In My Life

Thursday, August 21, 2008

Wordless Wednesday The Late Edition

Saturday, August 16, 2008

Music! Sweet Sweet Music!

I have my own particular sorrows, loves, delights; and you have yours. But sorrow, gladness, yearning, hope, love, belong to all of us, in all times and in all places. Music is the only means whereby we feel these emotions in their universality. ~H.A. Overstreet

Overstreet puts into words the mystery of why my taste in music embraces such a wide variety of genre and artists. Having been influenced at an early age by my father's love of Frank Sinatra and music of the Big Band era, during my teenage years I would have never admitted that fact outside of the confines of my yard. With age comes, hopefully, wisdom and I can bring Frank, Rosemary and Glen out of my adolescent closet and add them to my list of my 'salad days.' However, when I replay the highlight reel of the 1960s and early '70s the following 'vinyl' lp's come to mind:

#10 Donovan

Sunshine Superman and Atlantis blasted from 8-track in every van cruising up and down the street .. not to mention the parking lot at James Madison Memorial HS

#9 Tapestry

There wasn't a female in my circle of friends that did not know every word of every song on this album. And we all could not imagine Carole King 'doing it' with Neil Sedaka. EEEEWWWWW

#8 The Monkees

Before Laverne and Shirley's "Hassenpfeffer Incorporated" there was the Monkee's theme song and 'walk.' And everyone asked, "Do you know Peter Tork is from Madison (WI)?" I'm a believer!

#7 Joan Baez

This album made me realize the power of music as a medium for expressing thoughts and opinions. Joan Baez took music from beyond the beat and words to sing to a far more personal level. Music became a way to help change the hearts and minds of others - and maybe the world.

#6 McCartney

This album helped heal the wounds of not only the breakup of the Beatles but also Paul's marriage to Linda Eastman - Maybe I'm Amazed remains one of my favorite love songs to this day. Linda's photography ressenated with me and Paul's talents playing every instrument on this album was an amazement.

#5 Jim Hendrix

Awesome album ... there is nothing better when I'm in the mood for something loud, driving and totally rock and roll.

#4 Crosby Stills and Nash

Their harmony is unsurpassed. There are two albums that I continue to replace as the venue of music changes, my #1 pick and CSN&Y Four Way Street - lp, cassette, 8-track and now CD. They were a favorite but two other artists rate higher on my salad days list.

#3 Sweet Baby James

James Taylor and I have been together since high school. At my senior year talent show one of the two songs I sang was Fire and Rain. My husband played this same album during his time in the service stationed at Fort Benning Georgia so there are many memories tied up with Sweet Baby James.

#2 Abby Road

In addition to the music, reflecting for the first time the different paths each member of the group was taking, speculation of the meaning of John in white leading a barefoot Paul was rampant. Paul is dead and Is Paul dead ... it was my generation's "Amelia Earhart." One of the many memories I treasure of traveling with my mother, is the trip we made to the Abby Road Studios in St. John's Wood. I wrote on the wall in front of the studio then walked down the street to the famous crossing and took a photo of my mother in the crosswalk while I stood in the middle of the road with my camera. As they say ... priceless. I have this mental picture of Queen Liz, sitting in one of the many cavernous rooms at Bucks House, tapping her foot and softly singing along to Her Majesty. It does make one smile and I can't help but think ... I am amused.

#1 Beatles White Album

This album was such a force during the time of its release that the English department at James Madison Memorial HS added The White Album to its curriculum. Dissecting the words to Rocky Raccoon remains as one of my favorite class projects.

Friday, August 15, 2008

Parlez-vous Family-Speak?

Jeff Scherwinski, circa 1980. Photo in possession of Cindy Scherwinski; Bergeron Family Papers

Somewhere in my library of treasured research books, buried within the chapters and paragraphs is a sentence that forever changed my approach to family history research. While I cannot recall the exact quote, or give credit to the author, in essence it said that every family needs someone designated as the Keeper of Everything. Up until that moment, I viewed myself as someone who's hobby was genealogy. Now I came to the realization that I was more than just the person that everyone tried to avoid at family reunions - the cousin/sister/aunt ("don't ask her how we are related!") chasing people down asking for family event places and wanting to know who has the personal effects of great Aunt Ruby. I was now The Keeper of Everything in my family. This designation includes recording for posterity, the 'isms of our family. My father's contributions will fill an entire chapter all by itself.

But without a doubt, one of my favorite family phrases was uttered one summer evening by my son, Jeff.

Four generations circa August 1975

Left to right: Alma Polar Space, Cindy Bergeron Scherwinski holding Christopher John Scherwinski, Phyllis Space Bergeron. Photo in possession Cindy Scherwinski; Space Family Papers

It was apparent from a very early age that Jeff had inherited his Grandmother Bergeron and his father's artistic talents. There was no detail too small that would escape Jeff's attention, eventually making its way onto his drawing paper. I have always wished I could see the world through his eyes; I'm convinced that the colors are brighter and the miniscule loom large. To this day, I treasure time spent with Jeff. We share a love of music and all things celtic and he shows me the delights of this world that I might otherwise miss. During the summer of Jeff's tenth birthday, he found a Blue-spotted Salamander and kept the discovery to himself until he shared his secret with me but only after I promised not to tell anyone else (aka his brothers). Jeff wanted to keep the intrusion on the salamander to a minimum to insure that he (and I) could observe it whenever we wanted - which we did until the first frost appeared in early autumn.

If memory serves me correct, one of my favorite Jeff-ism's, appeared to have come out of the blue one evening at the dinner table, all though I'm sure he had been mulling this particular thought over for quite some time.

"Too bad Grandma Space never had any kids of her own."

What followed was a painfully detailed explaination that I viewed as the perfect opportunity to share my love of genealogy with my family. More than likely it was at this moment my children came to the realization that they should never ask the line of descent from any name, living or dead, that does not found familiar to them without expecting a long dissertation.

My delight in enlightening my family to the wonders of genealogy was met with a lot of blank stares, that deer in the headlights look I find oh so often at those family reunions. What seemed obvious to me - Grandma Bergeron is Grandma Space's daughter - just wasn't registering with Jeff. In the middle of yet one more way to explain why Grandma Bergeron was Grandma Space's child, Jeff interrupted me with the plea ...

"Mom. Just cut that in half."

Is it any wonder Art Linkletter made a bundle on "Kids Say The Darnest Things."

Monday, August 11, 2008

Dog Days of Summer

Photographer: Al Scherwinski

As a lifelong resident of Wisconsin, I look forward to the changing of the seasons. The move from winter to spring to summer to autumn and back again cannot be marked off any one specific day as we do a birthday or a holiday. It is the rhythm of life. The change from summer to fall is more than just a date on the calendar - it begins as a subtle, oh-my-gosh-when-did-that-happen change in the air. The sun makes its appearance a few minutes later each morning, the color of the late afternoon sun sets the stage for spectacular show of light at the end of the day. The sound of a cicada might go unnoticed among the crickets and the nighthawks - all signs of the Dog Days of Summer.

Sirius, the Dog Star, made its appearance, traveled across the sky and set, leading our ancestors to believe the star's heat, together with the sun, was the cause of the hot and muggy temperatures during late summer. The term Dogs Days conjures up images of white hot sunshine beating down on a parched landscape without a breath of wind. Dogs - prone to rabies were considered evil and possessed by devils - appeared irritable on the hot summer days.

But was it really due to the summers heat? Could it be that our ancestors misunderstood the lesson our four legged companions were trying to teach us?

Dog Days - I think the world would be a better place if we looked at our world from the eyes of our cocker spaniel's. To them it does not matter if 'the other side of the door' holds sunshine, rain or snow - the joy of being in just this moment is a lesson we can all learn from. How can you resist their invitation to join them in this wonderful dog day?

If I knew this was my last day on earth ... would I spend it cleaning and worrying about meeting deadlines ... or would I step outside - in the rain, snow, sun or dead of night - and enjoy a Dog Day?

How wonder-full if I could count it a blessing that when the Dog Star is starting its journey across the sky, I find myself utterly exhausted from enjoying a Dog Day ...

Thanks for sharing your day!

At the end of the day ... everyday should be a Dog Day.

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

One of the things I recall about summers spent with my grandparents, is the frustration of having to wait for the grass to dry before I could go outside. The frustration of having to sit in the house and wait for the grass to dry was, well, frustrating. Occasionally, I would sneak outside, hoping to get across the grass without getting my Keds wet and would end up having wet shoes, socks and feet for a few hours. If my memory serves me right, the joy of being outside was worth having squishy shoes.

Now when I make my way across that same stretch of ground, I have a pair of waterproof boots that I can slip on and not have to worry about wet feet.

Isn't it funny how something as simple as wet tennis shoes on a summer morning can immediately transport you back to a very special childhood memory.

Thursday, July 17, 2008

Congratulations Mom!

Congratulations! Earlier today I was informed that a program my mother and I wrote and presented to our Daughters of the American Revolution chapter was selected by the National Society DAR as one of the latest additions to the NSDAR Program Collection. The program, which was submitted to the Wisconsin Society Daughters of the American Revolution and forwarded on to the national level, will be added to the manuscripts section of the members' web site that can be downloaded and printed by chapters for their use.

The program titled Ojibwe Heritage was presented at the November meeting as part of the DAR celebration of American Indian Heritage. For my mother and I, this was sharing a part of our family history, claiming our heritage as Anishinabe which translates as "the original people."

According to their tradition and from recordings in birch bark scrolls, many of the Original People came from the eastern areas of North America, or what the original people called "Turtle Island." These original people traded widely across the Continent for thousands of years, and knew of canoe routes west, and of a land route to the west coast. Some of the first maps of the inland rivers and lakes were made by the Ojibwe made on birch bark maps and preserved by the elders along with the history of the original people, Anishinabe.

Legend says seven great "radiant beings" appeared to the peoples in the Land of the Dawn - the eastern lands - to teach them of the ways of life. These seven great beings established clans - or dodems - for the people of the east. The original Anishinabe were the crane, loon, fish, bear, bird and marten and the thunderbird.

After a time, the great beings returned to the sea and the people prospered - drawing on the bounty of the eastern forests and lakes. In these early years, one version of the legend said the Original People "were so many and powerful that if one was to climb the highest mountain and look in all directions, he would not be able to see the end of the nation."

Then came a warning from a prophet to the people: "If you do not move, you will be destroyed." The prophet urged the Anishinabe to seek out an island in the shape of a turtle; this would be their first stopping point. There would be six more, and each one would be revealed through a sacred sign in the form of a cowrie shell that first emerged from the great salt sea.

During their long journey, which lasted many generations, the Anishinabe encountered enemies and subdued them. At night it was said their campfires flickered like stars for as far as the eye could see. All the campfires were kindled from one sacred fire, which had been carried from the land of the rising sun and was never allowed to die.

At their third stopping place near present day Detroit, the Anishinabe divided into three groups and went their separate ways, with each group assuming a different responsibility for sustaining the culture. One pledged to safeguard the sacred fire, these people became known as the Potowatomi. Another group agreed to carry out major trading expeditions, these became known as the Ottawa. The third group who's duty was to protect the spiritual beliefs of the Anishinabe emerged as the Ojibwe. Before separating, they formed a confederation called the Three Fires, and met each year to renew their alliance.

Continuing westward the Ojibwe settled farther to the north, along the north shore of Lake Superior. After parting from the others, the Ojibwe continued to be guided by the sacred spirits. In time, a new sign appeared to them at another place of beauty and bounty, the strait where waters from Lake Superior rushed down to the lower-lying Lake Huron and whitefish choked the rapids. It was here the Ojibwe paused and established a village they called "Place at the Falls." This was not only a splendid fishery but also a hub of water-borne trade. French explorers and traders who arrived there in the 17th century called the local Indians Saulteurs, an adaptation of the French word saut, or "falls." This place became known to the French as Sault Ste Marie. At that time, the village had a permanent population of several hundred people, a number that swelled to two or three thousand each summer as Ojibwes and others from surrounding areas congregated there to fish, trade, hold diplomatic councils and join in ceremonies.

By the time the Frenchmen reached Sault Ste Marie, many Ojibwe were fanning out around Lake Superior. According to legend, those who ventured to the western end of that lake were again blessed with a vision. That sign appeared to the people for the last time at La Pointe Island, or Madeline Island as it is known today, where the Ojibwes founded a bustling village that emerged as the spiritual center of their culture.

One of the foremost scholars and researchers believes the migration of the Anishinabe began around 900 AD and took approximately 500 years to complete.

It is from this group of the Ojibwe that my mother's family descends. My great-great grandmother was a member of the Lac du Flambeau band, which translates to "Lake of the Flaming Torches." Early French explorers used the term to describe how the tribe often fished at night by torchlight. While my gr-gr-grandmother's name was been long forgotten, she is included in the early rolls of the reservation as the wife of Isaac Stone, the first white man to settle into this area of Wisconsin. She has been found listed as "Elizabeth" on a vital record but very little is known about her other than she died in June 1858 shortly after giving birth to my great-grandmother, Nancy Ann Stone. Elizabeth is buried in an unmarked grave in the village of Hogarty, Shawano Co, Wisconsin. On Memorial Day, my mother and I honor the memory of Elizabeth by placing flowers in the section of the unmarked graves in the Hogarty Cemetery.

My grandfather, proud of his heritage, made sure that this pride was passed on to his daughter and to his granddaughters. I credit this with helping to kindle and fan the flame of my interest in family history.

I am sure that both he, Grandma Nancy - and Elizabeth - are pleased to see that their story, which we continue to share within our family, is now part of a larger audience.