Is your grandmother still around or is she gone and forgotten? I spent lots of time with both of mine, but I never knew my great grandmothers as they died before my birth. I suppose you could say…nothing can be done about that…but that’s not true. From talking with my grandparents I learned more about their mothers. All it takes to preserve their memories is for me to record those conversations and tell my family about these special matriarchs who are part of our heritage.
I remember my Grandma Johnson (photo on the left with her husband William Marion, daughter Esther and son Clarence) who was born in Eureka, Utah in 1890. She had a great influence on my life. Short and plump, full of energy and hugs for all her eight grandchildren, we loved to visit her. When my mom was widowed in 1945, moving in with grandma seemed like a natural thing to do. I got the best of both worlds when she became my babysitter while my mom worked. We lived upstairs in grandma’s boarding house. During those years, she would tell me fascinating stories about her courtship with grandpa and her life in old Silver City, a bustling mining town in Utah now abandoned. Grandma recalled how her mom (my great grandmother) was a midwife and had helped deliver many babies born in those days without the convenience of hospitals. Grandma’s dad was a miner who died young leaving her mother a widow with ten children. That made three generations in a row of young widows in my immediate family. Listening to her talk about her parents introduced to me to my great grandparents that I’ve never met.
Years later, I sat down with grandma again and wrote down these stories that she had told me when I was younger. Compiling a story of her life complete with photos, I wanted to preserve her family memories for my children and future grandchildren who will never know her or her parents in this life. When I married and had my first child, I was able to take a four generation photo (on the right) of grandma, my mom, myself and my new baby boy. Dying suddenly at age 76 (soon after the birth of my first son), grandma was thrilled to meet her first great grandchild. I don’t want this special person to be forgotten. I want my posterity to know of her contributions to my life. If I don’t write her story-who will?