Wednesday, 6 May 2020

Telling the Story

Each and every life and time has its stories, waiting to be remembered, to be told, to be written or dramatized, to be put to music and dance, to be illustrated!

While no one knows what the literary world will look like on the other side of the COVID-19 pandemic, David A. Robertson (a Swampy Cree bestselling author of children's books, novels and graphic novels) writes that he is certain it will remain just as vital: 

Stories will always be important. I think they'll be even more important than they were before because of how we'll interact. We'll need more of them -- they teach us, connect us, create community, do all these things we'll need. And they document. There will be a lot of stories written about all of this. That's important too. (Winnipeg Free Press, April 9th, 2020).

I have tried to educate myself about my grandparents' stories. Most of these were transmitted orally or written in the family Bible or in small birthday books; some came through photographs haphazardly pasted into albums. How they even managed to keep these photos throughout their time of wandering the world and how they kept their sanity remains a mystery to me.

I wish I had more stories! And as I read the historical background and historical novels about that time (see my April blog post) and place my grandparents and my parents into that time period, I'm gradually beginning to understand what happened to them and to imagine how they must have felt.

Translating old letters and articles from German into English for people eager to know their family stories has also been helpful. Recently I transcribed and translated letters from Mennonite parents in Russia written to their young adult son who had just emigrated to Canada in 1926. There is so much love and yearning on these faded, yellowing pages sent from the parents to their child, so much longing to embrace him once again. I also translated a diary of someone's grandmother living as a refugee in Germany during WWII with her three teenage children. She is in survival mode and life is tough! So much courage!


Sample of one of the documents I translated

My grandmother and my parents kept their sanity in these turbulent times, times so difficult that they would rather forget them. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger" is a saying I heard quite often. And I survived as well but remember very little, probably because I was too young and my world too unsettled.

Now my grandchildren are clamoring for stories. They are at home during this COVID-19 time, trying to do their school work online, missing their friends. Sasha and I decided we would write each other stories and mail them. Our printer is broken and we haven't been able to get the right part for it at this time and so I needed to write my stories by hand. It occurred to me that my grandchildren don't even know how to read cursive writing, so I would have to resort to printing!


I had made a promise and knew someone was waiting, and so I began. What stories could I possibly write for her? I decided to write what I knew and remembered from the very beginning of my life. And so I began ... block printing on a sketch pad, and even adding little drawings with pencil crayons! It is no longer a chore but something I look forward to doing each day after breakfast.

As I write, I discover things about myself. My life has never been boring. I was thrown into this maelstrom of events before I was weaned from my mother's breast. I had no choice in the matter, as none of us do! My safety net was my family and as long as that remained intact I would be alright. My father, himself orphaned at a very young age, knew this, and did his utmost to keep us together. The only time we were separated from him was when he was drafted into the German army in January 1945, just before the war ended. He returned to us in May of that year, an emaciated skeleton, greeting a two-month-old daughter who was born in his absence.


The final stretch of the long road on which my father returned to us after his release as a POW


The biggest miracle in my life is that through all this turmoil we never lost each other. I believe this is what will come through in my stories for Lena Kate and Daniel, and for Sasha who asked me to write them. 

"Through memory, love transcends the limits of time and offers hope at any moment of our lives."                                                                    (Henri Nouwen, Daily Meditation, March 23, 2020)

16 comments:

  1. Oh my goodness, Elfrieda. That picture of the road gave me a jolt like an electrical current! He travelled on that road to return to his family, half starved, probably mentally and surely physically exhausted to be with his family. And until he was on his death bed at 92 his family was all that ever mattered to him. What a man. What a fortunate family!

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  2. I know! I felt the same way when Irma sent me that picture! The road leads to that farm where we stayed in 1945!

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  3. No wonder your granddaughter begs for stories. Yours are full of drama! I'm so glad that your father was able to survive all the challenges of his life and provide sanctuary to you and your siblings during a time of tumult. Great idea to be pen pals. I am doing the same with almost 3-year-old Lydia. At a different level!

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  4. How wonderful that you have the time and energy to transcribe and translate the letters, and to exchange stories. You say you wish you had more stories, but it seems to me you have retained so many important ones. What a treasure you are opening!

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    1. Thanks, Dora. So glad I do have the time and energy and good health, and memory!

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  5. Yes, I don’t have to invent the drama it’s all there for the taking!

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  6. I am reminiscing also as I write for the Preservings Magazine on the theme MENNONITES AND THEIR NEIGHBORS. It's amazing what comes back to you when one focuses on a slightly different level.

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  7. Sounds like an interesting theme, Shirley. Yes, it’s fascinating where the mind will take you sometimes when you make room for reminiscing!

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  8. Your post more than ever impresses on me the power of memory - and of story telling. It's what binds the generations together. And what a boon that you can translate from German to English; otherwise, some of the stories would be lost.

    The block printing is charming as is the delightful drawing. Your after-breakfast writing practice nourishes your soul and nurtures your grands, especially Sasha now. I am excited thinking about where all this curating of stories will take you.

    :-D

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  9. Marian, what it has done for me is given me back the joy of writing, where I actually anticipate doing it instead of thinking “I should be” doing it. My grandchildren are gifting me as much as I am gifting them!

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  10. You are in the zone, Elfrieda! And your grandchildren will be the good goads to keep you there. I'm so pleased to hear this. :-)

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    1. Thanks, Marian, I feel that you are a good and supportive friend even though we have never met! I remember reading your first blog post and wondering if I should connect. I’m so glad I did!

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  11. The goosebumps and wells of emotions I felt reading this, thinking of Oma and Opa and little Elly and all of you. The stories you share are an invaluable gift and as you say teach us so much, they are markers of our current and future memories and DNA, both of which are entwined so profoundly it it's near impossible to separate story from self. I better value the role my family has played kn my life, gaining greater understanding in my place and my own memories. And the lessons...we all learn those. I've recently read that when the River Elbe flows in the Czech Republic, summer water levels have dropped so low by global warming that 'hunger stones' have been uncovered these stones were carved boulders to commemorate draughts and warn of their consequences. One stone bears the inscription; 'Wenn du mich siehst, danne weine'....I feel like these stories of the past,of human brutality, causality of live and also the power in survival and celebration of deep struggles act as our 'hunger stones' markers of loss and an infallible belief that there will be someone to witness them. Oma and Opa kept those pictures and stories because of the faith they had, their belief in hope that there would be someone (perhaps many someones) who would hungrily want them. As always thanks for feeding us all Aunt Elfrieda.

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  12. Stacey, the “hunger stones” make my heart weep. What an image “wenn du mich siehst dann weine” brings to mind! Opa would have loved to hear you say that in German! He would give you a big hug. I’m giving you a virtual one right now!

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  13. Thankyou again Elfrieda for sharing these family stories... so vivid and poignant. Imagining dad walking on that road, coming home to his family not knowing what has happened to them while he was gone breaks my heart😢Our parents went through so much and still managed to keep it all together for their family😍 We must never forget that and continue to pass on these stories for the next generation!

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  14. For sure, Ruth! I feel a mandate to do it, and am enjoying it at the same time! Thanks for reading.

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