Discovering the Family Tree

In case you missed it, I have spent the past year or so rooting around in my Dad's brain, searching for good memories to share. For the last few months, I have been doing some rooting around in his memorabilia, as well. 

Introducing the Tony Trock Memory Box:

Steamer Trunk as Memory Keeper

 It's kinda big, cause he's kinda old. I mean, he's been around a long time. I mean, he's done a lot of living, and you can't contain all that in one sad little file box. 

Inside the box are things like his 8^th grade diploma, a map of California (he loooves maps), a set of protractors and compasses, the wooden bowl his sister hand-turned for him, and the worn-out collar of his dog, Heidi. There’s also his trusty leather money belt that he never used to carry money, but rather as a handy bottle-opener. And, perhaps most dear to his heart, a VHS tape of his Chicago Bears, from their Jim McMahon-led Super Bowl season.

Inside the memories

  

It has been, to say the least, enlightening to go through boxes with him. He doesn’t have much of a filing system: I found his Navy records in the same box as three blank notepads, a special issue of Sports Illustrated (Walter Peyton tribute), 5 inkless pens, some drywall screws, maps of the Bay Area, and a handful of birthday cards. To be fair, he’s moved around so much, it’s probably just been easier to sweep everything from one area into a box, tape it up, and deal with it later. Not that any of you have ever done such a thing. Nope.

Happy Engagement!

As I’ve rummaged through the accumulated detritus of decades, I have also discovered numerous family photos, taken by Dad, mailed to him by siblings, collected from schools and weddings and vacations. My favorites are the slides, which seem like little surprise parties, just waiting for the confetti. I’ve found four-generation pictures, childhood memories, and even my parents’ engagement pose.

Finding all of those old pictures inspired me to get to know my family tree a little better. I know I have tried to introduce you to some of the family, but it can get a little confusing. Just in case anyone has gotten lost with all of the "Tonys" floating around, I am hereby including an abbreviated family tree for clarification. 

Three Generations of Tonys

 Anton "Tony Sr." is Dad's grandfather, the one who emigrated from Hungary in the early 1900s. He was married to Raisie, who made the strudel. 

Anton "Tony Jr." is my Dad's father, who moved the family from Chicago to Lake Zurich, and built them a house. Tony Jr. was married to Martha Lucille, whom everyone called Lucille, or even Lou.

Lucille's parents, John "Jack" and Agnes "Nonnie" (of, "don't call me Grandma!" fame) divorced at some point in the 30s, and Nonnie left for California, coming back occasionally to check in on her daughter's growing family. Grandpa Jack stayed put, living in Illinois until he passed away. 

Then there's my Dad, Tony, who was known as "Sonny" until he left home and joined the Navy. He's married to Cory (who isn't on the tree graphic). 

Nonnie, 1 yr old--this was labeled!

Right now, I’m perusing the oldest photos, trying to figure out just exactly who these people are. Here is a friendly PSA—label your photos as accurately as you can, with first and last names, dates, and places. Your kids and grandkids will thank you. I showed Dad some album pages I had put together, but he could only remember one or two things (“Oh, those are Nonnie’s step relatives—they were a real pain!” Or, “That’s my cousin,” said in a tone of disgust).

                                                      

There are some very good reasons for writing this post. Families should share their stories. Once the story keeper is gone, so are the stories. These tales remind us of who we are, where we came from, and what is truly important. Label the pictures. Record the stories. Remember.