those unfamiliar pings…

MILDRED…

Sometimes I notice a feeling, an unfamiliar ping or see a fleeting image in my mind’s eye and I ask myself, does this belong to me? These sensations drive my ancestral research and creativity now.

She died before I could call her Grandma, so she is forever Mildred to me. The elusive woman who raised my mother and uncle on a farm in southeastern South Dakota and died in her late forties.

What would she have been like as a grandmother? On the left she is holding my Uncle Larry. I imagined me in her lap on the farm.

The mystery of Mildred’s life haunts me…there’s a time in the mid-1930s that she’s in Santa Cruz, California. I’m tugging on that thread to see what I can unravel.

Mildred’s Mom—NORA…

Nora Kyte Millette (1885-1940) was my great-grandmother. I layered my image over Nora’s…I think she’s rockin’ the big silver hoop earrings.

I’ve learned a lot about her life and her heartaches in the last few years. Nora has come alive to me through research, interviews, and Ancestry.com. During the mid-1930s, she made big sacrifices for Mildred, allowing her to leave the farm, go to high school an hour away in town, and live with her aunt and uncle.

Nora’s Mom—TERESA…

This is my 2nd great-grandmother Theresa Ringley Kyte (1858-1939). The resemblance is evident, we’re both in our late 40s in these photographs.

My mother always thought I resembled her side of the family. I didn’t think so when seeing pictures of Mildred, clearly I had to look further back to my great grandmothers.

When I see myself next to her I think about the commonalities of womanhood regardless of the time period. What did she dream about while hanging clothes out on the line for her family? She had ten children in eighteen years, that’s a lot of windy prairie clothesline time to be dreaming or worrying.

She is not the child that mirrors me, and yet when you put us side by side, there are definite similarities. It’s not in the shape of the mouth but the set of it, the sheer determination that silvers our eyes.”
― Jodi Picoult, My Sister’s Keeper

Grandpa’s grandmother—EMMA…

This image below is half my face and half that of my 2nd great grandmother Emma Agnes Nash Piersol (1871-1939). I didn’t think I resembled her until I layered these images.

She died just a few months after my grandparents were married in May of 1939. The depression, dust storms, and the lead up to the war must’ve taken quite a toll on her. These photos of us are separated by over 100 years. Emma’s far away gaze looks like someone who doesn’t want to be photographed or maybe she feels exposed somehow.

While researching Emma’s line last week, I discovered this about Emma’s grandfather.

I was born on October 12th and named my son, Ellis.

DNA

I know very little about…

my great-grandmother or my grandmother for that matter on my maternal side. Nora died in 1938 before my mother was born and my grandmother, Mildred died before I was born.

However, in this chapter of my tender, and profoundly inquisitive, middle-age life, I want to know more about the women I share DNA with. They’re a part of me, my mannerisms, my choices and so much more that I’m completely unaware of. I need to know more.

Who was Nora? Mildred? What did they love? What did they fear? What made them laugh?

Unraveling the mystery of who they were simply will not leave me alone right now.

My father died just over a year ago and I so wish we had videotaped him telling some of his favorite stories. When families start losing a generation, the stories often disappear too.

This Thanksgiving folks, ask the elders at the table to share their stories. Let the kids ask questions and record their responses. You will be so happy to have the assurance that these treasured stories won’t disappear and can be shared for generations.

Enjoy your time together asking about the good ole’ days.

Happy Thanksgiving!

PS To any Kyte or Millette relatives who might read this, please contact me. I would love to learn more about Nora and Mildred. I would be so grateful for anything you’re willing to share.