North Central Nebraska Photojournalism Photographer: A Family Tree…

I am not sure how old I was when my mom shared the Lionel Cartwright song “Family Tree” with me, but it has stayed with me for my entire life, even being played when I danced with my father at my wedding.  I draw strength from the words.  They are autobiographical.

One thing is for certain these are uncertain times
And this world in which we’re livin’ offers little peace of mind
We sail on troubled waters and walk on shaky ground
But there is a source of strength that I have found…

Over the course of the last week and a half, I have gone through a gamut of emotions.  It started with a simple text from my sister that I received at 8:50AM Friday, October 21^st.

 “I am sorry.  It’s Grandma, sorry to do this to you at school”. 

As the school bell rang, and my students trickled out of my classroom, I dialed the number with shaking hands, anticipating, yet still not ready for the news I would hear.

She was gone.

The tears fell, and in a frenzy that I can barely remember, I packed my things, rounded up my family, and headed south to the home place.

After we arrived and the news sank in, my family sat down at the kitchen table.  We had to get a plan in place.  There was much to do. My mom, sister, and I headed to Grama’s house, knowing it would need to be tidied up for the family members who would start arriving.  Walking across the threshold of the house that day was intense.  The house, though packed to the gills with over 100 years of our family heritage, seemed starkly empty.  Every time I walked out the kitchen door, I expected to hear her voice saying “hurry back”.  But I didn’t.

There hangs inside my Grama’s house a picture on the wall
Of my grandfather’s father standin’ strong and tall
I stare into his face sometimes and gaze into his eyes
There’s just something there that helps me realize

There’s a family tree surrounding me
Reminding me that I do not stand alone
And in my darkest hour in my greatest time of need
I’m strengthened by the roots of my family tree

As we labored around the house, I realized that I had a sense of urgency to photograph the rooms.  I wanted to document them as they were in my mind, before the items started to find new homes.  I wanted to capture it in the way that I always remembered it.

Each room has a memory for me.

The office… a small, cluttered space that housed the materials needed to run the place and the guest book one was expected to sign if stopping by for a visit.  The entries date back to the 1920’s.

The hallway… an elusive, mysterious space that led to an upstairs full of bedrooms.

The bedroom where she nursed my grandfather when he was nearing the end.  The bedroom where she used to sleep before she moved downstairs…the one I was afraid of as a child because it had the door to the attic in it. The bedroom with a photograph of my cousin Cameron who died when I was 15 years old.

The bathroom with the western sunset’s rays streaming through the crosses on a wooden rocker, illuminating the quiet nature of a space that would no longer be used, spilling onto a bathmat’s wrinkles, left over after one last soak in the old tub.

I think of mom and dad how they worked hard to provide
Now I see how much they loved us and just how much they sacrificed
To know their love is timeless though we’re far away and grown
Helps me see that I am never all alone

There’s a family tree surrounding me
Reminding me that I do not stand alone
And in my darkest hour in my greatest time of need
I’m strengthened by the roots of my family tree

No one has ever accused this family of laziness.  There was no use doing anything that wasn’t useful, and time was to be spent being of use.  I learned very early never to utter the words “I’m bored”.  Anyone who has spent time on a real working ranch knows the sacrifice it takes to maintain this way of life.  The land, the stock, the work…it is part of my culture.  It is in my blood.  My mom and dad raised us to never be afraid of a good dose of elbow grease, and this house represents those values.

Even though her body is no longer here with us, this house contains the very essence of what it means to be part of this family.  It is a touchstone that I will forever be thankful for.  And to all my aunts, uncles, and cousins…please, hurry back.

If God should grant me children to raise upon this earth
I pray that I could teach them the measure of their worth
Not in terms of money or what they may achieve
But in being one more branch of the family tree