vintage memories
One woman takes a tradition from her childhood and passes it to the next generation, with respect and heirloom flowers. Spring R vival n addition to the very tangible revival occurring outside in spring, the season awakens something inside the human spirit. It causes a stirring that we nearly forgot existed. For Barb Schoen, this transition — from the long, dead Minnesota winters of her childhood — is highlighted by the enduring memory of her mother’s meticulous tending of her lilacs, lilies of the valley and peonies, that began each spring. “Momwould spend hours in the garden. She lined it with rocks that she spray painted to look just like she wanted them,” Barb remembered. “She was the original ‘DIYer.’ She would get an idea of what she wanted something to look like and figure out a way to do it on her own.” Each year, Barb and her six siblings would gather the flowers their mother had labored over, wrap the plant ends with wet paper towels, and place them in a sandwich bag. They would carry these spring treasures to the bus stop and wait for the bus to take them to the cemetery. “I never met my grandparents, so this is the way that I got to know them,” Barb said. “Mom would tell stories about her mom and dad as we visited.” The family would offer the cherished blossoms to these bygone relatives who they were learning to love with each story that was told. “This taught me that cemeteries are not scary, but places where you can go to share memories and talk to loved ones,” Barb said. These experiences were formative for Barb, and they instilled in her a great appreciation for the lives that have gone before her and the ways that people are united through a common story. She has carried this tradition into adulthood. With her own children, she adorns the graves of loved ones each spring, reviving through story the personalities that are no longer embodied. She also led a group of women in the celebration of their shared friend, Colleen. “Colleen has been gone for 14 years,” Barb said. “We visit her on her birthday, but we don’t just bring flowers; we bring everything we need for a tea party. We put out a quilt and share memories of her. We laugh and we cry, and this brings us closer to her and closer together.” As Barb’s own parents reached the end of their lives, it was important to her that she honor them and convene with them in the same way. Before moving her parents into an assisted living home, she made sure that she and her siblings salvaged the bulbs and seeds from her mother’s garden. She planted these in her own garden, and she now shadows the motions of her mother’s careful hand when the sun kindles the numbness of the passing winter. They bloom each spring, in the same way that they did when she was a child. On her mother’s “first Mother’s Day in heaven,” as Barb refers to it, she and her siblings had brunch at Ft. Snelling National Cemetery, read from their mother’s prayer books and said the Rosary together. On this day and all visits since, she and her family share stories like the ones her mother used to tell. They laugh, they cry, and they draw nearer to one another. She brings with her the tangible sign that the memories of her parents still stir within her, and that she holds her mother and father near. She leaves this symbol at their resting place and reminds them both that they are to share this gift that they first shared with her. I By Quinn White
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Photos from top: Barb Schoen’s parents; lilacs from her garden; her sister Trish reads from their mother’s prayer book; and her brother Bob sharing memories at Ft. Snelling National Cemetery.
VintageKC / Spring 2014 46
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