Say My Name! 6/16/20

In Mexican tradition there are three deaths: The first is when the body ceases to function. The second is when the body is consigned to the grave. The third is that moment, sometime in the future, when your name is spoken for the last time.

In our explorations (and with two dear friends)we have become the guardians  of an amazing cabin that was built around the turn of the century (1900).  

What originally appeared as  trash and garbage has become a time capsule that documents the life of a family.

Report cards, discarded school assignments about a favorite pet, bills from local granaries for seed, and even the occasional bill of sale for a cow or a bull or railroad ties cut from the timber on the property. In sum, they paint a picture of a life of a family.  An experience completely different from my own. 

There is no bathroom, because among other things there is no running water.  There is no heat save a double sided fireplace that served all three rooms of the cabin.  And of course, coal was the primary source of heat. 

Eventually a wood burning stove was brought in to help with food and warmth.  But all that remains is a discarded pipe, a hole in the chimney, and a severely bowed floor. 

What I once thought of as trash has revealed itself as  having a higher purpose.  They kept whatever paper and old clothes and newspapers they could find to use as simple insulation against Mother Nature. 

And then we found Aunt Lizzie’s letters.  It has become the highlight itself to see if we can find “just one more” off white paper envelope, mouse chewed and weathered by 60 years of time.

Every family must have had an Aunt Lizzy. She was honest and raw in her opinions but she loved so unconditionally. 

These people are long gone and they are buried up the hill in a forgotten graveyard.  For some reason,  we have been choosen to continue their story. To give them another chance to have their names spoken. 

The cliche question of course is: “who will say our name”? What are we leaving behind for future generations to be caretakers of?  Not the material stuff, necessarily. Who will we love unconditionally?  Who will we leave to speak our name? 

So, I give you Caswell W “Cas” Hoskins (1887-1967) and Lillie Brown Hoskins (and their three children:  Francis Ruth Hoskins (1914-1914), William Harlan Hoskins (1918-1982), and James C Hoskins (1921-2008). 

And of course,  to you Aunt Lizzie! May we never forget your name. 

May your names be read and spoken forever.