Comments on: My Wonderful Mother: Whose Memory Do You Carry? http://meredith-martin.com/blog/my-wonderful-motherand-whose-memory-do-you-carry/ "Folklore is the boiled-down juice of human living." ~ Zora Neale Hurston Sun, 18 Jul 2010 02:56:16 +0000 hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.0 By: Chris Baker http://meredith-martin.com/blog/my-wonderful-motherand-whose-memory-do-you-carry/comment-page-1/#comment-150 Chris Baker Thu, 23 Apr 2009 16:14:16 +0000 http://meredith-martin.com/blog/?p=109#comment-150 So true. and I hope that you always carry the fond memories. So true. and I hope that you always carry the fond memories.

]]> By: Christine http://meredith-martin.com/blog/my-wonderful-motherand-whose-memory-do-you-carry/comment-page-1/#comment-143 Christine Sat, 14 Mar 2009 18:44:40 +0000 http://meredith-martin.com/blog/?p=109#comment-143 My mother died seven days ago. I am trying to hear her voice in the fog of my brain. Meredith, your blog has helped me to cope just a bit better than I was. I will look for the book you mentioned and listen more closely to the voices. Thank you. My mother died seven days ago. I am trying to hear her voice in the fog of my brain. Meredith, your blog has helped me to cope just a bit better than I was. I will look for the book you mentioned and listen more closely to the voices. Thank you.

]]> By: meredith http://meredith-martin.com/blog/my-wonderful-motherand-whose-memory-do-you-carry/comment-page-1/#comment-80 meredith Mon, 01 Dec 2008 18:28:08 +0000 http://meredith-martin.com/blog/?p=109#comment-80 This comment comes from Tonya Taylor and was sent in an email: My Mother used to ask me whose voice I heard as I was doing things and making decisions. Back then it was what I thought was my voice; now I know hers is one of the many voices I carry. I think of my Grandmother when I am in a situation that requires patience and unconditional love; my Sister when inner strength is required; my Mother when self-sacrifice is needed; and the combined and unstoppable force of my Mother, my Grandmother and my Aunt Olene when I need a little impish energy and a tie to my Cherokee intuition. Those spirits are like voices in my ear, helping to steer me away from danger (but not mischief--they were rowdy women) and encouraging me to do the right thing in each situation. I am still me. I may still choose not to listen, but they are there regardless. My first three teachers, Mrs. Grimes, Mrs. Broyles and Mrs. Clawson STILL have an impact on my life every day. They recognized my abilities (and limitations I'm sure) and went the extra mile to keep me occupied in a way that would not just keep me busy, but help me learn. I read all the 1st and 2nd grade books in the 1st grade, the 3rd and 4th grade books in the 2nd grade and so on. They could have just had me sweep the gym (my 4th grade teacher did) but they made up educational games (this was the mid 70s) for me, let me sit on their laps (instead of in the corner) and helped me to grow in the proper direction. I know they are with me because I find myself trying to help get the best out of people when I teach. Without them and their extra efforts, I could have been just another hyperactive kid with issues; because of them, I moved into the "gifted" classes in Junior High and High School and went on to be the president of my student association in my undergraduate studies, run departments in 2 hospitals, make a successful go of my own business and am now in graduate school. None of this would have been possible without those ladies. Thank you! This comment comes from Tonya Taylor and was sent in an email:

My Mother used to ask me whose voice I heard as I was doing things and
making decisions. Back then it was what I thought was my voice; now I
know hers is one of the many voices I carry. I think of my
Grandmother when I am in a situation that requires patience and
unconditional love; my Sister when inner strength is required; my
Mother when self-sacrifice is needed; and the combined and unstoppable
force of my Mother, my Grandmother and my Aunt Olene when I need a
little impish energy and a tie to my Cherokee intuition. Those
spirits are like voices in my ear, helping to steer me away from
danger (but not mischief–they were rowdy women) and encouraging me to
do the right thing in each situation. I am still me. I may still
choose not to listen, but they are there regardless.

My first three teachers, Mrs. Grimes, Mrs. Broyles and Mrs. Clawson
STILL have an impact on my life every day. They recognized my
abilities (and limitations I’m sure) and went the extra mile to keep
me occupied in a way that would not just keep me busy, but help me
learn. I read all the 1st and 2nd grade books in the 1st grade, the
3rd and 4th grade books in the 2nd grade and so on. They could have
just had me sweep the gym (my 4th grade teacher did) but they made up
educational games (this was the mid 70s) for me, let me sit on their
laps (instead of in the corner) and helped me to grow in the proper
direction. I know they are with me because I find myself trying to
help get the best out of people when I teach.

Without them and their extra efforts, I could have been just another
hyperactive kid with issues; because of them, I moved into the
“gifted” classes in Junior High and High School and went on to be the
president of my student association in my undergraduate studies, run
departments in 2 hospitals, make a successful go of my own business
and am now in graduate school. None of this would have been possible
without those ladies. Thank you!

]]> By: rachel reynolds http://meredith-martin.com/blog/my-wonderful-motherand-whose-memory-do-you-carry/comment-page-1/#comment-77 rachel reynolds Wed, 26 Nov 2008 03:18:39 +0000 http://meredith-martin.com/blog/?p=109#comment-77 I carry all of the wonderful memories of my Great-grandmother, Hallie Harris Harden with me. I remember the stories, the afternoons shelling peas on the the porch, learning to platt hair, her crooked finger waving back and forth as she scolded me, all the meals of fried okra, boiled wiennies, and hard boiled eggs. I remember sitting up front with her during church, her singing Old Rugged Cross in a real high nasaly voice and me digging through her purse for clorets. I remember her teaching me to sew on a treddle sewing machine, crochet pot holders, and make a proper pan of cornbread before I was eight. I remember her girdles, shiny beads, and hats made out of straw flower pots. I remember her taking me fishing. She was/is my "ideal." On the day she died, I remember for some reason Mike was in Fayetteville. We weren't yet dating. I can't remember why he was there. He called. I told what had happened, so he came to visit. We went and got a bottle of wild turkey and went to Chester to the poultry swap and drank with Leon. I brought home a bunch of Arkansas black apples. I think that probably would have both horrified and greatly pleased my Nanny! I always carry her with me. I carry the memory of my father who died when I was six of cancer, far before his time, and realize that life is too short not to do what is important and you are passionate about. I also carry those who have encouraged me in my cultural work like Ethel Simpson and Bob Cochran. Most of all I think of members of my community that I aim to serve, encourage, protect, etc. all of those who have been generous with their lives in sharing with me. I would hate to let them down. I carry all of the wonderful memories of my Great-grandmother, Hallie Harris Harden with me. I remember the stories, the afternoons shelling peas on the the porch, learning to platt hair, her crooked finger waving back and forth as she scolded me, all the meals of fried okra, boiled wiennies, and hard boiled eggs. I remember sitting up front with her during church, her singing Old Rugged Cross in a real high nasaly voice and me digging through her purse for clorets. I remember her teaching me to sew on a treddle sewing machine, crochet pot holders, and make a proper pan of cornbread before I was eight. I remember her girdles, shiny beads, and hats made out of straw flower pots. I remember her taking me fishing. She was/is my “ideal.” On the day she died, I remember for some reason Mike was in Fayetteville. We weren’t yet dating. I can’t remember why he was there. He called. I told what had happened, so he came to visit. We went and got a bottle of wild turkey and went to Chester to the poultry swap and drank with Leon. I brought home a bunch of Arkansas black apples. I think that probably would have both horrified and greatly pleased my Nanny! I always carry her with me. I carry the memory of my father who died when I was six of cancer, far before his time, and realize that life is too short not to do what is important and you are passionate about. I also carry those who have encouraged me in my cultural work like Ethel Simpson and Bob Cochran. Most of all I think of members of my community that I aim to serve, encourage, protect, etc. all of those who have been generous with their lives in sharing with me. I would hate to let them down.

]]> By: Janine http://meredith-martin.com/blog/my-wonderful-motherand-whose-memory-do-you-carry/comment-page-1/#comment-76 Janine Wed, 26 Nov 2008 00:00:28 +0000 http://meredith-martin.com/blog/?p=109#comment-76 This is a powerful post, Meredith. Thank you for sharing. You make a good point about not forcing false boundaries between our personal and work lives (though there certainly is a time and a place to keep them separate). This has been something on my mind of late, doing fieldwork with the religious group I'm also joining. Every day with this type of work is another balancing act but certainly not an unpleasant one. To answer your question, I too am inspired by the charm of Erika Brady and how she makes the most scholarly work a beautiful thing. I wish for the gentle lens and poetic eyes and hands of Elizabeth Barret in my film work; the fearless, pioneering spirit of the many involved in the Federal Writers' and Theatre Projects; and Marjorie Hunt's dedication and observational skills to top it all off. As for more personal influences, and memories I "carry" with me, I count it among my blessings that I've lost very few people in my life. And so, most of all, believe it or not though, it is you whom I most hope to bring to my work as a folklorist. Your real concern for the well-being of the people whom you work with, your passion in fighting for and celebrating the individual as well as the community, and your belief in the power of folklore to make a difference in the world-these are all traits of yours I aspire to share one day. Our conversations certainly got me through my first year in the program, and you were a great partner in crime on Ravensford and RHDI. You've made it easy for me to carry you with me in the field-and my daily life-with the fabulous, fun clothes I can now wear to keep you near in spirit. Remembering your bravery through your own fears still helps me through panic attacks about phone calls and other silly things. And so I wrap up my first ever (and apparently MASSIVE) comment on a blog with a sappy thank you, Meredith, for your friendship and inspiration to be a better folklorist and a better person. I can't wait to see all that you will do with your mother at your side. This is a powerful post, Meredith. Thank you for sharing. You make a good point about not forcing false boundaries between our personal and work lives (though there certainly is a time and a place to keep them separate). This has been something on my mind of late, doing fieldwork with the religious group I’m also joining. Every day with this type of work is another balancing act but certainly not an unpleasant one.

To answer your question, I too am inspired by the charm of Erika Brady and how she makes the most scholarly work a beautiful thing. I wish for the gentle lens and poetic eyes and hands of Elizabeth Barret in my film work; the fearless, pioneering spirit of the many involved in the Federal Writers’ and Theatre Projects; and Marjorie Hunt’s dedication and observational skills to top it all off.

As for more personal influences, and memories I “carry” with me, I count it among my blessings that I’ve lost very few people in my life. And so, most of all, believe it or not though, it is you whom I most hope to bring to my work as a folklorist. Your real concern for the well-being of the people whom you work with, your passion in fighting for and celebrating the individual as well as the community, and your belief in the power of folklore to make a difference in the world-these are all traits of yours I aspire to share one day. Our conversations certainly got me through my first year in the program, and you were a great partner in crime on Ravensford and RHDI. You’ve made it easy for me to carry you with me in the field-and my daily life-with the fabulous, fun clothes I can now wear to keep you near in spirit. Remembering your bravery through your own fears still helps me through panic attacks about phone calls and other silly things.

And so I wrap up my first ever (and apparently MASSIVE) comment on a blog with a sappy thank you, Meredith, for your friendship and inspiration to be a better folklorist and a better person. I can’t wait to see all that you will do with your mother at your side.

]]> By: Nic http://meredith-martin.com/blog/my-wonderful-motherand-whose-memory-do-you-carry/comment-page-1/#comment-75 Nic Tue, 25 Nov 2008 19:53:01 +0000 http://meredith-martin.com/blog/?p=109#comment-75 I strive to have the charm of Erika Brady, the community focus of my grandfather (the county historian), and the reflexivity of Dorothy Noyes. I strive to have the charm of Erika Brady, the community focus of my grandfather (the county historian), and the reflexivity of Dorothy Noyes.

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