The Lens:
A couple of years ago, my sons gave me a gift subscription to Ancestry.com. I wasn’t sure how much I would like it, but it was certainly an interesting gift. Once I got rolling on Ancestry, though, I was completely hooked.
I knew some information about my ancestry, mainly from my mother’s side. Mom had always said we were direct descendants of Jose Francisco Ortega, the lead scout for the Portola Expedition and believed to be the first white man to see the San Francisco Bay. It is incredible how much information is on Ancestry. I was able, with some work, to trace my line back to Ortega.
With my new-found curiosity for the generations who came before, I became intrigued with the PBS series “Finding Your Roots,” in which Henry Louis Gates, Jr. researches the ancestry of people of renown.
I recently watched an episode featuring John Lithgow. During the segment, he and Mr. Gates talk about his father and his father’s mother. His father’s father died when he was young leaving his mother destitute with children to take care of.
John says he loved his grandmother, but she was a “tough woman.” He also describes her as angry, probably due to life’s circumstances. She was in survival mode, turning their home into an elder care home. To make matters worse, her children had to work there. He describes it as “a hard, hard life.”
The Refraction:
Going back to my own lineage, I was also able to trace the European ancestry on my mother’s mother’s side confirming what Mom had also said: that my grandmother was German and Dutch.
However, there was very little information to be found on my father’s side.
When I talk about my heritage, I usually talk about my mother’s side. But, when I think of my own identity, I was most heavily influenced by my father’s side.
His parents emigrated to the United States from Nicaragua and settled in Chicago. When he was 7 years old, his father died. My grandmother was left with 3 young children: my father, my 3 year-old aunt and 9 year-old uncle.
At her husband’s passing, my grandmother moved back home to Nicaragua. I don’t know all of her reasons for this, but I do know she did not like the Chicago climate. I am guessing, though, that as a single mom of three children, she faced extreme challenges in providing for her family. I am making the assumption she felt she would be far better off back home with the support of her large family.
Seven years later, my uncle received his draft notice for WWII. He was ordered to report or lose his citizenship. Not wanting that to happen, my grandmother packed up her family again, and, with her sister, moved to San Francisco, where she had another sister living at the time.
I thought of my own grandmother as John Lithgow talked about his. They both were widowed with young children at a time when women had little means to support a family. Strangely, I likely know more about his grandmother, than I do my own.
Though my grandmother had two sisters in San Francisco, she was the only one with children. She got a job at the Emporium to support her family. I am guessing it was not the easiest of lives.
My grandmother was not well off. But, was she destitute like John Lithgow’s grandmother? I don’t really know.
Like John Lithgow’s grandmother, my grandmother was tough. They were both survivors. Yet, I do not recall my grandmother being angry or bitter. Even when circumstances later in her life could have easily made the strongest person crumble, she persevered. A survivor.
I was intrigued by the similar circumstances of these two women and the very different temperaments each developed. One angry, the other not.
It was either my sister or cousin who once asked my grandmother why she never remarried. She was only 40 when she was widowed. She was about 47 when she moved back to the US. I have a hard time believing she could not have found a husband if she wanted.
Her answer . . . She never wanted to be told what to do again.
Many of us are thrown curve balls in life, some coming right for our heads. Some of us manage to duck out of the way. Some of us get beaned.
I am only guessing, but I believe my grandmother ducked.
I can’t know how she felt when she lost her husband. I have no idea how she felt as she struggled to support her family. But, I believe she ducked that curve ball, picked herself up, dusted herself off, and saw the paths before her. She could carve out her own path and do things her way, or she could go back to being a wife and mother at the beck and call of a new husband.
She chose to do things her way.
And maybe, there is the big difference between these two women. Yes, both did what they needed to survive. But, one did what she had to do, not what she wanted to do, leaving her angry at life. The other did what she wanted to do, then did what she had to do to make that to happen, leaving her accepting of her life.
As I get older, I see how life shapes our temperament. Still, I think it is less about the events of our lives and more about how much control we have over those events. Do we manage to duck? Or, do we get beaned?