Alexandria, VA – Thanksgiving. Christmas. New Year’s. They’re coming. Families and friends will gather. These are very good times to harvest memories.
In the fall of 2024 I hosted cousins on my mother’s side of the family and their children for what came to be named my “Farewell Tour.”
It is likely I will not see many of the cousins again.
As children we cousins lived close by and we saw each other most every week. Now although my children live fairly close by, the cousins are scattered across the country.
Not everyone I hoped to see could come but I asked those who did to email me a memory. True to my reputation as an archivist, I assembled their replies into a word doc and sent out copies. I had bought a portable tape recorder/player for the reunion, but never used it.
I’m really happy to have the word doc.
I’m pleased too that my column “On Story Telling” in the July edition of The Zebra “On Story Telling” inspired positive comments and some friends shared their memories. One wrote,
“… I remember on my 12th birthday, my parents gave me a very small transistor radio. It was a totally unexpected gift and a brand new thing at the time. We were traveling on board a large naval transport ship, headed as a family overseas to live for two years. My birthday occurred when we were exactly halfway across the seemingly endless span of the Pacific Ocean. Dad was a naval officer, and we were going with him to his new base. So, on that birthday, when I was at sea, crossing a truly immense ocean, I was going who knows where and had no idea what life would be like when I arrived. But, I had my new tiny radio with me from then on. Somehow, I felt ready for whatever would follow. In fact, the radio became a special friend. It gave me so much joy. Even the science of it fascinated me. Wow, how does a radio work even at sea, or in a foreign land? What are radio waves? I was amazed by all I could hear as I shifted the tuning dial. Soon, I even found myself dancing to some of the music being played.”
Her memory sparked another of mine. That’s the thing about memories: one opens the door to another.
Backstory: I am challenged by all numbers. If there is such a thing as numeric dyslexia, I am a classic example. When I went to school, New York had a statewide Regent examination in core subjects that one had to pass in order to graduate.
First administered in 1866, they served as a measure of student achievement aligned with New York’s learning standards. Now the exam is being phased out but then I needed to score at least 65% in mathematics to graduate. I wasn’t worried about the other subjects.
To prepare, I spent a Christmas vacation with my father’s brother’s family in Albany. Uncle Sherman was a math whiz. Legend has it that he got a 99% on his math Regent exam and was allowed to retake it, aiming for a 100%. He got 99% the second time too.
Uncle Sherm would assign me a past Regent exam before he left for work, check it when he came home, and coach me on what I got wrong. After a week of his intense tutoring, I scored 75% on the math Regent exam.
Another part of that memory was related to radios. I was trying to tune into a New York City radio station while I was in Albany. There was a pop DJ I listened to in Brooklyn who played requests from kids and announced who they were dedicated to. I hoped to hear a song dedicated to me by whomever it was I had a crush on. I could faintly hear the station but alas never heard a song dedicated to me.
I write down my memories and musings because when I was young and my parents and grandparents were alive, I never thought to ask them what their lives were like. And if by chance, they told me, I didn’t listen. I didn’t hear their stories.
I’ve said this before but will say it again — record your stories. They are testaments to our place in the universe.
Mosaic artist/photographer Nina Tisara is founder of Living Legends of Alexandria
