A CAUTIONARY TALE

My maternal grandparents owned a lake cabin in northern Minnesota. On one wall of their bedroom hung a large photograph of my grandfather as a baby from around 1903. In it, he sat up on his own wearing the long gown commonly worn by babies in the nineteen-aughts. I was tickled at the idea of Grandpa wearing a dress.

I recently realized the picture was missing from the family photo collection and asked my mother if she knew of its whereabouts. Her brothers had all since passed away, and I assumed she or one of my cousins was now the owner.

The picture had been claimed after my grandmother’s death by Jack, the eldest of her five children. Uncle Jack had dabbled over the years in what he called “ancestoring,” and his collection of family papers and photographs included items inherited from both parents, as well as his father’s sister. They helped him with his genealogical work, but research was still painstaking in those pre-internet days. He later acquired an early version of Broderbund’s Family Tree Maker, but, by his own admission, “just sporadically pecked away at it.”

A life-long bachelor, Jack lived in California, far from family who lived primarily in the upper mid-west. In his late 70s, he developed dementia and died at the age of 81 shortly after being placed in a Marin County nursing home.

When notified of his brother’s death, my Uncle Bob inquired as to the date of the funeral. He was understandably shocked when told it had already taken place. He also learned that all of Jack’s effects had been donated or thrown away. These egregious actions added to the family’s grief by depriving them of the chance to say goodbye.

Also tragic was the preventable loss of a family’s history. Among Jack’s papers were a letter written in 1850 by my maternal 3x great grandmother to her husband in Boston, a letter of recommendation written in 1865 for my maternal great-great grandfather, and many irreplaceable photographs, including my grandfather’s baby picture. Had today’s resources been available to him, my uncle could have easily shared all these items, as well as his genealogical findings and the other items in his collection.

Like Jack, I have accumulated family records and ephemera. Making them available and getting them into as many hands as possible via the web means they needn’t disappear when I’m gone. If Uncle Jack taught me anything, it was to share what you have before it is tossed aside by those who are ignorant of its value.