I am from Sandcastles and Horses ...

Wooden sink from DeKoning grandparents, used by Mom for her toys as a child and to hold china as an adult. A small carved cabinet created by her German great grandparent sits on top. Bob Hayek’s horse sculpture is next to his photo. Aunt Edith’s photo, Marion’s sister, is next to a porcelain piece from her home. The gavel was Carolyn’s thank-you gift from a leadership position at her church, but also a reminder of a common experience with her Hayek grandfather, law school and running for election as a judge.

I am From …

I am from sand castles and horses on the beach, two weeks each summer, near Seaside’s turn-around, Dad joins us on week-ends.

I am from Jello salad, Hamburger Helper, Betty Crocker cake mixes, Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, and homemade clam chowder, bringing the beach home to Portland.

I am from a tiny house, expanding to add a bedroom, dining room, shower, second toilet, and flower boxes, retaining clothes lines and the ancient cherry tree in a shrinking yard.

I am from dedicated gardeners, Mother’s soaring dahlias, Grandfather’s begonias, roses and fruit trees, harvested walnuts waiting for kids to shell and chop for cookies.

I’m from Sunday morning at the church of my grandparents, then pot roast and root beer floats at their home, returning another day to can fruit, children warned to stay away from the stove and canning jars.

I’m the child of Bob, who cherished his wife and children, after early tragedies, deceased first wife, long hospitalization, failed business, and sibling conflicts, grateful to wife Marion, and her parents, for the chance to “marry up.”

I’m from DeKoning grandparents, my grandfather lovingly caring for a wife with dementia, while also transporting his daughter and grandchildren for medical appointments and shopping, dispensing advice, and completing household repairs.

I’m the child of Marion, doted on and protected by her parents, reluctant to drive, possibly due to serious auto accidents of friends and family.

I’m from coupon-cutters counting up savings in the Sunday paper, driving around town for more copies, each child and adult in line at grocery with coupons and cans of frozen juice.

I’m from “Waste not, want not,” stories of starving children in China, required to empty my plate, a mother who sewed and mended, shopping at Montgomery Ward, Sears or Penney’s, never Meier and Frank.

I’m from practical theology, parents enjoying couples’ activities, Mom teaching Sunday School, but Dad advising it’s better to go along with religion, not think about it too much, and Mom removing me from a neighborhood Bible Study, when I was instructed to ask her if she was saved.

I’m from family roots in Austria, Ireland, Holland and Germany, books in German script displayed in my grandparents’ home, planting a desire to travel to Europe, implemented at age 19.

I’m from changing fortunes and mixed up careers. Grandpa Hayek graduated from law school, passed the bar, ran for and lost election as a Seaside Police Judge, taught high school English, followed by dead-end business ventures, leaving the family poverty-stricken and child protective services at the door.

I’m from survivors helping others, a Dad who graduated early from high school, began a bakery career, ran his own company, employed his parents and disabled brother, until economics forced closure, followed by other bakery jobs, before switching to real estate sales and early retirement, supervising his brother’s care until the end of his brother’s life, as he had promised his mother he would do.

I’m from a DeKoning grandfather who built and painted houses, and a college-educated mother, working sporadically as a secretary, while volunteering as a Scout and Camp Fire leader, March of Dimes solicitor, Arboretum docent, and craft group member.

I’m from wanderers and explorers, national park visits, picnics, trailer camping, parents who joined trailer and dance clubs, snowbirds for over 30 years, leading bicycle clubs and a chorus, and honored as King and Queen of their RV Park.

I’m from family treasures, lovingly reused, grandmother’s wedding dress, worn by three generations, footstools in my living room crafted by my great, great grandfather, a rocking chair by the fireplace from my grandparents’ 1900 wedding, my mother’s wedding ring now worn by my daughter, my aunt’s ring on my hand.

I’m from evolving lifestyles and fortunes, needing to downsize and let go. Young people prefer simple, modern lives. Who wants my grandfather’s 1892 Certificate of Naturalization, the carefully boxed wedding dress, a 1938 photo of a Painting Contractors Picnic, which includes at least 7 family members in a group of hundreds, the wooden sink cabinet containing my mother’s china and displaying her teacup collection, her barely visible childhood scrawl on the inside of the cabinet door proclaiming “This is my play room. This is my play house”? What about Dad’s horse statue that must have reminded him of the horses we rode on the beach?

The spirit of the ancestors surrounds me, along with its mysteries, conveying a sense of responsibility to carry their determination and generosity into the future, with or without the objects that have been passed on. No roadmap. We each find our own path.

Carolyn Hayek