Often good things come to us through our struggles. One of the blessings I have received while navigating my way through pandemic restrictions and limitations has been the gift of time.
My mother passed away 29 years ago. When my sister, who had been living in the family home, moved away, I “inherited” boxes and boxes of my mother’s belongings. My husband and I tucked the boxes away in our unfinished basement. Several times over the years, we would go through a box or two, but it was hard to think of my mother’s life packed away in just a few boxes. After a short time of sorting, we would close the boxes again and wait for another opportunity to go through her things.
The year 2020 provided that opportunity. I don’t know if the pandemic had given me a chance to think about what’s important—family, memories—but I was finally ready, after all these years, to tackle those boxes! Imagine my surprise when I came across a box marked “Genealogy.” The box was filled with family group sheets, a few pictures, and a stack of personal histories.
I enjoyed reading through each of the histories and getting to know my family better. I learned things about my ancestors that I had not known before. Names, places, and dates suddenly came to life for me.
One of the histories I found was a life story of Mary Emily Barlow Tanner, my great-grandmother, as told to her daughter in 1955. I learned about Grandma Tanner’s childhood friend, Edith, and the things they did together. I learned the names of school teachers. I even learned about the accent of Brother Simpson as he called the Sunday School class together, “Stand oop, put your ‘ands be’ind you, bow your ‘eads and we’ll ‘ave prayers.”
In her story, Grandmother Tanner related the following: “At the age of 12½ years I was afflicted with what they thought was dropsy. I was bedfast for over a year; for nine weeks I had to be turned over on a sheet. A doctor who came from the East told us I would never walk without crutches. But I was spunky enough to want to show them so I threw my crutches across the room and walked over and picked them up. My illness made one of my legs smaller and shorter than the other. I have been told by doctors since that is almost a positive fact that my illness was polio.”
Mary Emily also told of her marriage and raising a large family while her husband served a mission in Australia. She lived in a two-story, red brick home in Grouse Creek, Utah. After her husband’s death, the big red brick home was too much for her to take care of by herself. She moved in with her son and spent winters in Ogden with Emma Greenwell. –Cheryl Ferrara- Temple and Family History Consultant, Granite Stake
