Thoughts for the Grandparents among us

Just returned from a short jaunt to Ithaca, New York and for some reason, it was unsettling this time. I do not return often, as evidenced by my memory pile up. This time my purpose was to join my daughter and her family  for two days in order to show her the 'important' places of her birthplace and early years. 

I was born in Ithaca, NY in Tompkins County Hospital , on a spring day so many years ago. My parents were both born there, my grandparents were a mixture of born and emigrated, so it feels as if my roots are Ithacan. I went away to college, moved to Brasil with my firstborn son and husband, then returned to live another few years as an adult in Ithaca.

Returning now, after many years away, was enlightening and difficult. My discovery was that I like the Ithaca in my mind alot better than the Ithaca of the here and now. The old Ithaca had more charm and warmth . In my mind's eye, the places of childhood were larger, cleaner, farther from each other and incredibly unique. The house that dad built had a huge front lawn and a driveway that extended beyond normal ranges in it's length and curve appeal.

How can a new owner have changed something my dad built? Where is the beautiful Birch tree in the front yard? or the bay window he took so much pride in? or the field of goldenrod that bordered the side yard? How is it there are trees growing that are older than my children? and the redwood panel on the front gables is completely GONE?

Passing this homestead and moving on to drive by the one in which I had 2 of my 7 children was another shocker. First time by, we actually missed it! I had to go , get out at the beginning of the road,(we took a picture for posterity , of course!) and then reorient myself, driving slowly up Middaugh Road. Where was my pink ranch house??

 No way was that the right house! and yet, the number clearly indicated it was.

Groans from within erupted as Margie exclaimed, "it is so tiny!!!!". Of course I agreed, but at the time, it felt very spacious and lovely.



 Where are the pictures in my head? Do they even match the pictures in the mind of a 4 year old little girl who has them cemented as the Truth of early living? Well, if not, which is the true home? This ramshackle , picket fenced version, my sentimental, cozy HOME, or Margie's children's edition? Then there must be what Paul and Becca remember also, perhaps even different memories yet!

 Well, so much for the homes, but what about the woods? They couldn't have changed much, could they?

 

Surprise, surprise! My mind had recall of these roads being long, treacherous, scary and
dangerous to traverse alone on. I remember going with my dad on weekends to collect patio rocks from this very deep gorge area, often being afraid we would fall and nobody would know where we were.

Reality check:  Shindagin Hollow (Preserve? Forest?) is now one of the premier destination Mountain Biking locations on the East Coast, as evidenced by Margie's husband locating it on his GPS more quickly and accurately than from my memory.  He had discovered this trail on a trail guide map for he and the boys to bike while we wandered around by car. It was less than a mile up the road from my uncle's Homestead. As an aside, his house shrank too. :-)

What am I thinking now that most of my childhood, adult memories are all irrelevant and mistaken? Maybe they were just altered slightly from the real world by emotional impact or age or circumstances of life. No matter how or why, the Mind had a different story that the Reality. I have been thinking and thinking about this since my return and it has left me very aware of an application.

My application is for those parents (such as me, who is currently alone like a deer in the forest) who have adult children often bombarding us at one time or another with 'facts' about their childhood. This includes our parenting, our disciplining, their memories of our parenting, their joint comments about growing up....those of us with several children often even have a group effort at convincing us of some truth they recall vividly.

Well, well, if my mind can alter the facts of locations, homes, and entire roads so completely that I can drive completely by a place I lived for over 10 years....I am much more comfortable with those tales of woe, misdeeds  and oversights that my kids occasionally converse about. It used to make me feel so sad that I had such a lousy memory and was apparently such a poor parent. Now I am going to just smile, knowing that some day their own kids will visit homesteads and discover memory mismatching truths of their own. I'll be on Grand-Parenting:The Next Generation, waiting for them to catch up :-) .

If you are still reading , let me add one more thing, please.

We have recently studied the book of Ecclesiastes in church. There is a little verse in the middle of this interesting book of Scripture that says: "Do not say,, why were the former days better than these? For you do not inquire wisely concerning this." (7:10)

I fear that as we age it is all too easy to reminisce and remember fondly past times and experiences as if they were golden opportunities lost. There is  another verse later on in this book : "Remember your Creator in the days of your youth, before the difficult days come."

We are wise to heed this warning as we chat with our grandchildren, for our children have grown and are formulating their own parenting styles and making memories. Our legacy of grandchildren if we are so blessed, is to encourage these little people to Know their Creator God now. Times will become difficult ahead and the economy is the least of the reasons why this is so.