Sweet Memories

Photo
The Natchaug River as it flows toward Diana’s Pool. Check out the stone wall on the opposite bank. Mother Nature did not build that wall. It begs the question, however: why did someone build it?

Pleased to meet you
How does it happen that you loose track of your aunts, uncles and cousins? Then it becomes just your cousins, their kids, and their kids. It has happened to me and I’m feeling the sadness and regret that it was allowed to happen.

Since June 11th of last year I have been with my mother’s family three times. Only one occasion was happy. The first gathering was for my cousin Claire’s and husband Bill’s 50th Wedding Anniversary. That was so much fun. They sat me at a table of relatives from both sides of my family that they knew I would not know. My father was not the first one in his family to marry into my mother’s family. As it was hoped, we all had lots of fun getting to know each other.

The last two occasions were funerals, unfortunately. My cousin, Shirley, lost her husband last September, and the last one my mother’s sister Irene (mother to Claire and Shirley) just this past week. Once again I found myself saying to people, “Hi, I’m cousin Beverly. And you are…..?”

When I was a kid we used to go to Ware, MA (where my mother is from) to visit family all the time. As a matter of fact, one July day there was only enough money and gasoline ration stamps to go to Ware—and not to the circus that was playing in Hartford. That might have saved our lives. We heard about the fire while we were visiting.

After the war there was more money available and we could go other places. I think this is when we started loosing the family ties. Then my dad died in 1956. My mother was of the opinion that the world should beat a path to her door. I recall only one other trip to Ware after that to visit.

There has been an up-side to getting to know my cousins all over again. We have entertained each other with memories of our childhoods. What we remember (we actually surprise ourselves sometimes), what the customs of the late 1930s and early 1940s were growing up in a French Canadian family in a town that had lots of French Canadian families. I however, grew up in a foreign land—Connecticut—and to make it worse, surrounded by farms. These memories have brought us such joy. It’s good to remember.

My mom (who was the one of 9 children) has one sibling left, my Aunt Olive. The only way they will ever visit each other, now, is through pictures. I will be exchanging photos by email with her son and daughter-in-law with whom she lives.

I want to say I will make every effort to get back to knowing my cousins on both sides of my family. I know that I probably won’t keep such a promise. I’m hoping that since I have not promised, there is no pressure to do it, and there’s a better chance I will get to re-know at least some of them. I don’t want it to be at funerals.