You are right. We do all have stories. I have a friend who always says that her family is boring; has no stories. I don't believe any family can be boring. It's just a matter of how much gets passed down; how much is talked about. In our family, holding claim to our past has been nothing short of an up-hill battle. So much fear of more violence from Gadje that we were trying to pass for what we weren't for generations. Saying things to outsiders like, "Of course, all Czechs have really dark skin. And, since we're full-blood Czech, that's why we're brown-skinned and not Caucasian-looking." Most people in America don't even know where the Czech Republic is, so we could get away with little "white"--no pun intended--lies like that. As is now, half the family admits to being Roma. The other half is still too scared. Too many questions like, "What happened to our family in the Czech Republic that disappeared in WWII?" Or what happened to such-and-such relative here in America, whose death/ murder (?) can't be discussed? Et cetera. Et cetera. Always more violence. Regardless, I think the stories are good to get out there. Especially since so many in my generation are losing knowledge of some of the old ways. I try writing down stuff that I know got carried over from the Old Country--old family customs, like tying ribbons to trees when you make wishes or putting a doll on the roof if you want to have a baby. Teaching four-year-olds how to make bricks because, aside from being metalworkers, thats what we teach our children in every generation, myself included. Stuff like that which my family still routinely does. I think, if it doesn't get recorded now, in 50 years, a lot of old information will very regrettably be lost. What you wrote about your first toys reminded me of my father. The only toy he had when he was a little boy was a teddy bear someone threw away onto the street in Chicago. He kept it until I was born, then gave it to me. To remind me of our past, in part. He got me other toys, but it was a point about where we come from--the poverty. I always tease that, with every generation in America, my family gets richer. My grandfather, (first generation,) had nothing but his mother's arms. My father's cradle was a cardboard box and mine was a dresser drawer. When my husband and I have a baby, we're going to carve that family history onto the underside of the cradleboard. To have lived through deprivation is a luxury, I think. In hunger, you learn to appreciate food. In cold, you learn to appreciate the gift of an open fire. In living off the land, you learn to appreciate your inner-instincts of self-preservation. I wasn't four before I knew how to scrounge in the woods for food and this is a gift that I am very grateful to my parents for. One of the best things about our people, I think, is our stubborn ability to endure. To take the hits and still, come what may, keep getting back up, fists out--ready to defend our way of life. And recording, I think, and relating all those stories is a key element to doing just that.
Dear Charlie,
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