I saw a post on X that spoke to me so viscerally that I have not been able to think of much else. It was from a woman who simply asked those of us who are older to “be the ancestors your descendants need you to be.” I suppose that this simple phrase in many ways encapsulates the kind of life that I have always attempted to follow. I learned a long time ago how important the good influences from my ancestors have been in guiding my own life. Somehow I learned from the best of them even when I never had the pleasure of actually meeting some of them.
My great grandfather John William Seth Smith was long dead even before I was born. My grandmother, his daughter, never spoke of him so it was not until i joined ancestry.com and began to build my family tree that I was able to put together pieces of a puzzle to form an image of what kind of man he may have been. My efforts painted a portrait of a man who was unafraid to follow his own conscience, to be the person he wanted to be, not a follower. A citizen of the south, he nonetheless enlisted in the union army and served as a lieutenant in battles at Shiloh among others. It was a bold and patriotic move for someone who lived his entire life south of the Mason Dixon line. I have come to admire him for his courage in following his heart, something that has also been important to me.
My paternal grandfather was a survivor and an optimist who never served in the military but fought many battles of his own. His mother died in childbirth and his father gave him up to a grandmother who seems to have been the source of his unwillingness to give in to self pity even in the face of countless tragedies. He was a man who looked to the future rather than focusing on the past. He believed in moving forward, adapting, enjoying life however it came to him. He learned from his many challenges and believed in the resourcefulness and kindness of humans. He looked forward to the possibilities of tomorrow which probably played a key role in his living a full life for one hundred eight years.
My paternal grandmother was a bit of a worrier but that was only because people were more important to her than things, riches or power. She was devoted to making people comfortable and happy. She was resourceful in making do with whatever she had. She had little or no formal schooling but she nonetheless had skills that were astounding. She was always learning from observations and experiences. She was able to identify birds by the sounds they made. She understood how to grow things even in rocky soil. She had hundreds of recipes stored in her head because she was unable to read. Still, she was an independent woman with ideas of her own and an incredibly creative mind.
My maternal grandfather, whom I also never met, grew weary of being under the thumb of the Austro-Hungarian empire where his country of birth was little more than a source of labor and food for the wealthy of Austria and Hungary. He braved a trip across the ocean to an unknown place called Galveston, Texas hoping to build a life of freedom and opportunity for himself and his children. He was a dedicated employee who never missed a day of work. He bought and read a book each week. He purchased land and built a home one room at a time. When the Great Depression came he owned his house, a garden, a cow and some chickens. He provided for his many children even in the most difficult times. Most of all he taught them to love this country and to always appreciate its many blessings.
My maternal grandmother was a bit of an enigma to me. She spoke no English but she welcomed anyone who came into her home with a greeting and a warm cup of coffee. She openly loved her eight living children and they in turn adored her. They often spoke lovingly of her devotion to them and in return they would shower her with their attention, providing her with anything that she might need as she grew old. She must have been an exceptional mother to have earned the total admiration of her wildly diverse offspring.
My father was a Renaissance man who was an expert at anything he tried to do. He was a mathematician, scientist, engineer, poet, artist, architect, builder, sports enthusiast, historian, traveler. He seized life and rejoiced in the inventiveness of humans. He was able to converse with anyone on virtually any topic. The world was his wheelhouse and he challenged me to seize it just as he had done
Then there was my precious mother whose life was so filled with one tragedy after another that she might have become bitter and nobody would have blamed her. Instead she focused on the needs of other people rather than her own. She found joy in every single day even when the depression of her bipolar disorder tried to overtake her. She found comfort in her Bible and her prayers. She listened to the Astros games on her radio and celebrated their victories in spite of her own darkness. She pushed outside of herself and got well again and again by giving succur to others.
I suppose that the common theme that I have garnered from studying all of my ancestors is that they found joy in living authentic lives that were not so much measured by titles or possessions or money but by truly being themselves, using the talents that came so naturally to them. Each of them looked forward into the future rather than focusing on on past grievances. Each honored the dignity of their fellow humans and taught their children to do the same. Each focused on hope rather than doom. It is a path that they built for me and my brothers. It is now my turn to do the same for my children and grandchildren and all of the others yet to come. I try each day to joyfully be the ancestor that I believe my descendants need me to be. This life was never just about me. It was always about them. This I learned from the wonderful people who came before me.
All It Takes Is A Little Love 