Monday Moment - a Happy Memory

Some of you who have been with me for a while know that every year about this time, I tackle a project of writing down stories about one of my ancestors. For lots and lots of years, I had “Write the Family History” on my to do list – a project that proved too enormous and too daunting to ever actually do. Then Ray’s sister – who did set down a family history – inspired a way to break down the daunting into an achievable goal.

The whole history is too big, but if I take one person – or one set of grandparents – every year, the chunks of the elephant become more chewable. It’s been a wonderful process for me – and one that achieves goal status as it has a deadline of a Christmas deliverable to members of my family. My history of some ancestor is my gift to them – whether they like it or not.

So far, I put together a collection of stories about my father, another collection about my mother, and still another about my maternal grandparents. This year’s collection will be about my paternal grandparents, Eli Ives Crosiar and Mary Malinda Ogan Crosiar.

I never knew my Grandpa Eli who died ten years before I was born, but Grandma Crosiar was a fixture in the first fourteen years of my life. We lived in one side of a big old farmhouse built by Grandpa Eli’s father Amasa (who might be next year’s project) and Grandma lived in the other side. Like any kid would, I took Grandma’s presence for granted in many ways. And yet I was also aware that having her so close was something that other kids didn’t have – something unique and special.

As I’ve been thinking about how to portray Grandma’s history in our family, it’s the simple memories of my childhood that keep taking center stage. When I was little and all the other kids were in school, I loved being invited to join Grandma for lunch of rice and dark brown sugar. We often had rice and brown sugar for lunch on our side of the house too, but Mom always bought light brown sugar. Grandma’s dark brown sugar seemed like a far bigger treat.

Of course it would have been rude to ask if I could come to lunch, but I learned to engage Grandma in a morning conversation that might result in an invitation for my favorite lunch. It was a delicate negotiation. I could casually wonder what Grandma was planning for lunch. I could even perhaps remind her how much she enjoyed rice. But I couldn’t ever say that I wanted rice for lunch. That would be going too far.

From an adult vantage point, I can see just how transparent my ploys must have been, and yet they were given credence because no one ever doubted Grandma’s word. If she said that she had issued an invitation, then I was invited, and there were no more questions to ask. Grandma was well-regarded as a person who said exactly what she meant. Other stories will do more to reveal the firmness of character that was among Grandma’s most prominent features.

For now, though, I’m just enjoying the memory of a woman who allowed herself to be cajoled into inviting a little girl for lunch. I don’t often bring the whole memory of lunch with Grandma into focus – and I wouldn’t have now without my annual ancestor biography task. But I do think of Grandma anytime I use or buy brown sugar – because dark is still my choice!

May you bring a happy memory into clear focus this week – or maybe help create one for a little kid in your own life!