I have a lot to live up to

I've thought for some time that my pedigree is pretty good. If that sounds boastful, so be it.

By pedigree I mean the quality of folk who came before me. My parents and grandparents and great-grandparents. Except for a great-grandfather, every single one of my ancestor - to my knowledge - were decent, honest and hard-working. Now that great-grandfather may have been that, too, but he disappeared from the family under mysterious circumstances. Oh, and add tight-lipped to that list of characteristics of most of my forbearers.

Both my parents died this year so I've been drawn to the family story. I attempted to glean family lore from my mother toward the end of her life, but sadly it was beyond her cognitive ability by the time I sat down to take dictation. Still she provided glimpses. While dates and places were irretrievable, people and personality were not.

My maternal grandparents grew up in Minnesota; my grandmother Madge in the rowdy Twin Cities and my grandfather Carl in pastoral rural Minnesota. They really could not have been more different. Madge was gregarious and quick witted; Carl was shy and painfully earnest. Madge hailed from strong women; her single mother - Mary Ellen  - stood barely 5 feet tall and ruled all in her purview. Today's Tiger Moms would quake in her presence. As did Carl I imagine.

Carl's parents came through Ellis Island in the mid-1800s and settled in Minnesota alongside thousands of other Norwegians. On one census, his father Han's occupation was listed as day laborer, as was the occupation of most of his immigrant neighbors.

So where did these two meet? Standing Rock Reservation in South Dakota. They both left their homes in Minnesota to teach on the reservation. The tall and shy Carl must have been emotionally upended by the beautiful Madge. A woman who equaled him in intelligence and shared his passion for teaching. 

I would give just about anything to be able to write about this most glorious coupling. Who made the first move? Legitimate question given Carl's shyness. But alas, I never got the chance to ask those questions. Carl died when I was in second grade; a good 15 years before my curiosity about things other than myself arrived. Madge lived in Oregon her later years. The last time I saw her was at my wedding, again when I was more preoccupied with myself.

I do know Madge would leave her career as a teacher to raise her and Carl's three sons and two daughters. My mom recalled a normal upbringing. I doubt that. Living in tiny towns, the kids were mostly AWOL from the house until suppertime. Afterwards, my mom describes a most wonderful family routine.  After dinner cleanup, the seven Eskelsons scatter, as in go their separate ways. Some to their bedroom, others to living room or front porch.  For the next hour or so that loud house stood silent. It was reading time. Books after dinner every night.   

I love this image. I understand so much better why my mom was so smart. She had Carl's shyness so not many people knew how brilliant her brain worked. These two young people venturing forth in the world truly on their own. Understanding the value of education and how it can lift a person of any measure. Quality people.

When I was in my mid-30s and still living in South Dakota, a woman I knew in a bipartisan political group learned I was related to Madge and Carl. She said she loved them. They were active in the state Republican Party. Wow. My grandparents were real people. How come I didn't know that?

My grandparents were not only real people, they were quality people. They are a big part of the reason I can say I come from solid pedigree.  

Quick fact about Carl: he served in WWI.

Quick fact about Madge: she may have stopped being a teacher, but she never stopped teaching. She tutored children in reading when she was in her early 90s.

That's a lot of good in just two people. My people.