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"Of course, if I spent more time in libraries, the National
Archives, Family History Centers, or graveyards my family file would
be filled with many more of my relatives. For me it has never been about
the number of people in my file. I looked up the definition of genealogy
and the first definition I found was that it is "an account of the descent
of a person, family, or group from an ancestor or from older forms."
"What a better way to study my own genealogy than to hear about
it from my mother. To me genealogy is a way to get connected to the
lives and experiences of my own family. It is a living and breathing
history where I can see, hear, taste, smell and feel what my ancestors
experienced. I also have begun to transfer some of the audio tapes I
have collected into my computer as WAV files.
"Some of my favorite stories revolve around my mother's life
during World War II. My father, Robert Lee McEntire, was drafted and
trained at Fort Rucker, Alabama in 1944. My mother vividly describes
the house she and my father stayed in with other young couples. Rationing
and conservation along with the miserliness of their landlord, led to
a rule that lights in the rooms must be turned off at 9:00pm. Through
my mother's story I can see her 8 months pregnant, standing on top of
her mattress on the tips of her toes as she screwed a light bulb into
a base which was dangling from the ceiling to provide some light after
the mandatory lights out time. I can then see her scramble to reach
up and unscrew the bulb and hide it under her pillow when the owner
saw someone's lights on.
"I can also taste the watermelon that my mother and her friends
stole from the neighboring farm. I can see a group of beautiful young
women as they sneaked into the fields, carried away their ill-gotten
booty, and crept back to their house. Holding the watermelons above
their heads, they smashed the watermelons on the ground and scooped
and ate only the hearts of the watermelons. Through my mother's story
I feel the sense of satisfaction that their mission was accomplished.
I see watermelon juice running down their arms as they ate. During a
time when they were waiting for their husbands to be shipped off to
war, knowing that they may not come back, this watermelon story is a
moment in which they could still be carefree. My mother remembers this
as if it were yesterday. She recalls that day in detail and tells me
that is was the best watermelon she has ever tasted.
"After my father was sent to Europe, my mother came to Berkeley,
California where her family had settled. Riding on a bus into Berkeley,
my mother saw what she thought a Martian invasion would look like. Standing
on the all corners of an intersection were crowds of men and women in
overalls and hard hats going to and coming from the Kaiser Shipyards.
This was the first time my mother had seen women in jeans and the crowd
of workers all around her had a sexless quality to them. In my mind's
eye, I see a very surrealistic scene, like a stylistic movie shot in
black and white where the workers are drones as they travel to and from
their job. Her astonishment didn't last long as my mother worked at
a munitions factory during the war. I've never asked my mother when
she bought her first pair of jeans.
"The influx of people to the San Francisco Bay Area overwhelmed
the housing market. People lived in shanties, and lean-to's, whatever
shelter could be found. When my mother came, she knew the address where
she was to live with her family. As she stepped off of the bus and walked
to the address she had written down, she thought she had written it
down incorrectly as where she was standing was not a residential area.
Where she was going to live with her parents turned out to be an old
grocery store closed due to a lack of groceries to sell. It was considered
to be a prime piece of real estate and her family was lucky to have
the opportunity to rent it. I can see them showering where the vegetable
department used to be and cooking were the butcher had worked. I appreciate
all that my mother and father were able to provide. I don't roll my
eyes when I hear people say that times were tough. We live in a prosperous
age and we owe it to our children and our children's children to pass
on these life experiences so we all can appreciate what we have and
what was sacrificed to get where we are.
"My hope is that my granddaughter will be able to hear and appreciate
these stories from her great-grandmother. Although she is now only four
years old, we tell her these stories. Although she can't understand
or appreciate everything in the stories, she nonetheless listens to
them. I'm sure that she has already heard some of these stories multiple
times and, like every young person, thinks her great-grandmother has
"lost it." I know she will come to treasure them and draw upon them.
I want her to know her great-grandmother, not just as a nice woman who
dotes on her, but as a woman of strength and grace and intelligence.
"By sharing her stories, I have learned more about my mother
and my family than I ever could have from a book. So, the next time
an old-timer bends your ear and starts to tell you a story, even if
it is one you've heard a hundred times, do yourself a favor. Sit down,
look the storyteller in the eyes, and pay attention to what she is saying.
I promise you'll be amazed at what you'll learn."
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