I have been helping my parents move, and we were going through boxes of old pictures. Here is one that really captured my imagination:
In the center are my great-grandparents, surrounded by their nine children. They had a pretty difficult life. Both were immigrants from Germany to America in the late 19th century, and never really learned to speak English very well. They were poor. Hand-to-mouth, where-are-we-going-to-get-rent-money poor. And yet, most of their children did quite well in America. I think there is a real pattern among second generation immigrants. They are the children of daring, ambitious risk-takers who took on great sacrifices to forge a new life in America. Perhaps it is no surprise that the children of such people are driven to succeed.
My grandfather is in the back row, second from the right in the three-piece suit. He had an amazing life story. Forced to drop out of school around the 4th grade in order to help support the family, he never had many advantages in life other than being blessed with drive, determination, and a massive dose of raw intelligence. He worked as an errand boy and typist at a bank and was listening and absorbing what he learned. During World War I, he used that intelligence to get placed in a plumb position as the secretary to a General. After the war he gradually climbed the corporate ladder at the bank. When he retired in the 1960’s, he had risen to sit the Board of Directors for a Fortune 100 company.
My other great-aunts and uncles all had fascinating stories that I enjoyed hearing from my parents. As a writer, my mind was whirling with ideas for books. My great-uncle John (standing behind the priest, Father Ed) served in World War I, was gassed, and had to spend considerable time convalescing. By the time he was healthy enough to come home, his fiancé had married someone else. He never really got over it, and never married. I am so grateful I spent that afternoon going through old pictures when I still had an opportunity to hear stories about these people, most of whom I remember only as very, very old people at family reunions.
If your parents are still alive, I urge you to go dig out some old family photographs and start asking questions. You’ll never regret it.
Comments 1
I love family history–whether of my own family or other families. It is the real history of us, where we came from, how we survived the bad and the good. That those stories inspire me is evidenced by the fact that my first book is loosely based on one of our family stories!
We are getting ready to move my octogenarian aunt closer to my parents house. She has no one now, after losing 2 husbands and 2 sons. But she has a house full of stuff and so many stories in her head. Helping her clean out her house will, I imagine, result in much inspiration for future novels!