Welcoming the Ancestors

Glinda writes:

I loved school when I was growing up. I buried my nose in book after book. I just could not get enough of that book and school learning. One of my favorite childhood gifts was the set of World Book Encyclopedias I found under the Christmas tree when I was in the 5th grade. By the time I was in junior high, my Mother had begun a college fund for me. Since I was good at school and Kirksville had a college, there was no doubt I would continue my education.

Education was a funny thing in those years and perhaps it still is in many parts. We studied things far away. It was as if important things like history happened to someone else, someplace else. We learned to speak a kind of English which was educated, meaning we dropped those colloquialisms that expressed color and gave distinction to the people and place which was home.

Perhaps education then was not so much about learning, as it was like a pair of scissors that separated us from the value and distinct stories of our ancestors, our families, ourselves. Every step of the way, we were less connected to our families and ourselves. Upon graduation, the most logical next step was to move away. I did at age 20 and did not return until I was 58.

Something happened to me these past couple of decades. Perhaps with young adulthood, the tendency is to center on oneself. As I aged, I began to see myself as a part of a long line of people who would come before and hopefully would come long after. I yearned for the distinct melodies of the voices of the older ones in my family. I yearned for the old stories. I yearned for the simplicity and wisdom embedded in every word. For some of my relatives, formal education had ended at a very early age. Yet, learning for living extended every day of their lives. When I think of what many knew, I saw an encyclopedia vast and beautiful. In some ways, it made my own education, which was extensive, seem paltry.

How could I reclaim these things? Many of the old ones were long gone. I began to see the limits of what I knew. I asked for help from the ancestors, who I believe still live around me, through me, as well as in others. I came home. I began to sit at the feet of any and all who might have snippets of information I might begin to piece together for the fabric of my life. Many of the memories buried deep in me began to return. I created an artpiece called "Mine" which honored those who have come before and their connection to me and my family. This visual includes copies of photographs put together in a way which resembles a quilt. I have placed it prominently in our dining room where those who came before are welcome at our table. We are dedicating the farm to reclaiming our heritage. Somehow, we are surely guided each step of the way.

Photo: "Mine" by Glinda Crawford, 2004