Mine The Elderly

[Europe]

Nameless Range, Thank you for sharing with us. That was a beautifully written testimony of/to your wife's grandmother and her life--and how it affected your life and others in the family

The additional benefit of your starting this thread and sharing it with us, is it gave others the opportunity to tell their stories about the older people who are or was in their life's.

And what Beautiful stories, they were. Thank you for sharing guys

Believe me, you have no idea how much it is appreciated to not be forgotten or shoved aside. A simple hand made card from your grandchildren or great-grandchildren saying "I made this card for you granny" makes you feel better than anything you can buy in a pharmacy.

You are a fine group of men

 

[JLDemo]

I'm sorry for your loss, but your words ring true on so many accounts. The knowledge and stories heard from people that lived in a different time before us are treasured for certain. I'm glad you got to spend the time you did with her and it was privilege to hear some of the stories remembered. I had a similar situation with my Great Uncle, he served in WWII and Korea before calling it quits. I had the privilege to hear numerous stories of what he did and mostly those stories were told during golf or over a glass of his scotch. Time isn't always on our side, but when you hear of people making the most of it is what makes it all worth it. Thanks again for sharing.

 

[rtraverdavis]

Thanks for posting this Nameless, and I’m sorry for your family’s loss. It sounds like she has left an indelible mark on you all, but you especially. It stirred some personal memories for me. A deep kinship with a special elder is a sort of magic thing. My great grandmother was that person for me. Born in Yugoslavia in 1902, she emigrated to America through Ellis Island when she was 19 to marry a man she’d only known through written correspondence—my great grandfather. He died before I was born, but my great grandmother was a tremendous influence on my upbringing. She could make anything grow—she’d keep a pair of pruning snips in her purse and take cuttings from plants she liked wherever she went, nurse them in her greenhouse, and they’d eventually find their home somewhere out in her expansive garden. She got busted coming out of Hawaii a few different times doing that. Her green thumb came out of necessity though, as she and her siblings often went hungry as children and as the eldest she was the one responsible for growing food for the family to eat. Though she never meant to, her stories of growing up in Yugoslavia always made me feel like a spoiled, sheltered wimp. Important stuff to remember when petty nonsense feels so important.

 

[Panda Bear]

When you read the testimonies posted on this thread, you can feel the love these men had for those they are speaking of--very enjoyable reads. The love Nameless Range had for his wife grandmother was felt in his writings about her.

Same is true of the testimonies that followed. The time it took to care for the older people in these stories were not seen as a burden by the authors of these posts, but as a responsibility, a desire to do so, a love for them and an appreciation, of them.

This ( carrying for the elderly ) is a very important part of our culture in the far North. Not just in the immediate family but in the community.

Just one story relating to hunting from "our" elders. Is: "why do you need such a large caliber ?" ( and this question can be for young people using a 30-06 or 308 ) "Wasted meat, cost of ammo, more expensive rifles, just not necessary "

 

[MarvB]

My grandmother was our rock in our family as well. Lost the other three grandparents before I was 6 so their memories are pretty vague. Gma Kelley lived until she was 93 and that still seemed too soon when she left us. My mom just turned 90 in December and my wifes’s are 87/88 so their the next anchors in the fam. Lots to appreciate from those who keep our pasts in our present!

 

[Bambistew]

You always have a way with words...I couldn't imagine you being the antisocial type.

I'm sorry for your loss, and I'm glad you were able to enjoy your time with her and enjoy her life even if it was through memories she had. I had a friend who passed away about 12 years ago at 92. I really enjoyed listening to the stories of his youth, WW2, bragging about his "kids" who were grandparents, and his outlook on life. He was an inspiration and I really miss him.

 

[Nameless Range]

We dug through my wife’s grandmother’s old photos and stuff this evening. It would’ve been cool to do so alongside her, as many brought on questions.







Wolf Creek, MT before it was Wolf Creek but was Cartersville.




This is a cool photo. According to
the back of the photo, the cowboy telling the story with the gun between his legs is Don Bergum, my wife’s Great Uncle, in 1939. Don went missing in action in September of 1944 with the 28th Bomber Squadron somewhere in the South Pacific.



So many stories out there never to be heard again.

 

[TRS_Montana]

Well said, as always, nameless.
The older I get, the more I appreciate the wisdom and perspective that only time, experience, an unquenched spirit, and a general disregard for diplomacy can provide.
And it sounds like she had a great last day.

 

[corndog1]

I always love hearing stories from my wife's grandparents about growing up in redstone mt. They are late eighties now and a wealth of knowledge

 

[EKYHunter]

Thank you OP and to everyone else that posted. Great thread!

 

[LongTooth]

Well said and a fine tribute!

 

[2rocky]

...Of their knowledge and stories. This is not a lamentation, just a thought.

I often joked about bringing my Great uncle who had free range poultry in the 40's out with me to call on my organic pastured poultry clients. He did what they were doing and wasn't doing it any more with good reason....But he could tell them how to do it if they wanted to do it his way...

 

[Nameless Range]

With my wife and her family, I had the occasion to close down a bar in Lincoln, MT last night - something every Montanan oughta do at some point.

At one point in the evening, an old-timer came in and had a couple drinks. My wife thought she recognized him, and we approached him and introduced ourselves. Turns out the house her grandparents from the OP lived in, and that we were staying in, was built on land he used to own. Many decades ago, my wife’s grandfather built the house the old-timer, who was 86, lived in, and in exchange he gave them 10 acres.

He had stories and recollections of her grandma and grandpa, and closing down bars before we existed, and there were tears of joy in my wife’s eyes listening to someone else who knew the loved and now gone.

I was just an outside observer, but one who understood, and it is a privilege to have married into this geography of layered memories. The layers through time and pressure changing into something entirely different - much like layers of sediment on its way to metamorphic rock, and it’s powerful.

 

[gouch]

I never had the pleasure of knowing my grandparents, but I do have many fond memories of listening to the stories of the long-lived folks that I have met over the years. Sounds like you were blessed for having your wife's grandmother in your life, sorry for your loss.

 

[Redmt]

I also am sorry for your loss. I can very much relate to hearing the stories. The area I live in was settled in the 1800's by a few families that are still here. I've listened to the stories from the now past 2nd generation of those settlers. Now the 3rd generation is in their 80's and 90's and becoming fewer. All the original stories of success and hardship are our history. Unfortunately very little has been recorded. When an older generation tells you a story or tries to educate you in the ways of the past, listen to them as you may never have the chance to hear it again.
I'm just hitting 70 but figure I'm not going to.be around forever. I have a lot of younger guys in and out of here all the time for "how do you do this" or "how does this work" etc. I tell each of them that if they don't know everything I know by the time I die that it's their fault.

 

[Redmt]

I just got sad news that another of our older pioneers has passed this morning. At 92, he had a full life.

 

[Nameless Range]

Resurrecting this thread because of the mood of my day.

A fellow HuntTalker recently introduced me to the concept of fauxstalgia. Basically, nostalgia for a state of affairs that never existed the way you romanticize it. I am probably often guilty of this.

Today they wife and I went to the funeral of a 91 year old Montanan I called a friend. I mentioned him in another thread, and believe that Montana is far better place than it would otherwise have been because of the works of his life. A while back I sat down with him for three hours to interview him about a 1961 wildfire that nearly burned Clancy, MT to the ground, and the volunteers who saved it. That recording is one of my prized possessions, and I need to write about it and turn it loose to the local museum sooner than later. I am not a religious person, and can say that many times I went to church just to grill him about local history over coffee afterward.

But man, words don’t work for describing the loss of a person and their knowledge. To live when Montana was stagnant and unchanging and wilder and empty, relative to now. To see elk brought to the northern Boulder Mountains post-brink. To have great great grandchildren.

I worry more and more every day that knowledge that isn’t recorded or written down will be washed away by the deluge of the internet and what’s to come. There's an enormous amount of it out there on the landscape, but it takes human connection, typically outside of the internet, to be graced by it. Maybe I, in the throes of fauxstalgia, overvalue that knowledge and it's mostly all fluff and there are no new big lessons to learn. It doesn't feel that way, though.

 

[Big Fin]

There are lessons to be learned from those folks, no doubt. Thanks for giving me reason to think about those who have witnessed so much and whose stories are worth sharing.

 

[Gerald Martin]

Resurrecting this thread because of the mood of my day.

A fellow HuntTalker recently introduced me to the concept of fauxstalgia. Basically, nostalgia for a state of affairs that never existed the way you romanticize it. I am probably often guilty of this.

Today they wife and I went to the funeral of a 91 year old Montanan I called a friend. I mentioned him in another thread, and believe that Montana is far better place than it would otherwise have been because of the works of his life. A while back I sat down with him for three hours to interview him about a 1961 wildfire that nearly burned Clancy, MT to the ground, and the volunteers who saved it. That recording is one of my prized possessions, and I need to write about it and turn it loose to the local museum sooner than later. I am not a religious person, and can say that many times I went to church just to grill him about local history over coffee afterward.

But man, words don’t work for describing the loss of a person and their knowledge. To live when Montana was stagnant and unchanging and wilder and empty, relative to now. To see elk brought to the northern Boulder Mountains post-brink. To have great great grandchildren.

I worry more and more every day that knowledge that isn’t recorded or written down will be washed away by the deluge of the internet and what’s to come. There's an enormous amount of it out there on the landscape, but it takes human connection, typically outside of the internet, to be graced by it. Maybe I, in the throes of fauxstalgia, overvalue that knowledge and it's mostly all fluff and there are no new big lessons to learn. It doesn't feel that way, though.

“Listen you whippersnappers. Back when I was a boy…”. The leading sentence of fauxstalgia?

My great grandfather lived to be 96. One of my favorite stories was when he would tell me about driving cattle from the Shenandoah Valley up over the mountains to West Virginia. They had to spend the night on top of the mountain and they built a big bonfire. He looked at me with a straight face and told me it was so dark up there on that mountain that if you got thirty yards from the fire you couldn’t even see the fire anymore.

 

[Oak]

I am thankful that keeping a diary was so much more common in the years of the westward expansion and exploration. Folks back then could give an amazing snapshot of daily life with very few words. I've spend countless hours reading old accounts in search of bighorn sheep information. Below is one of my favorite passages from the diary of George A. Jackson, 27 years before Colorado was a state.

Jan. 1st, 1859: Clear day. My supply of State's grub short-two pounds bread, one pound coffee, one-half pound salt. Plenty of dried elk for myself and dogs yet, so here goes for head of creek. Told Tom I would be back in a week to our old camp above Table Mountains. Off; good going most of the way. Killed mountain lion to-day. Made about eight miles and camped at Warm Springs, near mouth of small creek coming in on south side. Snow all gone around springs. Killed fat sheep and camped under three cottonwood trees. About 1,000 sheep in sight to-night; no scarcity of meat in future for myself or dogs. Good.

Jan. 2d: Drum and Kit woke me by low growls at daylight. Sheep all gone; mountain lion within twenty steps. Pulled my gun and shot too quick; broke his shoulder, but followed up and killed him. Clear high wind and very cold. In camp all day. Built bough house, and ate fat sheep. Bread all gone. Plenty good meat. No wantum bread.

Jan. 3d: Still clear and very cold-sun dogs. Sheep came down again; are very tame; walk up to within 100 yards of camp and look and stamp at us. Mountain lion killed one within 200 yards of camp to-day and scattered the whole band again. Went up the main creek to another tributary coming in from the south, a little larger than this one.

Jan. 4th: Pleasant day. Made a long tramp to-day. Followed up the main fork five miles. Here the creek forks again; each about the same width. Followed up the north fork about five miles; rough country and plenty of snow. Got back to camp after dark. Mountain lion stole all my meat in camp; no supper to-night; d--n him.

Jan. 5th: Up before daylight. Killed fat sheep and wounded mountain lion before sunrise. Ate ribs for breakfast; drank last of my coffee. After breakfast I moved up to next creek on south side, one-half mile. Made camp under big fir tree. Good gravel here; looks like it would carry gold. Wind has blown snow off of the rim, but gravel is hard frozen. Panned out two cups; nothing but fine colors.

Jan. 6th: Pleasant day. Built big fire on rim rock to thaw gravel; kept it up all day. Corcajou came into camp while I was at fire; dogs killed him after I had broken his back with belt axe; h--l of a fight.

Jan. 7th: Clear day. Removed fire embers and dug into rim on bed rock. Panned out eight Treaty cups; found nothing but fine gold; ninth cup got one nugget of coarse gold. Feel good to-night; dogs don't; Drum is lame all over; sewed gash in his leg to-night. Corcajou no good for dog.

Jan. 8th: Pleasant day. Well, Tom, old boy, I've got the diggins at last, but can't be back in a week. Dogs can't travel. D-n a Corcajou. Dug and panned to-day until my belt knife was worn out; so will have to quit or use my skinning knife. I have about half an ounce of gold; so will quit and try and get back in the spring.

Jan. 9th: Filled up hole with charcoal from big fire and built a fire over it, and marked the big fir tree with belt axe and knife.

Jan. 10th: Snowing like h-1; high wind and cold. In camp all day. Drum can hardly walk around to-day.

Jan. 11th: Cold, and has quit snowing. Still in camp doctoring my dog; his leg has swollen to the size of my arm above my elbow. D--n a Corcajou.