Sorry for the lateness of the post -- Technical difficulties derailed my original plan -- I Alone Am Left Behind

I alone am left behind to tell the tale. That is a very difficult place to be in. My mother died in 1992 and my father died in 2003.  My older brother died in 2010.  His son, my nephew Rich, will be 38 this year.  He and Allison, his wife, had a little girl named Rose.  On April 16, 2015, Rose will be one year old!!! Rich called me to tell me that they were expecting.  During that conversation, I made reference to a family story.  Rich had never heard it.  His father had never told him. 

I consider myself to be a Bard.  Traditionally, Bards were poets, chroniclers, historians, and story tellers.  So, I alone am left behind to tell the tale.  I am very aware of the fact that I am the keeper of the stories of my family.  My nephew has never heard them.  His daughter has the right to know about this side of the family.  Feeling all this very strongly, I have decided to write the stories of my family and put them in a binder for Rose and, of course, for her father.  He can decide what to read to her and when to release some of the more raunchy tales.  I am calling this project “Legacy Tales”.  My project for Camp NaNoWriMo next month is to gather what I have which are bits and pieces in various places, some electronically, some in manuscript, and to make it into a coherent set of stories. This is one of the first stories which will be in the book of Legacy Tales I give to Rose on her first birthday.

My parents met during World War Two, and they had a strange and delightful courtship.  When Dad wanted to marry her, he sent the engagement ring to her from San Francisco to New York City.  Mom was living at home with my Grandparents and many of her sisters and brothers.  The package with the ring in it came while Mom was at work.  Grandma let the sisters open the package.  They “oohed” and “aahed” and they passed the ring around and they all tried it on.  My Mom came home from work and they showed her the package and the letter.  She went on a tirade.  They had no right to open her mail.  When they found out what it was they should have left it for her.  They had jinxed it, and she was going to send it back, and they had ruined her life.  Then she went into her room and slammed the door.  She was on her bed crying when my Grandmother opened the door.  My Grandmother *never* apologized to anyone in my experience.  There was her way and the wrong way.  In this case, however, she apologized to my Mother, took responsibility for allowing the girls to open the package and try on the ring.  The question she asked my Mom before she left the room was:  “Are you going to make Charlie pay for what we did?  He wants to marry you.  Don’t punish him because we were stupid.”

Mom kept the ring and sent a letter back saying “Yes, of course, I’ll marry you.”  They were married in 1945, my brother Ricky was born in 1946.  I was born in 1956.  As I grew up, I loved Mom’s engagement ring.  I heard her story about what happened when it arrived more than once.  She told me I could have it when I turned 16.  After my “Sweet Sixteen” party, when I asked her if I could have it, she said “I’m not ready to give it up yet. When you’re 18, we’ll see.”  Note that my mother had been unable to wear the ring for as long as I could remember, having developed arthritis.  It sat in her jewelry box.  She let me look at it by turns.  When I was 18, I asked her about it.  She said “I’m not ready yet.  When you’re 21, I’ll be ready.”  Fast forward to my 21^st birthday.  I asked her and she looked at me and I knew she wasn’t ready to give it up but felt bad because she kept promising it to me.  So I said “Mom, when they plant you, right?”  She smiled and little and said “I’m afraid so, honey.”  Then she hugged me and we laughed and cried a little and it was all fine.  I had the best parents in the world and I miss them every day.  They would have adored having a great granddaughter, and they would have spoiled her rotten.  As the only one left alive of this branch of the Owings family, it is my job to give Rose the stories of her great-grandparents and the grandfather she will never meet (my brother).  I know this to be true -- parts I have lived and parts are the story as it was told to me by my Elders.

You can find me on Facebook on my personal page: 
https://www.facebook.com/cedarwolfsinger?fref=ts

And my company page:
https://www.facebook.com/CedarsProofreadingAndEditing/

I am also on Twitter:

@michelle owings-chri

LinkedIn profile:

https://www.linkedin.com/in/michelle-owings-christian-bbb7278

branded.me:
https://branded.me/michelleowings-christian