Posted by Kathleen Pooler/@kathypooler

 

“What a father says to his children is not heard by the world; but it will be heard by posterity.” Jean Paul Richter

 

In paying tribute to the memory of my own beloved father on this upcoming Father’s Day, I find myself digging into family archives to pay tribute to the father who fathered him, my Grandpa Paul.

Because love begets love and cycles through the generations.

The tattered journals pounded out  by my witty and upbeat paternal grandfather, Paul, for his daughter, my Aunt El, who was stationed with her husband in Texas during World War II are a tangible reminder of that love; a treasure of memories and a glimpse at the times in which they lived.

 

An Epistle of Paul to His Favorite Blond Daughter, Volume One , 1945

 

In 1945, seventeen years after his wife Edna had died, Paul detailed everyday life in wartime Schenectady in letters bound as journals to Aunt El. Her sister, my Aunt Ruth, enhanced these journals with her artwork and cartoons. He never stopped loving or missing Edna. But it seemed like he made the most of what he did have. Cherishing his four children, he’d recall little details of their lives as he knew it and as only he could recount:

 

“I remember when your mother and I had to be separated after being married for about three months.  I went but 200 miles away and, of course, corresponded regularly, but the four weeks I spent in Ithaca alone looking for suitable living quarters seemed almost a lifetime. So when young kids are separated I can feel an understanding sympathy for them.”

It helps me to understand the special bond that my father felt with his family; Grandpa Paul’s mantra “All for one and one for all” being the key to that bond.

As previously told in this post on Preserving My Father’s Stories, Paul, a traveling salesman for a printing company was forced to put his four children in a children’s home after the death of his wife Edna in 1926. Then the Great Depression hit the country in 1930 and they were forced to stay  for several more years. They were 12, 8, and 6 years old (My Dad was the youngest)  at the time of this picture and I can feel their pain. Every time I look at it, I want to hold them in my arms and melt their pain away.

Somehow, poring over these bits and pieces from the past, I feel I may be capturing part of myself. Maybe in discovering more about my father and his family, I can understand myself better.

 

Then , my 8-year -old  grandson handed my daughter, his mother this note written on lined paper one morning as he left for the school bus a few weeks ago:

 

“A Special Person

     I will always remember my (great) Grandfather! He passed away 2 years ago and I miss him so, so much.

  I will always rember his love and kindnes that he showed me. I will always have  a speacial  part of my heart that will hold the memarious.”

 

And I thought of all the love that ripples through the generations…

 

Fathers are so important.

 

Blessings to all fathers whose love and guidance echoes through the generations.

***

 

How about you? Do you have stories of love  about your father that ripple through the generations?

 

I’d love to hear from you. Please share your comments below~

 

 

Announcements: 

Congratulations to  Gwen Mayes. Your name was selected in a random drawing to receive a copy of Carol Bodensteiner’s memoir, Growing Up Country: Memories of an Iowa Farm Girl!

 

Next Week: Memoir Author Karen Levy will discuss her newly released memoir, My Father’s Garden in a guest post on “Finding Peace Through Memoir Writing.” She will give away a copy of her memoir to a commenter whose name will be selected in a random drawing.