Stories

It’s been a slow week at work, which gave me a lot of free time and a chance to transcribe some stories my grandpa recorded about his childhood. It is a delight to hear Grandpa talk about the world of his young life in Henrieville, UT and to hear him laugh about his experiences. My favorite statement so far has come from his description of a boyhood game he called Duck on Rock. He said, “I don't remember the particulars of the game, but I know that it always ended up in a rock fight.”

Grandpa also told of his first experiences with clay. As a boy, he used to gather the clay that accumulated on the sides of the irrigation ditch where silt would drop out of the water. Perhaps even then he was being prepared for the sculpting work the Lord would  have him to do.

Listening to Grandpa’s stories this week fit nicely with Pioneer Day. In Virginia, of course, it isn’t a state holiday, but the slow week let me watch the Days of ’47 Parade online. It was a delicious taste of nostalgia and Pioneer Day flavor in my far away corner of Virginia. It also brought back various memories: being roused at 3 am to claim a spot on the street to watch the parade (I don’t know if it was really that early; that’s just how I remember it); sleeping on blankets and sleeping bags after we found a spot while my parents cooked breakfast on a camp stove; other years of running the races, followed by wandering several more miles back and forth along the parade route (sometimes on tired legs; sometimes covering more distance after the race was over than I actually ran in the race); other years sleeping in and watching the parade online, but again having breakfast with family or friends.

They’re all good memories.

I also spent some time in the family history center this week, looking at old pictures and census records. Those records are like little tidbits of stories; tales in miniature about what life was like and the kind of people my ancestors are.

Being in a Colonial and Revolutionary Era town makes me think a lot about history. But in all the history that is here, I’m most grateful for my own heritage and stories from both sides of my family. My ancestors, grandparents, and parents have done so much to pave my way through life. Knowing a little about them helps me as I figure out my own work and write my own story.

I love stories. And I’m looking forward to more of them as the summer goes on.