Write Family Stories

picture of extended family around a table in an album frame
image by Sean Lynn

“So many family stories lost,” I commented as we drove out of the cemetery in the desert of West Texas, “somebody needed to write them down.”

“That’s why we are doing the genealogy project,” Chris responded, “so they won’t be forgotten.”

That had to be the reason. She had already commented that no one else in the family was interested. But you never know when that might change.

When my mother died, I finally realized that I was no longer young, that the life I had known was falling away never to be retrieved. I found myself remembering those snippets of stories my parents had let drop but never fleshed out. Or maybe they did and I was not interested enough at the time to pay attention. There were hints of my dad brewing beer in a Texas Tech dormitory bathtub. That’s all I know of that story. Did he get caught? What were the consequences of brewing beer on a college campus in the Bible belt in the late 1940s? I don’t know.

My grandma told us (me and my cousins) of taking an iron bar and banging the head of a cat, killing it because it kept getting into her cream. Being sensitive young teens at the time, we were horrified, not understanding the self-sufficient farm economics of the 1930s; life was hard.

I didn’t write the family stories.

I didn’t ask for more information.

So many stories lost. Your stories may not sound like anyone would be interested in them because, they are what everyone currently alive has experienced. Ways of life change though.

Write the family stories.

What may be common now may be incomprehensible twenty or thirty years from now. Fifty years from now, someone may be writing a cultural history, or a school report, and your life stories could be their research. Publish them… or not, start a blog… or not, but at least start a file on your computer, or just a spiral notebook. Just Write them down.
Record the stories of the elders in your family or community and transcribe them. What was life like for them when they were young? What was life like for you? Studies show that children who know the family narrative are more self-confident and resilient and that the qualities carry on throughout their life.

You don’t have to do anything with them, just write them down. You don’t have to be a GOOD writer. Just don’t let all the struggles, emotions, and humor of the past get lost. It feels good to release those feelings onto paper. It is good for the soul.

Write the family stories.

Someone, somewhere, someday will be glad you did.

originally published at www.creativeprovocateurs.com on June 15, 2016.

Old Route 66

My folks and I used to travel US-66 (aka Route 66 aka the Mother Road) from Oklahoma City to West Texas once or twice a year to see family. When I became an adult and went back to see grandparents on my own, I-40 had come into being and I thought it was wonderful. It took two hours less time to get there; I could drive at faster speeds. It was great. I used it every single time and still use the interstate when I have business out that way. I have seen and heard journalistic pieces about old Route 66. It is advertised as a sort of tourist attraction but I hadn’t been on it since I was a kid… until yesterday.

I usually take food to eat or stop at a Loves or a Flying J. This time I wanted real food so I took the exit at mile marker one east of the Oklahoma Texas border. The town is called Texola. My family used to eat there sometimes.
Looking down the road into Texola, Oklahomaabandoned house
lived in house
Abandoned building

Did it occur to anyone what would happen to the towns once the highway bypassed them?  It certainly never occurred to me.

 

It saddened me to see grass growing in the middle of the old highway pavement of Highway 66.

 

Looking west down Route 66
Looking west down Route 66
Route 66 looking east
Looking east up Route 66

 

However,

 

Tumbleweed Grill

If you are ever out near mile marker one on the Oklahoma side of western Oklahoma/Texas border, and you are hungry, go into Texola, to the old 66 highway, and eat at the Tumbleweed Grill. People do still travel the old route and Masel Zimmerman is there to feed them. I ordered chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes and green beans, my favorite meal of all time.

She said, “It will take a few minutes, I have to mix up the egg batter.”

“Wait,” I interrupted. “I can’t eat eggs.”

“Alright. Shall I just mix up a flour and milk batter for you?”

Homemade food. I love the lady.

Masel Zimmerman
Masel Zimmerman

The walls are covered with her artwork that she also sells for the pricey prices that good art brings. She does acrylic paintings and pencil sketches. Near the ceiling, she has pinned all the different currencies that customers have brought her. The most distant currency she has is Australia.

She came here from Las Vegas nine years ago where she made her living as a portrait painter. She and her husband got tired of Las Vegas when it began to change, so they loaded up in a travel trailer and started driving east to Memphis, TN. The travel trailer broke down in Texola, Oklahoma and they never left.

I think I’ll take old 66 on the trip home.