Talk Story
Shoot the breeze, shoot the bull, chew the fat, chit-chat, catch up...call it what you want but basically I'm talking about talking.
My family gathered together this past weekend to informally honor my grandfather's life and celebrate/mourn his death. I had not seen most of the members of my family in 7-8 years, so this proved to be an excellent time to catch up with everyone and reconnect. It was really great to spend a few moments with cousins, aunts, uncles and first cousins once removed or second cousins - however that works - throughout the day. A few of the people there I met for the first time, others I've known all my life and simply lost contact with. Since there was no formal activities planned for the day, we all sat around eating and talking. Most of that talking was a chance to get to know who my cousins are now. I found that even though we are all in different places in our lives now, inside we are still the same people and it was so easy to be together again.
There was one thing was missing from the no-morial, as my brother-in-law dubbed it, and that was my grandpa. Of coarse he wasn't there, after-all if he were there then we wouldn't have all been there. What I mean is there was little mention of him at all. My nieces sang one of his favorite songs and my sister put together a short slide show of photos of my grandpa and the family, but aside from that he was gone.
No one in my family felt the desire to share stories about my grandfather that day. Maybe they were unsure if this was the time and place for it, after-all there was so much tension leading up to this people may have been afraid to do something not previously agreed upon. Maybe they just didn't want to, it would bring up sadness and they didn't want to do that. Maybe people are just private and want to keep their stories to themselves. As I left my mom's house that night I was saddened by the fact that nobody wanted to talk about my grandpa.
In Hawaii they say "talk story". I love the simplicity of the word picture. People sitting around, telling stories about whatever. There is something about oral accounts of the past that simply grip me and make me hungry for more. I love to hear stories of things people did and said. I may not have been there to partake in the event, but the retelling can be just as exciting.
For whatever reason people chose not to talk story about grandpa, the ones who are truly hurt by this choice are the younger generations. My children didn't know my grandpa the way I did, and I didn't know my grandpa the way my aunts and uncles did, and they didn't know him the way my grandma did. Not sharing stories of my grandfather's life excludes the future generations of knowing him.
As the slide show of family photos played on the TV, people in the room saw photos that reminded them of things they used to do with grandpa. Quiet tears, giggles, and an occasional comment would be thrown out as pictures passed by. When that last picture of my grandpa faded out on the screen, he dissappeared from the gathering.
I looked over at Gabe and noticed he was crying uncontrollably. Tears had stained his shirt and he was barely able to sit. I called him to me, and he snuggled on my lap for the next moments. He said he was sad because he missed grandpa. I asked him what his favorite memory was of grandpa and he didn't have a single one. Gabe really only knew his great-grand father as a man in a hospital. He never went to the beach with him, heard his crazy stories, or saw him savor the moments when he was surrounded by family. Gabe really didn't know grandpa at all, not the grandpa I knew.
It is the responsibility of the generations ahead to teach the following about life and people in their time. I do wish my boys could have sat around listening to stories from their aunts, uncles, first and second cousins, and anyone else who could give them an oral history, a picture of who Mel Selby was. I'm challenged to do my best to tell my kids stories about my grandparents, and parents, and about myself and Matt when we were young. I am challenged to ensure that when my kids are asked who someone is, they have a story to tell.
My family gathered together this past weekend to informally honor my grandfather's life and celebrate/mourn his death. I had not seen most of the members of my family in 7-8 years, so this proved to be an excellent time to catch up with everyone and reconnect. It was really great to spend a few moments with cousins, aunts, uncles and first cousins once removed or second cousins - however that works - throughout the day. A few of the people there I met for the first time, others I've known all my life and simply lost contact with. Since there was no formal activities planned for the day, we all sat around eating and talking. Most of that talking was a chance to get to know who my cousins are now. I found that even though we are all in different places in our lives now, inside we are still the same people and it was so easy to be together again.
There was one thing was missing from the no-morial, as my brother-in-law dubbed it, and that was my grandpa. Of coarse he wasn't there, after-all if he were there then we wouldn't have all been there. What I mean is there was little mention of him at all. My nieces sang one of his favorite songs and my sister put together a short slide show of photos of my grandpa and the family, but aside from that he was gone.
No one in my family felt the desire to share stories about my grandfather that day. Maybe they were unsure if this was the time and place for it, after-all there was so much tension leading up to this people may have been afraid to do something not previously agreed upon. Maybe they just didn't want to, it would bring up sadness and they didn't want to do that. Maybe people are just private and want to keep their stories to themselves. As I left my mom's house that night I was saddened by the fact that nobody wanted to talk about my grandpa.
In Hawaii they say "talk story". I love the simplicity of the word picture. People sitting around, telling stories about whatever. There is something about oral accounts of the past that simply grip me and make me hungry for more. I love to hear stories of things people did and said. I may not have been there to partake in the event, but the retelling can be just as exciting.
For whatever reason people chose not to talk story about grandpa, the ones who are truly hurt by this choice are the younger generations. My children didn't know my grandpa the way I did, and I didn't know my grandpa the way my aunts and uncles did, and they didn't know him the way my grandma did. Not sharing stories of my grandfather's life excludes the future generations of knowing him.
As the slide show of family photos played on the TV, people in the room saw photos that reminded them of things they used to do with grandpa. Quiet tears, giggles, and an occasional comment would be thrown out as pictures passed by. When that last picture of my grandpa faded out on the screen, he dissappeared from the gathering.
I looked over at Gabe and noticed he was crying uncontrollably. Tears had stained his shirt and he was barely able to sit. I called him to me, and he snuggled on my lap for the next moments. He said he was sad because he missed grandpa. I asked him what his favorite memory was of grandpa and he didn't have a single one. Gabe really only knew his great-grand father as a man in a hospital. He never went to the beach with him, heard his crazy stories, or saw him savor the moments when he was surrounded by family. Gabe really didn't know grandpa at all, not the grandpa I knew.
It is the responsibility of the generations ahead to teach the following about life and people in their time. I do wish my boys could have sat around listening to stories from their aunts, uncles, first and second cousins, and anyone else who could give them an oral history, a picture of who Mel Selby was. I'm challenged to do my best to tell my kids stories about my grandparents, and parents, and about myself and Matt when we were young. I am challenged to ensure that when my kids are asked who someone is, they have a story to tell.
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