The Carved Box

I spent a lot of time at the home of my Kingery grandparents. As I understand it, my grandmother basically raised me for the first few years...I also spent most holidays and summer vacations with them. I have very fond memories of my grandparents and remember well the Santa Clara apartment (cherry orchard across the street and my elementary school, Scott Lane, nearby) and the Tracy house at the San Joaquin River Club (with small fishing lakes, a "swimmin' hole" and plenty of paths to ride my bike). One of my favorite memories was of my grandmother's carved Chinese box that she kept in the den.

If memory serves me, my grandfather bought that box for her during a trip to Chinatown in San Francisco. My grandmother use to keep family papers and mementos in the box, and I loved going through it as a kid...was always careful with the objects, knowing these were somehow important. Tin types. Old letters. Pocket watches in individual cloth tobacco bags. I knew these things were important to her, so they were important to me. I understood, even at an early age, that these things were of my grandparent's past and therefore were also my past.

When my grandparents passed away, my mother inherited the carved box. I use to see it in her bedroom but I never opened it...I assumed that the objects I remembered so warmly were no longer there, having been dispersed to other family members. Prior to my mother's passing almost 10 months ago, she and I sat down to go through her things, including that box, it was indeed true--those objects were no longer there. Instead, it contained her own mementos and memories. The fondly remembered objects of my grandparents and those before them were gone.

Fast forward to last week. As I sat with cousin Susan going going through boxes and bags of my grandparent's papers that I'd hoped would help further my family research, I began to recognize pieces of that past. A tin type. A beautifully penned love letter from my great grandfather to my great grandmother. Masonic certificates enclosed in old leather envelopes. Apparently some of the contents of that Chinese box weren't gone, they were just waiting to be found again. 

So as the current caretaker of these remaining treasures, it'll be my pleasure to scan and share these wonderful pieces of our history with all in our family. And once that's done, those family treasures will return to that carved box, adding them to my mother's mementos and memories. Seems fitting. 

Grandmom's Search

My grandmother Blanche was never quite sure of her parentage, in spite of having a birth certificate with names of both mother and father. James & Almeda Meadley were the names on the certificate, however she considered her father Victor Vinson and felt that her mother was Nan (Howell) Vinson. What happened there is speculation on my part, and it's one of our notable "skeletons." With her having been raised by "Mommie Fairchild" (Minnie Fairchild), an older woman with no obvious connections to the Vinsons, only deepens the mystery.

In going through that box of recently received family papers, I found a stash of paperwork that was obviously assembled by my grandmother: her official birth records and letters written in the 50's to various people inquiring about the Meadley's, if they existed at all (in my research I've yet to find any trace of them). She was obviously trying to uncover the truth, unfortunately without much success.

I often think of how much my grandmother would enjoy this time, having access to technology and on-line records that would have made her search so much easier...well maybe not easier if the records don't exist, but at least a whole heck of a lot faster! I'm sure she'd be glued to the computer just as I am, reading, researching, and getting that adrenaline rush when stumbling upon the smallest fragment of information that leads to the next discovery. I'd like to think she's looking over my shoulder while I'm researching, pleased to know that I've taken on the mantle.

So I'll continue my grandmother's research in hopes of finding that elusive truth. It feels like I'm getting closer. I hope I'm successful. It would be my gift to her almost 40 years after her death.