Momentous Treasures

by Ericka Ward (United States of America)

Making a local connection USA

Momentous Treasures A trip to Illinois By Ericka Ward “It’s so big, I almost broke my neck trying to look up at it.” My grandmother smirks at me. Bending down to get a better angle of the world’s largest wind chimes, “Well, we better not let that happen, or I’ll be leaving you behind in Effingham.” “Ha-ha, you think you’re so clever, don’t you.” She swipes at my shoulder. Nodding toward the store with the giant, wooden shoes, where we’d just left, “Well, if the shoe fits…” She laughs, I laugh. “Can you just imagine how they put it all together?” I look up to see her staring at the over-sized and fully functional chimes. Both of her arms spread wide, as if she was displaying the size of her catch in a recent fishing expedition. She’s a tiny woman, but not frail. She’s gritty and determined. Cleaning houses her entire life, she’d mop the floors on her hands and knees. A recent surgery made it impossible for her to clean this way, but every time she’d start by squatting down, like, just maybe things had changed and she’d suddenly regain this former ability. Casey, Illinois isn’t on our agenda. We are on our way to Effingham, Illinois to search for a small graveyard in the countryside. It is where my grandmother’s family is buried. Estranged from her mother after marriage to my grandfather, she only saw her once afterward. Walking through Casey, searching the treasures, we pose at the pencil to appear to be writing, climb the mailbox to deliver a postcard, spin the wooden top as many times as possible, and wish we could rock in the giant rocking chair. Treasure-hunting large items isn’t hard. Looking for a small, family graveyard in rural Illinois, now that’s a challenge. Stopping in Effingham and gathering sustenance at a coffee shop, Joe Sippers, we chat about how to find this place. “Oh, I bet Delma will know how to get there!” My grandma looks at my phone and points, “Call and ask her. I think Richard and her took a trip down here and showed me photos.” Finishing the warm chocolate chip scone, I wipe my hands on my skirt and type in the number. Delma is my grandmother’s sister-in-law. Confirming they’d been, but it was a few years ago and she couldn’t remember how they’d found it. She did mention the local library might be able to help. “Look, look! I have it. This has to be it, right?” Grandma said, reading through the genealogical records. “Wow! I can’t believe you found it! This is so cool! I’ll put it in GPS and we can check to see how much farther we need to go. It’s only 45 minutes!” Driving through farms and gravel roads, we imagined how they lived and traveled to find this place, and make it a home. “Why do you think she left here to go to Indianapolis?” “Well, I don’t think she did. From what I remember she was going to Chicago with her sister, but in the process, they stopped in Indianapolis, where she met my dad, and I guess decided to stay with him and get married.” Grandma looked out the window and when we turned to where the road seemed to end, looked back to me and asked, “Is this it? I don’t see anything here but some houses.” The map says I have to go a little farther, off road, through this path of trees. Driving through a narrow grass lane, we reach a small opening. There in the midst of the forest, a small graveyard. We were both taken by its beauty. Hilly and dappled in sunlight, we made our way through the rows of headstones, searching the names. Toward the far right, and back, we found the McGuires. Grandma kneeled. Putting my hand on her shoulder, I said, “Thank you for raising this incredible woman. Thank you for your life and sacrifices, so we can both be here, together, in this moment.” I left her alone for a bit. When she stood up, I came back to the grave, offering my own treasures to leave in gratitude.