Preserving Your History

Papa with his granddaughter on his 90th birthday

My great-grandfather, Ed Rinne, was born in 1880 in Illinois.  As  a young man, he spent a short time farming with his father in Alabama.  I am lucky to have an audio interview with him done sometime in the late 70’s when he would have been 90+ years old.  But I was shocked when I listened to him talk about his time in the south. He uses the the word “nigger” repeatedly in telling this story.  I vacillated about posting it.  Would listener’s understand the language usage in the era he grew up in?  He clearly is not using it in a pejorative sense. As a matter of fact, he has scorn only for the white southerners.  But it is shocking to hear, nevertheless.

This has been an issue in the past with Twain’s Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. As well as Shakespeare’s language in The Merchant of Venice that is derogatory toward Jews.  Are we using any language today that will be shocking to our great-grand kids? Should we, or even could we, hide or sanitize our past use of language?  Here is his story as he told it, warts and all.  (Note: The “they” he refers to at the end are the white towns people.)

Papa Rinne on working in Alabama

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I just attended my first Facebook funeral. It lasted about 5 days.

I received the news of Tracy’s death via Facebook. And I sent condolences to his partner via Facebook. I swapped stories and photos on-line and like all good funerals I ran into  people I had not heard from in years.  The swirl of postings containing “do you remember…” and expressions of heartfelt appreciation and sorrow was fundamentally the same ritual my great-grandparents performed as they ‘waked’ a friend several nights in a row.  Granted, without the Irish whiskey.

While, it initially felt strange to use Facebook as a funeral home or the front parlor of a home, it allowed people from all over the continent to grieve as a “family” and acknowledge our connections to each other and to Tracy.  I heard from a friend that her group still leaves messages at a deceased friend’s Facebook page. It serves her far-flung pals as a virtual tombstone.

I’m sure none of this is a surprise to the younger generation or long-time Facebookers.  But being new to FB, I was surprised and pleased at the connectedness I felt sitting at the keyboard.  Though I’m sure Tracy, who hated computers, is not at all amused.

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