Florence: Forgiving our Mothers

Today is my great-grandmother Florence's birthday. She's not alive to celebrate, she died well before I was born so I know very little about her.

My last post was about healing from my mommy issues and that a large part of that was realizing my mom had mommy issues...as did her mother. So in this healing process, it felt important to know more about who she was. No one has any pictures of her hanging up, and didn't when I was a kid, but pictures of her do exist in the dusty old albums of our family so I went on a hunt to find some. I like this one. She looks like a great-grandma, and those glasses are fantastic.

My family loves telling stories of cherished family memories, a majority of them feature people falling down come to think of it, but man do we have some good ones! Ones about family pet heroics. Crazy old relatives, funny stories from my parents childhoods that I've heard so often they feel like retellings of old favorite movies. The imagery so vivid at this point, I feel like I've "seen" this one and it's a classic! They always are. That's why it felt weird to me there weren't many stories about Florence in the rotation. None really. And it's not like she died young or lived far away. So the mystery began.

A few years before she died I set out to formally interview my grandma and record the sessions and our conversations. We only did two because I was busy with life and thought there would be more time to ask questions another time. Turns out there wasn't and I didn't. I have regrets. Ain't that just the way. 

Mostly I was interested in my grandma and her memories and world views. I wasn't seeking out knowledge about her parents but it came up organically. From her stories I gather she was not fond of her father. To hear my grandmother tell it, he was smart and a mechanical genie. Inventing and building and tinkering. She admired him for that. Intelligence was a trait to be prized above almost all others to her. But that's pretty much where the praise dried up for him, and with good reason. The stories about him were not jolly and fun. 

There was the one kind of neat one about the time he made my great aunt as a child under 13 drive the moonshine truck so if she got pulled over by the cops she wouldn't get in trouble cuz she's a kid. Oh white-trash hijinks! Except the story goes on that one time she flipped the truck in a ditch and caught a beating for ruining the hooch. That same aunt once accidentally took an axe to the foot while chopping firewood and he literally told her to walk it off and refused to take her to a doctor. Don't feel bad though. He really liked her, my great aunt - his tomboy daughter. I think? I mean there are these stories that he was really good with horses, and she was really great with horses, so they bonded over that I think. Oh and also he used to gamble with other town drunks that his daughter could beat them in horse races. And she did! And he often bet on her. What a guy. 

To fill the time between tinkering and gambling, abusing his kids was another favorite pastime apparently because that behavior was predominant in a lot of the stories starring him. Hunger played a large role in my grandmother's childhood memories too. It was the great depression for context. Once her brother caught a beating from him for eating scraps out of the hog trough because he was hungry. He got the beating because the food was for the livestock not the kids. Livestock earns you money, kids don't unless they're good at riding horses. Grandma recalled having to rub his smelly feet when he got home from work while he was eating a summer sausage and she was so hungry but got nothing. His other favorite pastime was drinking. 

My great-grandfather was a peach. Florence was his wife. Second wife it turns out I found out on Ancestry. More on that later.

Florence didn't feature as predominately in my grandmothers stories, so she was still largely a mystery to me but I got the distinct impression from my grandmother she wasn't a fan of her mother. So what was Florence's deal? If her piece of garbage father got a little esteem for some intelligence, what was so terrible about her mother to muster no regard at all from her own daughter?

While on this journey to learn more about her I realized I couldn't go back and ask my grandma more questions, so I went to the next generation for intel. My mom and aunt. While combing through those dusty photo albums to find photos of her I asked for their memories of this woman with a crooked smile that matches my grandmothers almost exactly. My grandmother hated her smile. She thought it was crooked and downturned. My mom says the same thing about her smile.

There weren't many memories to share. She was a non-entity for the most part. 

Did she interact with you kids at all, I asked them. They had stories about Grandma Otelia, but not really Florence. Apparently not so much. The consensus from them was she paid no attention to her grandkids. None of them. She had no interest.

When asked what they remembered most about her it was that she was whiny. She complained all the time, was needy and was just a real whiner. That was the adjective that came up most often. As the dogs say, woof.

I then recalled the biographic information my grandmother recalled of her own mother, Florence.

"She had all brothers. They were French-Canadian and very catholic. She was pretty spoiled I think because she was the only girl and as a result wasn't prepared for life. She didn't work very hard or know how to do anything and did nothing to try and figure it out. She was pretty helpless."

That was it. That was the summation of her mother. Pretty harsh. Not a lot of sympathy. She had a sliver of admiration for the alcoholic abusive father because he could build stuff, but nothing for her mother, because she was lazy? It was cold. It was one of a handful of revelations that came out during our chats that really stuck with me as not what I expected to hear.

I was still determined to know more. Anecdotes were few, but maybe I could piece some things together by looking to the historical record. If my family stories were impersonal and sad, clearly census records from the turn of the century would be more warm and fuzzy.

I found her obituary.

Mrs. Florence A., 78, a resident of the St. Cloud Nursing Home, died Wednesday at the St. Cloud Hospital. She was born Nov. 12, 1892 in Becker Minnesota. She is survived by her children [all of them listed - SHE HAD ELEVEN!] and her [two younger] brothers. She was preceded in death by her husband Louis.

It ends with some details on the services. She's buried in the Catholic cemetery in Clear Lake. That's it. I know she died on a Wednesday. That was a detail worth remembering about her? I hate these style of obituaries. Most of them soulless markers in time. Here is a list of everyone still alive and where they live and if she had daughters they are listed under their husband's names. She died of a Tuesday. No. It was Wednesday.

These were the first details I came across about her and I was furious. That preceded in death business.

How does THAT MAN, the child abuser drunk who I guess could build stuff, warrant a whole sentence in HER obituary? You see, at this point, when she died, they were not married. I am sure they were officially divorced though I haven't found a record of it because he went on to marry a third woman in 1937 and father 10 more kids because the first 11 weren't enough?

Here are few more of the jaunty tales of Louis, my "great"-grandfather and Florence's husband.

One of my grandmother's earliest memories is of Florence telling my grandmother to shimmy up on to the porch roof and watch dad's pickup truck go down the drive and report back which direction the truck went. If he went left he wasn't actually going to town. He was going to that woman's house!

The woman he eventually married in 1937? No. Her mother's house. You see it's probably 1930 at this point based on when my grandma was born. Future wife number 3 is still a teen at this point, but her mom isn't. Bertha. Bertha's husband just died you see, and Louis is ready to help her move on. Nevermind that he has a wife and kids. Bertha's got seven kids too...all about his kids ages actually. They've got a lot in common? Clara is one of Bertha's kids. He marries Clara in 1937. After pressure from the town that he has to do the right thing because he knocked up Clara. There are also rumors he had more kids than just the documented ones from his marriages. Unverified and just the scant memories of my grandma recalling kids making fun of her for her dad's reputation. She's also one of the few kids from a divorced home at this point. She remembers being embarrassed and telling them he wasn't her dad they just had the same last name.

Remember the hunger stories? That theme continues. It's the great depression. Shit was dusty and sepia toned I am led to believe. Grandma remembers a time there were welfare rations or some sort of charity food allotment they'd been given, but they've just gotten word dad is coming for that food to take to Bertha's family. He hasn't been home in days, but he's coming to collect that food. Florence tells my grandma to take the food and hide it in a closet. She remembers there was yelling once dad showed up, and eventually her dad ripping open the closet door taking all the food, and leaving them nothing.

Despite the absence of stories about Florence I am still able to draw a fairly good picture. And the fact his name is in her obituary. A man she hasn't been married to in 40 years at this point? It pisses me off. They got married when she was 17 and he was 25.

Oh, and remember, Florence is his second wife at this point. I found his first wife's grave first. It's right next to his. On Ancestry I learned he had a first wife. She died young. I don't know of what. Maybe a Wednesday. They also seem to have had a kid. I find a baptism record in a LUTHERAN church in St. Paul. Scandal! His name is Marvin. I have no idea what happens to Marvin. I see a note from someone's tree he died too, at age 8, but have no source documents to verify any of this.

I will give it to him. Louis had some tragedy in his early life too. But then he married a 17 year old and proceeded to have kids pretty much every year from 1911 to 1932 with her. And started stepping out on her for sure by kid number 8, my grandmother, if not sooner.

We maybe found the answer friends. Why was great-grandma so distant and whiny? I dunno, she was exhausted by the 11 children she was not equipped to have? I have often felt I have no business or patience to have children. Too spoiled and selfish I guess. Maybe Florence had this realization about herself but she's catholic and a teenager so I guess I'll keep having sex with my husband and see how this goes. Not well it turns out. 

By all accounts, Louis was an outgoing and gregarious guy. He must have been pretty charming to keep making so many kids. I met a few of this children from wife number 3. Clara. They are now old and gray. They came to my grandmother's funeral. She didn't have much kind to say about family number two, but can you blame her? She's 13 when he starts family number two officially. They tell stories about Louis about how there was singing and laughter in the later years with him. He still drank but I guess punched the kids less when he got older? Maybe too tired.

Here is the thing about history. We have to fill in the gaps in the historical record and the fragmented family anecdotes. Sometimes while we have little to go on, we can still draw plenty from what we notice is absent. I had some facts from historical documents at my disposal, and some anecdotes colored by a daughter's traumatic childhood memories. 

Now what? So what? You might even be thinking - where is the witch stuff here? This sounds like freaking depression era Lifetime movie material, but not exactly witchy.

Here it comes. I don't know much about astrology. It's basically Meyer's Briggs but for Birthdays? (#Witchcraft=SpicyPsychology) But it was something to go on, and I had a birthday in her obituary. Worth a google, eh? 

I don't think Verla would agree with Eager and my mom and aunt would probably nix Cheerful

As I read through the Zodiac descriptors for this date trying to get an idea of who this woman was in the absence of anecdotes this sentence caught my attention: "If today is your birthday, you have a long memory. As the 12 November birthday zodiac sign is Scorpio, you don’t forget much and especially those who have done you wrong. A word of advice… Live and let go."

I don't know about Florence, but holy crap could that describe her daughter Verla. We joked that she was as vicious as a velociraptor if you crossed her so we called her Verlaraptor. Clever girl.

This bit caught me as well:

Forgiving people not only relieves your body of unnecessary stresses and burdens. Having anger and hatred in your heart will hurt you in the long run while the other person is living life without any thoughts about you.

I think the thing that strikes me is that Florence probably was disconnected. She sounds like she was depressed, and I don't blame her. Look at who her husband was. And the fact this so-and-so ex-husband made the cut in her tiny obituary still galls me. 

I have a hard time understanding why my grandmother had no sympathy for her mother. Her greatest crime was being spoiled? I wonder if deep down my grandmother was angry with her for moping about the failure of her marriage? Maybe she was thinking why are you sad about this piece of work? He beats us and steals our food. We're better off without him, and if anyone asks, he's not my dad. Verla was not a forgetter or forgiver. 

I'll be honest. I don't think I am ready to forgive Louis. I don't think he deserves it. If Florence was depressed it was because of what he did to her idealistic spoiled 17 year old heart. Florence doesn't need my forgiveness. She has my empathy. Verla needed to forgive her for being weak, and not as strong as she needed her to be. My grandmother took on a lot of the responsibilities of raising her 3 younger brothers. Building them toy cars out of the old coffee cans in the garbage. She was a tinkerer too. It would be hard not to have resentment toward a mom who you felt was absent or disinterested in you and your siblings, but um, she was going through some stuff?

If this horoscope stuff has a ring of truth to it, then it sounds like Florence was maybe caught in a rut of feeling sorry for herself? She couldn't forgive Louis for what he did to her, and as a result she had no relationship of any depth with her children? She was expecting to get swooped up by a prince charming and instead she cranked out a lot of kids with a drunk...a drunk who cheated on her. Yeah, I don't think anyone prepares their daughters for that kind of life. 

Maybe Verla was right. Get over it. Do something for yourself Florence! Which if that was her stance is rich cuz Verla rarely got over anything. I love her, but this was one of her character faults. I think the lesson from both these women is simple. One - let that shit go. Two - you're better off without him.

Speculation and conjecture at this point.

Here is what I do know. This picture of Florence with her mother is the only one I found where she is smiling so genuinely. Just a young mother and her mom. A mom who by all accounts doted on her. Some might even say spoiled. I really like this one. 

A lot of her photos she was scowling or staring off into the distance. She looks tired in a lot of them. 

Let that shit go Flo!

I was also attempting to locate where in France this branch of the tree comes from but haven't been able to make the leap across the pond yet. It looks like her family was in Canada, Quebec specifically for quite a long time before relocating to the states.

This new interest in my French heritage has now turned into a desire to learn more about Lenormand. Which is a specific kind of cartomancy that is French in origin, and unique from the traditional RWS Tarot system I am used to. A dear friend turned me on to the Magpie Lenormand version and I knew I had to have it. It's beautiful AND BLUE! And comes with a spirit board. 

I am planning to dabble into Lenormand. My understanding is it's better suited to specific questions and answers, and I usually do tarot for "general insights and meditation focus" so it's already kind of an adjustment.

So much to learn. So much to put together. Even if Lenormand can't give me answers I am finding some of my own, and learning lessons for the previous generation.

Lesson One: Let that shit go.

Workin on it.