We began our time with Writer's Agreements and then it was right into STORIES. As I was brainstorming about cultural stories, I realized how very lucky I was to grow up in a family that truly treasured their Welsh Heritage. My dad was so proud of his family's origins.
My dad loved being a part of the Cambrian Benevolent Society. I think some of my favorite childhood party memories are from the St. David's Day Banquets. March 1 was a BIG holiday in our house because of it. At church when we would be singing hymns, I also remember my dad often pointing out details at the bottom of hymnal pages where it would say "Welsh hymn." Attending an annual Gymanva Ganu (not said at all how it is spelled...) was also a great part of growing up Welsh.
I have so many other pieces to cultural stories---things like Bible stories and fairytales but today I wanted to reflect and reminisce on what it means to grow up in a Welsh home.
Let's talk about language. On Christmas, my dad LOVED calling everyone he knew early in the morning and saying, "Nadolig Llawen!" My dad loved getting to see people on Christmas Day and say this too. He always hoped we would say back to him, "Ac i chithau." (back at you) Even more of a favorite for my dad seemed to be, "Blwyddyn Newydd Dda!" New beginnings or second chances were definitely something my dad was big on.
In 1986, we got a call from the Chicago Tribune that they were running a special in their Sunday Magazine about different heritages that could be found in the Chicagoland area. One super early morning, my dad woke me up and drove me downtown to the Chicago Tribune building to meet with 50+ other kids about my age who were dressed in different "costumes" to represent their nationality. We stood on the roof of that building as the sun came up. Then once we had all been photographed individually, we took 2 group photos: 1 in our costume and one where we all wore matching yellow Chicagoans All shirts.
The only time I ever actually "lived" in Chicago was during my Golden Apple Summers at DePaul University (June/July 1994 and 1995) but Chicago was the home my dad loved! He knew the city so well that even when I was at DePaul University, he was the one I would ask for directions anywhere.
I loved running the Chicago races that I've run because it was fun to think of it as another way I could connect with my dad.
This post was not this way in my head. I actually had intended to write more about those fun St. David's Day banquets where the Shirley Temples were consumed by the dozens and the dancing was as uncoordinated as popcorn popping over a hot fire; but this is what came out in print. I thought I'd be writing about the embarrassment of my dad wearing his skirt (he called it a kilt but we all saw it for what it was).... So many stories going through my mind. I'll be back to share more of my stories again soon.
There are SO MANY STORIES that I have been thinking over in my mind since Saturday morning! My biggest struggle when I am writing is that I still don't know "my" story. I think I need to be more open to accepting my story, too. There are so many times that I protect myself from my own story.
“Carve your name on hearts, not tombstones. A legacy is etched into the minds of others and the stories they share about you.”
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