Years ago my younger sister Joan gave me an envelope of notes and a copy of the speech my mother gave at the Mundelein Historical Society in the 1980’s. Having only glanced at it briefly, I didn’t realize what a treasure my mother had handed down to her children and grandchildren by recording her life stories on paper. I came across the envelope in our garage last fall while I was organizing our ever-revolving collection of books that don’t fit in the house. I meant to bring it in, but got distracted. Well, I found it again this Easter weekend, lying right were I had left it on the top of a shelf of my favorite books. This time I sat spellbound as I read the contents, seeing for the first time my mother’s ability to paint a picture of her life in descriptive words and phrases. An aspiring artist (she loved to paint), I think she finally arrived by filling 15 typewritten pages with a narrative of precious memories about the experiences from her girlhood days in the 1930’s, and those of the by-gone eras of her parents and grandparents.     

 An excerpt from “Shady Nest” by June (Konvalinka) Reid 

      “I often think of days gone by which can only live in my memory. They were happy days filled with the delight of my surroundings. Grandpa and Grandma Cerney had decided a long time before I was born that they would have a summer house out at Diamond Lake. Mother told me of her girlhood days and how they traveled by train from Chicago to the country station in Mundelein, Illinois (then named Rockefeller), which was two miles from Diamond Lake.

     Mother had three sisters—Emily, Helen, and Libby—and a brother named Henry. They would all board a hay wagon with Grandpa Cerney sitting up with the driver, his hand holding a cigar with one foot upon a large trunk. As mother told me, I envisioned him seated there in his trim suit (he was a tailor by trade) and his huge mustache. He definitely was the head of his family, and each one of them knew it. The girls would gather around Grandma, her beautiful face all aglow as they enjoyed the two mile ride to “Shady Nest” at Diamond Lake.

     Upon their arrival, each would perform their assigned duties, from making beds to fetching the water from the well where they would pump it up into buckets. After chores were attended to, mother would run down the hill behind the house to sit among the wild flowers and weave wreaths to crown her hair. Not too far from where she sat was the lake, sparkling like diamonds as the sun shone upon it. Like her, I spent many hours dreaming in a world filled with the scent of wild flowers, soft lake breezes, and the warm summer sun shining down about my shoulders. Childhood is such a beautiful place to be, and when the time comes, no one wants to leave it…” 

     My mother not only wrote about her days on the lake, but she recorded them on tape as well. At my sister's request, she narrated many of the same stories in June of 1987 (the year she died), adding details that weren’t in the written account. I learned that my great-grandmother was an orphan, and that she and my grandfather met at a boarding house in Chicago. They had eight children, but only five survived.

      I excitedly called my sister June in Maine today. She’s six years older than I am, and I wondered if she remembered hearing any of our mother’s stories. “Did you know Mom left an account of her childhood at Diamond Lake?” I asked. “No,” she replied. “Well wait until you hear this!” For the next hour I read the detailed vignettes one after another. June was just as astonished at mom’s writing as I was.

       I found a scrap of paper in the envelope with these words written upon it – “gloomy day of winter—contrast of city and country, frozen windowpanes with their lovely frosted designs, blowing holes in the glass to see through. Legacy of June or June’s Legacy.” My mother realized she had a story to tell future generations.

      Besides her touching accounts, I think my mother left another kind of legacy—one that shows us the wisdom of how to record life stories from the past. If you’re interested in preserving your childhood stories for your family you might benefit from the way my mother recorded hers. Here are a few suggestions.

• Don’t assume your children will remember the oral accounts of your childhood stories. Write them down.

• Carry a writer’s notebook with you at all times. When you remember an experience jot down phrases or impressions as they come to mind. Develop the full story later.

• Write and rewrite. Because my mother was writing a speech, she wrote several versions of the same experiences. She wasn’t able to delete sentences easily because she was working on a typewriter. Feeling that some thoughts were inappropriate for the historical society, she crossed out quite a few sentences in pencil, but I was still able to read them. I’m glad because they showed me how she felt about certain incidents. The more you write about a particular subject the more details will surface.

• Consider making an audio recording of your stories as well. Hearing your voice will be a comfort to your children, and speaking stories out loud can bring out details that you may have forgotten to mention in the written account.

• To the best of your ability, keep a family tree for your children. There was a copy in my mother’s papers of a letter that my Dad’s mother wrote to him including our ancestry dating back to the year 1650. I have a lot of names to investigate now, including that of a United States Senator.

      I’m so proud of my mother. She persevered against a debilitating illness to record the precious stories of her childhood, and it wasn’t in vain. It would thrill her to know that the bright light of her life burns on in the hearts of her children and grandchildren. I am eternally grateful for the Legacy of June.