feel like crying: a hard day

[Alan H]

The freighting company just came and picked up three family portraits. They're going to where they should go, according to my mothers wishes...the DAR museum in Washington D.C. However, this is not so easy.

These portraits are very old. Katherine Piercy Romney halls portrait, with her sister, dates from 1843. It was painted by a very talented, but little-known American artist, Ane. Gibert. it is a truly lovely, exceptionally well-done piece of work.

Her grandmother portrait, Christiana Crocket (who married Robert Hall, there's my
clan Hall connection) probably dates to about 1800, possibly between 1800 - 1810. It's my personal favorite of the paintings, although artistically it's not the best of them.
The last one is of Christiana's father, Samuel Crocket. Samuel was about 30 years old in the painting, and it was likely done right around 1800, in Philadelphia. The artist that painted Samuel may have also painted Christiana, though Samuels painting is rather better quality than Christiana's is. Those two paintings are unsigned.

This is a $16,000 donation to the museum. That sounds like a lot, doesn't it? I'd better get a job soon so that tax write off actually compensates me for the costs of having the paintings restored, having the appraisal done (outrageously expensive) and shipping them to washington DC.

But you know, all of that is really irrelevant.

You know what's hard? I grew up with these paintings in my house. As long as I can remember, they are there. When I look at photographs taken when I was a baby, they are there. They hung in my grandmothers house, I can show you the photos from the 1950's. My mother treasured these things. In fact she was downright obnoxious and horrible about them as I got older. She used to threaten me with withholding them, as well as a mess of other family stuff. She really did not like my wife, and actually sold off or had melted down all of my grandmothers and great-grandmothers jewelry so that my wife wouldn't get it. In the family trust document that I read after Mom died...Dad let me read it a few weeks after mom died...it says right there, to have the family paintings destroyed, sell the frames and give me the money. The MONEY.

Isn't that a great, loving final gift to get from your mother? I was so shocked that she'd write that...actually DO it, that the gravity of what it really meant didn't sink in for months. She did that largely because I didn't have children and she could never understand that. Mom was a very conflicted woman. She loved me very much, but I wasn't what she wanted and expected, and the world changed around her while she never did, and I was a disappointment to her in many ways. So be it. This is my life, not hers.

So you see, these paintings are very much wrapped up with, and symbolize the difficult relationship I had with mom. To her, these painting WERE HER FAMILY....I mean they were not just "paintings". The ring with the Hall coat of arms on it was not just another ring. Katherine Piercy Halls jewelry was not just jewelry. They were, to her, like her DNA, part of her psyche, spirit and soul. They were tangible proof that HER family, unlike my fathers, had aristocratic origins...that HER family was part of the founding of the United states. That was part of her identity.

To me, these things, especially the paintings, are beautiful things that I cherish. They are a link to my family, a reminder of where I came from, a visible, tangible look into the past which makes me think about where I am going. I love them. When I look at them, I feel the continuity of time, and a glimpse into the interrelatedness of all of us. The silver tea service..no, and there were two of those. Who serves tea anymore? But these paintings, and all the geneological information...the letters from my g-g-g-grandmother to her son, the photograph of Uncle Reynold as a young naval officer at the turn of the century...that stuff? That's where I come from, that's a vision into the past.

But that was never good enough for mom.

Mom died in 1993. Dad did not carry out her wishes, and kept all fo the stuff in a locker in his retirement community. I knew it was there, he showed it to me. I think he did it because in his heart, he knew that mom had gotten bitter in her last years, and that the stuff was not "his'. I mean, she had made it plain to him, hundreds of times, that these things were HERS, not his. SHE was the one with Revolutionary War ancestors. When dad died in 1999, I brought the paintings and the silver and the geneological information home with me. I had my cousins (whom Mom hated) over a couple of years ago and I gave them a lot of the silver. What was I going to do with it? It's 150 year old silver for God's sake, it should stay in the family. As for the geneological information and the letters; here they sit. . Those letters and the family tree that grandmother and g-g-uncle Reynold drew out are on my desk right now. For years the paintings sat by my desk. I did some little damage to them over the years. One day, I knocked over Christiana's painting with my foot and put a 6-inch tear in it. I just about died when I did that. It felt like I'd kicked myself in the gut. I decided, right then, that I had to do something with them..they couldn't stay here any more.

So I spent a mint having the paintings repaired, cleaned and restored. They were always wonderful, they are now absolutely stunning. They are beautiful, heart-breakingly beautiful. They are fantastic. I had a good friend take both digital and medium-format color film photographs of them so that the images would never be lost.

And now, they are gone. The freighters took them an hour ago.

It's like Mom dying all over again. Does this all make her sound horrible? She wasn't. She went to every Boy Scout Court of Honor, she went to every band concert. She had milk and cookies for me at home every single day after school until I finished eighth grade. She loved me the very best way she knew how. She could never forget and never forgive...I could tell you stories, but she did the best that she could, and she loved her son.

You know, about two months ago I finally started looking into my fathers family background. Dad's fathers side has all been worked out back to 1610, or something..nothing much to do there. However, Dad's mothers side was a mystery. Turns out that there's a woman in North Carolina who's done a huge geneology of a set of families in her area, and there's Myrtle Viola Snyder, right smack in the middle of it. You know what? Go back a few generations, and three of dads ancestors fought in the Revolutionary War. Dad has a Scottish ancestor that emigrated from Ulster in 1730. His sons fought in the war. I wish that both Mom and Dad were alive to hear that. She wasn't the only one with roots.

I'm rambling. the paintings are gone, though the images remain. I will give copies of them, as well as the photographic negatives, to my cousins on Sunday. I will keep two sets, as well as digital copies of course, and frame them and put them up in my room. If my wife doesn't like that, then too bloody bad....it's MY room. But the paintings are gone.

Mom is gone. I only have memories, now. When I die, they will be gone, and those paintings will be another addition to a museum collection, and nothing more. Children who hate art field trips will stand in front of them and want to go outside to play kickball. Nobody will understand, and nobody will care, and the museum curators will appreciate them for their historical value and their monetary value, but they will not KNOW..

Goodbye, Samuel...samuel of the starched collar, and the gravestone in woodlands cemetary. Why is your lady referred to as your 'consort" on her headstone? Did you have another lady, were you married before? Is Maria really my g-g-g-g grandmother? Did it hurt you and was it horrible to bring your family to the city when yellow fevr swept the land, so long ago?

Goodbye, Katherine and Martha. I have photographs of you, Katherine. My god, but you were a beautiful girl, and an elegant woman. I know that my mother actually met you. Yur handwriting speaks of a different time; fountain pen on small paper, and a strong stroke to it.

Goodbye, beautiful, beautiful Christiana. What did the man who fathered your children do to you, that you had them when you were 16, and he was gone by the time you were 50? Why is he nowhere to be found in any of the records of Phildelphia or Alexandria? Did something awful happen to you? How is it that your son is listed as "fish inspector" in the 1850 census, and yet your family could afford portraiture when you were a young girl. I wish I could have spoken to you, had dinner with you, held your hand.

I will not forget, I promise.

[macwilkin]

Mom is gone. I only have memories, now. When I die, they will be gone, and those paintings will be another addition to a museum collection, and nothing more. Children who hate art field trips will stand in front of them and want to go outside to play kickball. Nobody will understand, and nobody will care, and the museum curators will appreciate them for their historical value and their monetary value, but they will not KNOW.

Alan, I am truly sorry for your grief and hurt at this time, but I must take exception at the last sentence in the paragraph above. There are many of us in the museum/historical field who do care about these artifacts, as well as the people they represent. Everytime I work at the Battlefield, I am surrounded by artifacts that represent a soldier "known but to God" -- I am their guardian, their "voice" to the many whom they fought and died for -- and I take that responsibility very seriously. No, I am not related to them by blood, but that doesn't mean I do not value not only their historical meaning, but the people behind them -- real people, ordinary people who did extraordinary things in extraordinary times.

Everyday I walk past a uniform of a Federal officer in an Indiana Volunteer regiment who was killed in one of the Battles of the Atlanta Campaign in 1864. Two of my great-great grandfathers fought in that campaign, one of them an officer. I do not have a photo of my g-g-grandfather in uniform -- but when I look at that uniform, I can relate. I have held these artifacts in my hands (with cotton gloves, obviously) and tried to comprehend the sacrifices these men made, what their lives were like, and most of all, why they fought and in some cases, died.

So please do not assume we do not "care". Many of us wouldn't be in the field if we didn't "care". I did not serve my nation in the armed forces, but I do so serve my nation, and those men, as a ranger and a historian by trying to make sure their voice is still heard.

Todd

[katmills2005]

Very touching story. I see the love and frustration in your words. I know none of this was easy but I think you will find it will help you to heal some of the hurt that is there. Many people will be able to enjoy the artwork now and that is something to be very proud of.

Be well and blessed.

Kat

[pdcorlis]

Alan H

Sorry for your loss, I can feel it in your words. Its funny, events like this can trigger strong emotions and congure up the past in a wink of an eye - and that is as it should be. Our relationships live with us throughout our lives in all their imperfect glory. In the end, your mother was the best mother she knew how to be and you are a living example of just how good a mother she was.

In Peace

[Alan H]

So please do not assume we do not "care".

Todd

Todd, you care. You care somewhat in the way that I care. I understand that, and value it. I am not insulting you, nor your passion for history, or understanding. I respect and value your commitment to passing along that understanding.

....But this is different, and mom would not agree with you and THAT is the point, today.

[cessna152towser]

A difficult thing to have to do Alan, and a heart-tugging read. I think you have done the right thing, preserving these pictures in a museum for future generations to enjoy while retaining photos and digital images as your own aid memoire. As Todd said above, museum curators do care about the background to these materials, as do many of the visitors. I am a part time volunteer at an aviation museum where I have set up a cabinet with a display of my late father's artefacts from his World War II service in the Royal Air Force. While I regret that I could not have kept these items at home, I can go and view them there when I want, and I have the satisfaction of knowing that others will come and view these items and thus learn something of our past. Sometimes when I'm over at the airport I will go into that room at the museum and sit facing the cabinet and it feels like my father is watching over me.

[David Dalglish]

A very passionate story Alan,I am sure that there is solice in the fact that the paintings will be enjoyed by many people over the next few years

[macwilkin]

Todd, you care. You care somewhat in the way that I care. I understand that, and value it. I am not insulting you, nor your passion for history, or understanding. I respect and value your commitment to passing along that understanding.

....But this is different, and mom would not agree with you and THAT is the point, today.

Alan,

But that is your mother's POV, not yours. And was your mother a member of the DAR?

While I regret that I could not have kept these items at home, I can go and view them there when I want, and I have the satisfaction of knowing that others will come and view these items and thus learn something of our past.

I am eventually planning to donate what items I do have from Lt. Williamson to the State Historical Society of Iowa's museum in Des Moines; sure, it will hurt to see it go, but just knowing that they are "going home" to Iowa where they will be displayed as a tribute to Iowa's sacrifices in the War of the Rebellion makes me feel good about it.

T.

[KiltedCodeWarrior]

Alan, my condolences. It is hard sometimes when a current event churns up memories and pain from the past. Comfort yourself with the fact that these were not destroyed and will be enjoyed and viewed by future generations, even if you Mom would not have approved.

[thescot]

This is the kind of day when each of us wishes to say something wise, something to ease the pain and alleviate the grief. But that is just not the way it is. I can't--we can't.

So please let me say how terribly sorry I am for all of it--the loss, the grief, the unhappy memories, . . . all of it. It simply defies explanation, maybe defies understanding.

The fact is, we all get one mother, and we never quite get over her. I hope you can dwell on the cookies and milk. In the end, they are really more important than anything else in the big scheme of things.

God be with you in your time of sorrow. I am happy to know that I might see your paintings one day when I return to Washington. And when I look at them, I will know what it is given me to know about them.