When an Elder dies a Library is Lost

Don't forget to gather memories for your Library

Greetings, Sunny Buddies,

The title of this week’s post stopped me in my tracks the other day, and a sizzle ran through my body. I decided to investigate why this resonated so viscerally for me.

For this week, I would like to share with you what unfolded for me. I hope it will encourage you to explore the lost libraries in your family. I also dream that we all keep creating memories for our families to appreciate, ready for when we move out of this time.

On the day of our Dad's funeral in 2017, my eldest daughter was in labour with my first grandson. As you can imagine, this was a critical time for us as a family. We were so aware that our new baby boy would not 'know' his great grandad, who was such a wonderful part of all our lives. Yes, at one level, Dad's library has gone, and yet it lives on in the stories we, as a family, remember and share.

I appreciate that I am a repository for memories too, and it feels vital to capture them now so that they don’t become lost. So yesterday, I persuaded my hubby to get my photograph box out from the garage. Way too heavy for me now!

I spent the whole of last night touching into memories of my childhood, my daughters’ childhoods, and then the grandkids’ childhoods. In the cosiness of the evening, I surrounded myself with my family and so many memories. It was such a lovely thing to do.

My Lineage of Singing

As I worked my way through my memory box, the theme of singing emerged as part of my library. My Dad was a choir boy at the Cathedral Church of St Mary’s in Edinburgh, and he loved to get up and entertain. Singing was always a part of family gatherings, and we were all expected to have a party piece. My Dad’s party piece was Mendelsson’s ‘Oh for the Wings of a Dove,’ and my Mum’s was the 1930’s popular song ‘The Isle of Capri.’

My goodness, it is all coming back to me as I am writing:)

I was lucky to have inherited a nice singing voice. When I was about twelve (1963), I had my first singing outside the family experience. The Newhaven Fisherwomen’s Choir invited me to sing with them at a school parent evening. (I was raised in the fishing village of Newhaven, which is now within the boundary of the City of Edinburgh. In the photo I found in my box last night, you can see the harbour and lighthouse

The elders in the Choir dressed me in a traditional costume similar to those you can see above. One of the songs we sang that night was Caller Herrin’ (fresh Herring), which was the traditional cry of the fishwives as they carried fish in creels to sell door to door. You can see the creel basket in the photo too. As I look at this, I realise that connecting with, and sharing, my Scottish heritage is also part of my wish for my Library. 

If you would like to hear a traditional version of the song Caller Herrin’, please Click here. 

The Cabaret Singer

During my teenage years, I sang in a Scottish folk group. Then in the 1970s, my sister and I joined a cabaret band with two brothers who were guitarists and singers. As 'Kaliban', we travelled around Scotland performing in what was then called 'Working Men's Clubs.' Not at all a politically correct term, now I would say!

Above is a photograph of us on stage. Being part of the group for five years was fantastic fun at that time in my life. My earnings paid for me to study at University. It was an excellent foundation for learning about teamwork, and the experience of performing on stage served me well in my business career. Setting up and taking down the 'kit' was the less glamorous part of being in the band. No roadies for us!

Please click here if you would like to listen to us singing 'I Believe' by Frankie Laine. This song was usually the last song we performed each night because of the big build-up at the end. Really cheesy, but I smile as I remember the applause.

This song's lyrics still resonate with me even now. I love how the words offer a profound sense of optimism that is still relevant in these times.

I believe above the storm the smallest prayer,
Will still be heard.
I believe that someone in the great somewhere,
Hears every word.
Every time I hear a new born baby cry,
Or touch a leaf or see the sky.
Then I know why,
I believe

Learning to ‘Bebop’

And now, coming up for 70, I look to my grandkids for my ongoing lineage of singing. At bathtime recently, my six-year-old granddaughter decided to teach me her version of ‘Bebop.’ We do this sing and repeat process. She gives me praise when I get it right and offers corrections when improvement is needed.

I love it!

Questions for this week

And so my friends, I wonder;

• What elders and their libraries do you cherish?

• When you look at your ‘photograph box,’ what themes flow through your life?

• Are you laying down stories in your library that capture your legacy?

As always, I would love to hear from you. 

Ann