Safe Harbor

This past Valentine’s Day I was remembering a favorite card my Grandmother Linley sent me when I was eight years old. It came in the mail from Kansas and was larger than an average card, all shades of Valentine pink, red, gold and white, a card that accordioned open to reveal a pink tissue paper heart, a card that made me very happy.

With so much happening in our country and our world, maybe it’s tone-deaf to share that memory. And yet, it keeps coming back to me, a persistent note on a scale telling me she is near still sending love. And she’s not alone. I wouldn’t go so far as to call them squatters, but my mind is a frequent Airbnb for several deceased ancestors.

Like many of us, I come from hardy stock. I am the great, great, too many greats to name, granddaughter of one of the Salem witches, Margaret Scott. A great aunt, who with her husband owned and operated a mortuary, flits in periodically piquing my curiosity. Charlotte Fox, a second cousin became a renowned mountaineer who survived the fatal blizzard on Mt. Everest described in Jon Krakauer’s book Into Thin Air. 

My Grandfather Linley was mustard gassed in WWI and ever after had to eat soft foods. He lost his business during the Great Depression. My Grandfather Algie, a doctor, re-enlisted in WWII as a medic leaving my grandmother, a former nurse, my mom and uncle at home.  Many of the men in our family served in the armed services.

In my wildest dreams, I could not have imagined what is unfolding in our country and our world, and I think it’s safe to say nor could my ancestors. My life has been relatively privileged. Lately, I find myself with a tenfold sense of gratitude for the roof over my head, the car I drive, my job, sustenance, freedom, while trying not to let my mind run amok about what may be coming.

My father described growing up during the Depression as a time when everyone helped each other out. And so can we in our time.

Sometimes remembering my ancestors helps me shift my perspective and stay grounded. They gave me life. Their heartbeats pulse through my veins, their strength and resilience are the sinews of my soul. I am standing on their shoulders and finding safe harbor in their lives and ever-present spirits. This Airbnb will always have room for them.