With Ribbons I Honor the Dead

Ancestor ribbons hang like prayer flags, cotton fiber suspended from wood, green and quick with living energy. As the greenery around them grows and blooms and falls and dies, the names written on the simple muslin strips grow faint and fade into the grey of gloaming. Edges tatter against wind and rain, witness to the turning of the world as both ribbons and seasons unravel.

It is a simple gesture, these words on white cotton. An offering, the memory of a name that whispers to the stars at night, this person was loved, this person is remembered, this person was here. There are so many names that swim in my mind, so many names that bear remembering. If I live long enough, the number of names may someday outnumber the ribbons I make, which could be a sad acknowledgment but knowledge is what we make of it and I choose to see it as a blessing for the number of people I have connected to and a gratitude for the number of lives I have known and will know in this lifetime.

There are many people whose names I write, who were loved by me and loved me, whose bodies are returning to the same earth I still pull my energy from. The most beloved of my ghosts, who loved me in breath, feed me still. I find my strength in that emotional bridge. The connections we make transcend worlds. But sometimes the brain forgets that truth, the hurt resurfaces and I ride a brief wave of sorrow.

The price of love is loss, eventually. Loss can be sweetened by memory and the act of remembering. I write the names of people who challenged me and were instrumental in my evolution and growth. I write their names on ribbons and hang them on bowers, arbors and trees.

Over time, the natural fiber weakens and frays, taking a similar journey to the ones our bodies do when our spirit has left it. I do little more than witness and speak the names aloud until I can no longer see enough ink to remember which ribbon belonged to which name. Little pieces will fall, stolen away for materials to flesh out nests and burrows for eggs and litters and new generations.

My Grandfather's Shoes

I have a pair of shoes that belonged to my Grandpa Dick. I found them in his closet after he died and announced my intentions to take them with me even though my mother told me they were too big on me and raised her eyebrows at their sloppiness on my feet (because I didn’t need one more thing to take home and put away in a closet). They were old rubber slip-on sandals that he wore gardening, pruning the flowers, and mowing the lawn. There weren’t many belongings in the house identifiable to him, and I wanted something he used a lot.

I brought the shoes home and wore them out and about in my garden, while I learned to differentiate weed from seedling. I sloshed around in those shoes, in the wet dewy morning grass, growing flowers, vegetables and herbs in the front property of the apartment I rent. One sunny morning, a magical thing happened. I slipped the shoes on to carry the buckets of water out to the front yard, where I pour it into our watering can to drench our flowers and food.

I slipped those sandals on and even though my shoe size had not altered or changed, they hugged my bare soles as if they were made for me, as if they had always been meant for me, the brown boardwalk fare that held my grandfather’s feet and now hold mine. He left such big shoes to fill when he left our family and, like many who are left behind, I tortured myself with the notion that it was up to me to fill them.

Slowly over these last seven years, over the years of hands in the dirt and mulch, planting seeds, and harvesting food for our table has become a catalyst that stirs memories of family dinners and warm summer nights at my Grandma and Grandpa’s house… from their home to mine.

Recently, I have come to understand what it means to say that home is where my heart is. I have found that wherever I am sleeping for the night is what I refer to as home in conversations. Home lies with whom my heart lies and I am blessed to know home in the houses of many people. And that idea of home is a gift that I learned from having my Grandparents in my life.

They can’t be replaced. No one can fill the position in my life these old gardening shoes symbolize to me. We’re not always meant to replace lost things.

But as I slip my feet into those shoes I am reminded of the goodness and generosity of my Grandfather, the connection he had to life and the ease with which he seemed to navigate the world. That- footprints rather than shoes- is something I can aspire to while I find my own way.

Ancestor Prayer Beads

I am always searching for new ways to experience my ancestor work, physically, visually, energetically, artistically. I find that more experiences and points of view give dimensionality to intangible theories, which gives it more flesh and weight. One of the first things I learned about ancestor worship came from the Yoruban religion of Ifa, built around the core belief of ancestor reverence. They say that if you do not know seven generations of your ancestors- those who walk behind you and paved the way for you- then you cannot know who you are.

That is something easily done in a culture that prioritizes holding onto the names of ancestors past, but in Western culture it is easy to forget those who traveled before. It is possible to lose an entire branch of history in one generation; a forgotten sibling, the sudden death of a parent with no other family, adoption, etc. It is easy for facts to become lost. But we all come from somewhere. We all have histories that trace back to the first signs of life.

When my work deepened, I wanted to see how far back I could go. How much of my own history did we already know? That thought prompted me to look into the genealogy notes we had. There were very few names to my mother’s family, and a couple blocks we’d been stuck at in my father’s. I could only go back seven generations in one line and we had yet to verify if it was accurate. Thanks to the help of the information age, the improbable became more possible and I more discoveries were made.

So I have these names, interesting, strange and old and all belonging to people whose blood flows in me. I have sat and recited their names aloud, bearing witness to their place in the journey of our family. And recently, I found myself wanting something different, something fuller, something with a weight I could hold in my hand.

Prayers beads are used by many differing religious faiths as a means of repetitive prayer, chant or devotion: Buddhist, Roman Catholic, Orthodox Christian, Anglican, Islam, Hindu, Sikh- just to name a few. Having experience with both rosary and mala beads, I was drawn to trying to create something towards that purpose. I started simply, buying plain wood beads and hemp rope at the local craft store.

In the generation above me, both of my parents are still living so I started my prayer beads with the first generation of dead relatives, my Grandparents (both bio- and step-). I placed four beads for four Grandparents, tying a double knot afterwards. In the next section I put a bead for each name I had for my Great-Grandparents, and then tied a double knot. And I moved into the next section and so on, for 7 generations of dead. When it was finished, I had a necklace made of 120 names, long enough to double-wrap around my neck.

In my meditations I hold each bead in my hand and speak the name of an ancestor into it, learning their names, calling their memory into the wood and paying homage to them.

This necklace is another way to process what it means to have those generations supporting me, with that tangible weight upon my shoulders layering another perspective into my awareness. With every step of my foot and shifting of the wood around my neck, I am made aware of the presence of support I have gathered in the spiritual world and, if nothing else, I am humbled by the lives that gave way for mine and reminded that I am not alone. I am never alone.

My Line of Mothers

Happy Mother's Day!

These are the known women of my Ancestry who have passed on, with their birth names intact. I begin with me and walk back each generation, with my living mother, Margaret being the First Generation and my living grandmothers Pat and Doris being the second and last of my living mothers.

With a breath of gratitude as the world pauses to honor those who live, I cross the threshold and whisper to those who stand behind and beneath me.

[If you find that we share a common ancestor, I would love to hear from you.]

Second Generation…

Donna McDonald (1938-2001) at 62, Ruth Emma Ruston (1916-1959) at 42 years old.

Third Generation…

Margaret Loretta Burke (1899-1938) at 35, Elsie Elizabeth Durant (1904-1994) at 89, Minnie Estelle Wicker (1890-1964) at 73, Hattie Eva Smith (1882-1969) at 86.

Fourth Generation…

Eliza Conners (b.1866), Katherine S. Pils (1871-1946) at 74, Emma Louise Burnah (1869-1939) at 69, Frances Gillette (1877-1963) at 85, Emma Angeline Whitcher (1845-1929) at 83, Ruth Ireland (1861-1940) at 78, Hattie Eva Dutcher (1857-1882) at 24 in childbirth, Theresa Cordelia Tenney (1850-1930) at 79.

Fifth Generation…

Ellen (b.1836), Mary Dowd (b.1834), Mary Burzee, Katherine Maria Schmeelk (d.1901), Jane Berry (1841-1901) at 59, Rosella LaValley (1843-1921) at 77, Sarah Clickner (1830-1876) at 45, Ordelia De Lozier (1810-1888) at 77, Cynthia Lusk (1819-1888) at 68, Phoebe Lenton (1826-1887) at 60, Anna Richardson (b.1822), Eliza Marsh Bird (1837-1926) at 88, Sophia Sears (1829-1909) at 79,  Malvina (b.1829), Hannah Ann Treadwell (1817-1884) at 66.

Sixth Generation…

Rosella LaRoche (1805-1871) at 65, Elizabeth A. Hill (1825-1899) at 73, Mary Ann Boots (1825-1899) at 73, Abigail Chaffe (d.1829), Lucy Raymond (1789-1874) at 84, Dorcas Kittredge (1774-1828) at 53, Irene Pond Marsh (b.1803), Cynthia Ann Feagles (1814-1890) at 75, Lucy Gould (1777-1840) at 62.

Seventh Generation…

Marie Amable Langevin (1795-1840) at 44, Susan, Gertrude Dixon (1783-1855) at 71, Harriet Gower, Abigail Hannah, Mary/Polly, Eleanor Erkells, Mary Bailey, Elizabeth Dow, Jane “Jennie” Palmer (1762-1815) at 52, Hepsibah Skiff (1733-1800) at 66, Mary Polly Coleman.

Eighth Generation…

Marie Agathe Charland (1751-1800) at 48, Annatje Goedemoet (1759-1827) at 67, Nancy Machet (1767-1844) at 76, Mary Calhoun (1732-1798) at 65, Julianna Merchant, Rebekah Moulton (b.1742), Fytje Sophia Zabriski (b.1707), Helena “Lina” Eleanor Van Deusen (1713-1769) at 55, Elizabeth Parker (1700-1739) at 38, Silence/Celenia Lyon (1755-1821) at 65.

Ninth Generation…

Marie Madeleine Coulon (1732-1799) at 66, Gertrude Michel, Catherine Coe (1700-1732) at 31, Margaret, Mercy Smith (1720-1793) at 72, Rebekah Walker (1717-1802) at 84, Antje Terhune (b.1681), Tryntie Catherine Slote (1671-1708) at 36, Lydia Gay (1679-1748) at 68, Jannetje Hendrickse Bondt (b.1677), Lydia Perry (1729-1763) at 33, Anna Atherton (1731-1779) at 47.

Tenth Generation…

Marguerite Deblois dit Gregoire, Ruth Briscoe (1682-1749) at 66, Mary Wheeler (1678-1731) at 52, Jemima Ward (1693-1731) at 37, Hannah Groves (1676-1764) at 87, Hendrickje Stephense Van Voorhees (1659-1692) at 32, Machteltje Van Der Linde (b.1661), Lydia Starr (1652-1744) at 91, Joanna Gibbs (b.1708), Waitstill Wyatt (1691-1729) at 37, Anna Field (1713-1748) at 34, Alice, Margaret Grietje Cornelisse (1642-1681) at 38.

Eleventh Generation…

Elizabeth Isabelle Meunier dit Lemonier (1656-1714) at 57, Sarah Wheeler (b.1663), Phoebe Canfield (1656-1730) at 73, Mary Holbrook (1650-1722) at 71, Rachel Kelsey (1656-1685) at 28, Susanna Baldwin (1652-1694) at 41, Hannah Sallows (1654-1718) at 63, Mary Cooke (1649-1732) at 82, Willempie Roeloffse Seubering, Fitje “Sophia” Roelofs Van Gelder, Joanna Borden (1612-1691) at 78, Jane Vose, Anne Foster (1684-1728) at 43, Elizabeth Withington (1676-1765) at 88, Sarah Pond (1641-1716) at 74, Abigail Gilson (1600-1658) at 57.

Twelfth Generation…

Marie Freemillion (1620-1670) at 49, Sarah Dell, Mehitable (b.1631), Phebe Crane, Grace Hawley (d.1689), Agnes (1622-1698) at 75, Joan Bryan (1614-1673) at 58, Phebe Richardson (1632-1716) at 83, Freeborn Wolfe (1632-1681) at 48, Judith Birdsall (1611-1689) at 77, Abigail Goode (1619-1666) at 46, Anne Lane (b.1670), Mary Jennery (1659-1719) at 59, Mary Dyer (1620-1710) at 89, Joanna “Joan” Ford (1617-1695) at 77, Frances Dighton (1611-1703) at 91, Anne (1617-1673) at 55, Katherine Masters.

Thirteenth Generation…

Joan Bryan (1614-1673) at 58, Elizabeth Honor, Anne Halsey (d.1659), Sarah Talmadge (1611-1695) at 83, Mary (b.1610), Ann Wilson (b.1598), Judith Agnes Kempe (1589-1632) at 42, Elizabeth Nichols (b.1570), Abigail Downing (b.1580), Deborah (1599-1656) at 56, Mary Stanley, Elizabeth (b.1595), Mary (1596-1637) at 40, Elizabeth Cooke (1589-1643) at 53, Johan Channon (1570-1629) at 58, Jane Woodward (1569-1614) at 44, Mary Woodhall (b.1581), Jane Hussey (1547-1584) at 36.

Fourteenth Generation…

Anne Halsey (d.1659), Joan Enberg (b.1555), Sharon Ione Sallee, Alice de Spendler (b.1562), Arene Goodere (b.1544), Dorcas Blais Bellamy (b.1554), Mary Smith (1579-1636) at 56, Judith Gordon (1575-1620) at 44, Joan Beck, Joan (1540-1618) at 77, Christian (b.1530).

Fifteenth Generation…

Lucille Evans, Isabel Marshall (b.1536), Joanna Green (1532-1589) at 56, Agnes Alice Harblutt (d.1616), Allyse (b.1502), Jane Cressett (b.1492).

Sixteenth Generation…

Isabel Auckland (b.1510), Margaret Wattes (1491-1549) at 57, Anna Savage, Joan Wrottesley.

Seventeenth Generation…

Agnes Moulton Dowwife (1490-1549) at 58, Katerina Talbott, Jane Joan Corbet (1445-1482) at 36, Maud Matilda De Swynnerton (1365-1415) at 49, Dorothy Dudley Sutton.

Eighteenth Generation…

Jane Brereton, Christina Stapleton (b.1423).

Nineteenth Generation…

Margaret Norton (1417-1465) at 47, Florence.

Twentieth Generation…

Elizabeth Tempest (1387-1438) at 50, Johanna Ufflete (1375-1415) at 39, Alice.

Twenty-first Generation…

Mary Clitheroe (b.1365), Katherine Manningham (1365-1431) at 65, Lora Furnival (b.1335), Alice St. Philibert (1330-1383) at 52, Constance de Upton.

Twenty-second Generation…

Isabel De Gras (1348-1421) at 72, Alice Nunwicke (b.1335), Emma, Ada Botetourt (b.1290), Agnes Maud Matilda FitzAlan (1298-1348) at 49.

Twenty-third Generation…

Margaret “Margery”, Sibyl De Houghton (1308-1388) at 79, Margaret Norton (b.1310), Maud, Alice (b.1265), Sibyl De Bella Aqua (1263-1301) at 37.

Twenty-fourth Generation…

Matilda, Sibilia De Lea (b.1263), Eufemia (b.1235), Laderinade De Brus (b.1241), Margery Bassett (b.1227)..

Twenty-fifth Generation…

Alice, Clemence De Banastre (1240-1298) at 57, Juliana De Wath (b.1200).

Twenty-seventh Generation…

Hawise De Lancaster (b.1192), Agnes (1105-1148) at 42.

Twenty-eighth Generation…

Helwise De Stuteville (1165-1226) at 60.