Record Your Memories

I recently mentioned that we held my mother’s memorial service on March 16. At the lunch afterwards, I reminisced with my brothers and cousins. Unfortunately, we are all getting older and our memories are fading. And the day will come when none of us will be around to pass on stories about our parents' and grandparents' lives and our own experiences.

That’s why I’m grateful that both of my parents wrote their memoirs.

As I mentioned in my January 4, 2016 post, Mama wrote for her family. Mama’s memoir is an easy read written so her children and grandchildren would understand what it was like growing up on a farm in the 1920s and 30s. She also wrote some shorter pieces about her life after the farm, although she left most of that to Daddy.

Daddy’s memoir is different. He wrote partly for his family, but he also had a broader audience in mind. He never tried to get his manuscript published, but that may have been his original goal.

In my opinion, Daddy wrote two memoirs and wove them together in one manuscript. One tells about the interesting things that happened to him (and us) during his adult years. I can see extracting and editing those portions into a book for a popular audience—if I ever find the time. The other one is an academic commentary on political, social, and geographical conditions in the Middle East, with some side comments on the United Presbyterian Church and its predecessors and successors. That’s the book Daddy was probably most interested in, but I find it rather dry reading. I’ll leave it to one of my brothers to edit that one—if they find the time.

Even if we don’t find the time, though, my parents’ memories have been written down and scanned, so they won’t be lost to their descendants.

That’s something we should all do.

Mama's First Easter in Heaven

Sunday will be my mother’s first Easter in heaven. No, that’s not true. Every day is Easter in heaven, and she’s been celebrating since December 15.

Mama donated her body to the University of Michigan Medical School, so there was no funeral. Instead, my brothers and I planned a memorial service to fit into our families’ existing schedules, which is what Mama would have wanted.

We celebrated Mama’s earthly life and death on March 16 at First Presbyterian Church in Holland, Michigan, where she sang in the choir for more than thirty years. That’s Mama on the far right of the picture.

There were several things that I found memorable about her memorial service. I’m very happy for Mama, but my eyes did tear up when the choir sang. As I looked that way, I noticed that Mama’s empty chair was draped with a robe and a stole. Afterwards, someone told me that they had looked for and used the robe with her number. I can’t tell you how much that meant to me.

Seeing the robe also affected my niece, Rachel, as she sang Mama’s favorite solo—“I Walked Today Where Jesus Walked” by Geoffrey O’Hara. When Rachel got up to sing, she noticed the empty chair with the robe and stole and choked up. She recovered by the second verse and made it through the third, as well, with one small falter right at the end. I hope she realizes how affecting her performance was.

I have the memorial bulletin with the skeleton of the service, but there were a couple of other incidents that I want to remember. One was at the beginning, where Mama’s pastor walked over to the baptismal font and poured water into it while noting that Mama had been a child of God ever since her baptism. Rev. Knieriemen said something like, “perhaps in a Presbyterian church,” noticed me shaking my head, and asked for the denomination. I was pretty sure it was Congregational but I wasn’t positive, so I was glad that my younger brother answered the question.

My younger brother also gave the meditation. At several points, Gordon said, “Presbyterians [or Calvinists] believe . . .” We were raised Presbyterian, and Gordon is a Presbyterian minister. But I married a Lutheran and joined his church, and we raised our children in that denomination. I even have a Lutheran minister for a son-in-law. So whenever Gordon said “Presbyterians believe” or “Calvinists believe,” the Camps and Ills all thought, “so do Lutherans,” “so do Lutherans,” “so do Lutherans.” When asked about it afterwards, Gordon said he thought Lutherans might agree but he didn’t have time to look it up and he wanted to make sure he didn’t misrepresent what we believe. That’s a worthy intent, but we still kidded him about it.

The only other glitch in the service came with the first hymn, which was “All Hail the Power of Jesus’ Name.” We grew up with the tune “Diadem,” and that’s what Mama wanted. Unfortunately, there was a miscommunication somewhere. The organist played, and the congregation sang, the more common tune “Coronation.” But it’s still a great hymn, and I’m sure Mama no longer cares which tune we used.

Memorial services are a good way to bring closure to family and friends, but there is no closure for Mama. She’s living an eternal Easter.

And that’s something to celebrate.



A Legacy of Memories

My mother died on December 15. She was 96 years old, had a good life, and was ready to go. She didn’t want to be here for Christmas, and she got her wish.

Mama left her family a number of legacies, including her love of God, her love of music, and her love of each of us. She also left us a legacy of memories.

I’m not just talking about the memories we shared, either, although those are important. She spent her retirement years putting together a family history, which she later updated, and writing down her own history. Her married life was included in my father’s memoirs, so she concentrated on her childhood.

Mama published a few memories and stories, but she didn’t strive to be an author. She wrote mostly for her family. The family history was widely disseminated among the Wagners, the Gugelers, and their various branches, and she shared her memoirs with her children and grandchildren. That was enough for her.

I keep telling myself that I should write up my own memories for my children and any grandchildren I may have someday, but I can’t seem to find the time. And that’s a shame.

Because everyone should leave a legacy of memories.

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The picture at the top of this post shows Opal W. Page celebrating her 96^th birthday. The others in the picture are my son-in-law Pete, my daughter Caroline, and my brother, Donald.