Heritage

My mother was hospitalized yesterday as she has lost all feeling in her legs and feet and has become completely wheelchair-bound. They will be keeping her for a bit as they need to run tests to find out the source of her issues. In the meantime, my sister continues to care for my father and travel back and forth to the hospital. While I know I did my own caregiving stint in the first few months of the year, I feel once again as if I'm not doing enough. The weight of guilt is again heavy and stagnant and I feel every mile I'm apart from them. My heart just bleeds for all of my family.

As my thoughts reside with my folks, I'm reminded of my last post speaking of eating the beef that came from the cattle Keith's Dad raise. I think of the ever-worsening physical and mental battles my parents wage and so I remind myself of the hearty stock from which they came. Both of my parents come from a long line of self-sustainers; of proud farming families who fed their many children from the food they grew and raised themselves. My great-grandfather Abe Haught(pictured top left, who I just learned was adopted...there's an ancestry.com adventure in the making) was renowned for his bountiful gardens and orchards. He would not only provide for his family but for many of the neighbors as well. My grandparents on both sides had large families and lots of mouths to feed. While sometimes it was a mad scramble for who got what, no one went hungry, even in the worst of times such as the Depression.

My grandfather Rinehart(with Grandma Agatha at left), my Mother's father, would come home from a bone-weary day in the coal mines and head straight for his gardens. He'd work just as hard in those gardens but this seemed to be more therapeutic for him...as it would be for my Mom and Dad and as it is today for Keith. Grandpa Rinehart would also provide for many of the neighbors as well. Sometimes he would drop off fresh vegetables to folks and other times Grandma(pictured at right in later years as feisty as ever) would invite people to the house for a big party where she would cook up a feast from their bountiful gardens for everybody.



My dad's parents, Arzie and Grace(at left at 50th wedding anniversary), also raised their own food in gardens where all the kids would work. My Dad and his siblings have decades of memories of the gardens and of their mother Grace in the kitchen. Grandma Grace(pictured top right as a young girl), a gentle, soft-spoken woman was forever cooking in the kitchen, often ignored while Grandpa Arzie held court in the living room but I believe the kitchen is where she found her own personal comfort as so many in my family did and do. Her small smile was the same one she wore as a grandmother...I always felt she bore the weight of the world. The brief time I knew her she always made sure there were fresh-baked cookies ready for me. God bless her, she also made sure they were chocolate-chip even though she was known for her raisin cookies. I didn't have any of my grandparents in my life for long and I will always regret not knowing them better.

My parents continued with their own gardens. My mother's flower gardens were always lush and widely admired. My father raised a wonderful vegetable garden every year and we impatiently awaited the bounty from it every summer. Sure enough, Dad would bag much of it up to share with neighbors, friends and strangers alike.

As the trend which will hopefully evolve into more than a trend evolves celebrating heritage foods and the farm-to-table movement, I am reminded of the trials my parents, grandparents and great-grandparents weathered and the lives they enriched simply by growing their own food and being kind to their fellow man.

Watching my parent's struggles, I remind myself of what truly powerful human beings they have been and of the powerful lineage from which they came. I will just have to keep praying for us all to find the strength that's kept the family going for generations.