It is not what happens to you but through you, that truly counts. I heard that statement from a young age and took it to heart. It has been a guiding principle for my family as we navigate some of the trauma from our past.
My family is a blessed one. My grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins all lived within 20 minutes of each other as I was growing up - that includes both sides of my family. There are 14 cousins on my dad's side, and 11 on my mom's side. Our family gatherings were immensely fun and to this day we enjoy each others company.
We truly love each other and yet in all families there are pieces of our history that we have learned to grow from instead of allowing those items to hinder us.
Granny has a knife
My great grandmother was not mentally well. In a farming community, and especially one that has German roots, the pull yourself up by your bootstraps mentality is rampant. Mental Health is not something that is discussed or even acknowledged because it is viewed as foolish.
We do not know the full story with my great grandma but what we do know is that she grew tired of her children around the house. She would look for them with a knife in her hand when the responsibility of farming and motherly care was too much. No one was ever killed. My grandmother is the oldest of her siblings and she would hide with them in the house until her father returned from farm work.
I can only imagine the trauma that caused for my grandmother and it is no surprise that she left home with the first guy she was interested in. Her and my grandfather are together to this day, and yet we do not know when their anniversary is. There are no photos of a wedding and if we ask her for information she quickly quiets us and changes the subject.
Grandma is controlling in her relationships. She keeps a tab on all our details and makes sure we know what we ought to do. When her husband is out of line she makes sure we know about it - that conversation is always fun. We have learned to see what she is truly saying is that she cares despite all her efforts to oversee our lives.
Grandpa is no more
I never knew my dad's dad. Grandpa Owen passed away in a motorcycle accident when my dad was 17. He left 3 young adults for my Nanna to raise while she continued to build their multi-million dollar wholesale business.
My Nanna, being the industrious and strong woman that she is, went on to double the business over the next 2 years. Her example attracted the attention of a local widower and Pappy Stouffer married my Nanna with his two young boys. My dad became the oldest of 5 siblings but he was still the only son of Owen Sipe.
The cloud of Pappy Owen hangs over our family to this day. We have a thriving blended family and there are no quarrels amongst us - the cloud of what if is what looms in our psyche.
Pappy Owen was a go-getter. His personality lit up every room he walked into and when he set his mind to something, people followed after him. My Nanna remembers that and because she only had one son with Pappy Owen, the dreams, and desires from that relationship carry over to my dad who is just like his father.
Being our own man or woman
You could classify me as a momma's boy as I grew up. I was the quiet one reading books long into the night and stood there petrified before my father as he scolded me for not succeeding at the levels he knew I could.
My dad lost his dream of playing professional baseball. When his dad died, the responsibility of a household fell on my father's shoulders. When his high school coach cut him even though he was leading the team in batting average, my dad succumbed to the needs of the moment and gave up his baseball dream. Those dreams of professional baseball fell on me his oldest son.
Though I loved sports, they were never what I wanted to give my life to. My love of books, writing, and knowledge are the means by which I became the philosopher of the family. My mother encouraged that as she homeschooled me and all of her children from Kindergarten through High School - neither I or my siblings ever went to a public school.
Through my love of reading, and countless hours talking about our family history with my mother, my character developed. My mentors through High School were more likely to come through century old books than life. It's not that I was this strange Homeschooler, I just didn't relate to my peers or many of the folks that were 5-10 years ahead of me. The people I spent my time with were the Entrepreneurs my family was spending their time with. I enjoyed a Toastmasters meeting more than I enjoyed going to a party. My interest in finances allowed me to converse with the business owners in our church more easily than my basketball buddies who were spending $60 on their newest girlfriend.
I wrote a post 4 months ago called How Do We Change the World? In that article, I mention the books we read and the people we meet determining who we are in 5 years. That truth from Charlie "Tremendous" Jones counts as much with the inheritance from our families as it does it with the friends we choose to associate with.
I adore my immediate and extended family. The strength of my wife's family was one of the first items on my list when I was evaluating her for marriage. Because I adore them, the quality of my friends and the caliber of the books I give my time to are of the utmost importance. I do not wish to pass on the fear and micromanagement of my grandmother. I do not wish for my dad to feel he needs to live up to the ghost of his father.
We cannot always change how our family will react to the trauma they have experienced. What we can influence is what influences us on a daily basis. In turn, our standard can become their standard, and the lighthouse amidst the waves will direct them along the rocky soil they tread in this life.
Thank you for visiting.