandpa often frightened us with his big hands and the large butcher knife next to his plate of homemade bread and bacon grease. With his shouts of, “You kids get down from that hay stack!” we knew he was glad when we left. In spite of the gruffness, his laugh, sparkling eyes, and wavy grey hair, always welcomed us back.

All six of us have lived through our share of less than idyllic moments and trauma. In spite of it all, or because of it, an invisible bond prepared us to face whatever life brought—with resilience, positivity, and perseverance.

By the way, this time, I wrote down our stories.

Read more on how food and family make the best memories.

I discovered how happy childhood memories provide health benefits.

Musical moments for remembering from Barbra Streisand, Ed Sheeran,  and John Denver.

“What can you do to promote world peace? Go home and love your family.”
— Mother Teresa

“I sustain myself with the love of family.”
― Maya Angelou

Find a little wonder this week and create happy memories for those you love.

Our mothers with Grandma and Grandpa on their Fiftieth Wedding Anniversary.

With gratitude,

Kathryn

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