by Lucy Schmudde, published 2023 
Memories by Lucy Schmudde
A generation-spanning collection of memories from my late grandmother.
This book is a collection of memories written down by my grandmother Lucy Schmudde. The final product is a family affair: the original idea and encouragement came from her granddaughters, Travis (my sister) and Lauren; my father served as something of a genealogist and record-keeper - analyzing artifacts such as travel logs, ancestor trees, and Lucy’s school records to provide context for the entries; and my uncle formatted and bound the entire effort into a handsome hardcover book. He then printed enough copies so that everyone in the family got one.
Lucy’s first entries were written in 2010. Which means that this entire effort spanned decades. It’s a lot of work, but it’s the kind of work that really matters. In our youth-obsessed, networked world, putting so much care into a cultural artifact so small is almost an act of counterculture. It’s the type of project that I hope everyone reading this post has time for in their lives. If we don’t - and many of us do not - perhaps it’s time to orient ourselves and our social values in that direction.
I won’t say much about my grandmother in this post. Those thoughts were made public when I spoke at her funeral a few years ago. This write-up is really about the artifact itself. By sharing the joy it has brought to my life, I hope others will be inspired to start their own similar projects.
Here’s an entry from October 16, 2014 which felt particularly resonant to me:
Since I am a pack-rat and never throw anything away, I saved this article published in the Nebraska Magazine in 1956 when my cousins founded a scholarship named in memory of their mother (my aunt Lucy).
Indeed, the book includes a copy of the article on the scholarship (which remains active today):
Article on the Lucy Keifer Bell Memorial Scholarship Fund (1956)
Lucy goes on to enumerate the teachers in our family. There were the five in the article. Lucy herself taught in Alliance, Nebraska for a few years and worked as a substitute teacher in Peoria, Illinois. Her mother taught physical education in the Chicago Public Schools. Her brother Fred was at Cornell University for over 40 years. Her cousin John taught at Arizona State University in Tempe, Arizona and John’s brother Warren taught at Kansas State University.
These facts frame my own decade of teaching at Stevens Institute of Technology and the Illinois Institute of Art.
The generational echos also manifest physically - I have found myself in the same places she recalls in this book. From remote locales such as Nebraska, USA and Sardinia, Italy to more common destinations such as Bath, UK and Rogers Park in Chicago.
The book’s memories and records help me reach even further back. Lucy’s mother was a global traveler. When asked how she could afford such excursions, she replied that she saved money by not owning a car - something I also know a bit about. Though I have to imagine it’s a lot easier to live without a car in a city like Turin, Italy (where I currently live) than it would be in mid-20th century Nebraska.
On one hand, I don’t want to make too much of the familial parallels in this book. On the other hand, memory is lineal as both a hereditary and cultural force. A lifetime lasts much longer than the span of once’s life - Lucy’s accounts are a testament to this fact.
Postscript
I originally wrote this entry on 17-November-2024. It just so happens that two years earlier on the exact same day, 17-November-2022, I was writing something about my other grandmother in my personal journal. Here’s what I wrote about Granny:
A compliment can engender unexpected results. Certainly that is the most enjoyable for both parties. It’s cold in my office and I hate typing with cold fingers. For the first time this season I am wearing a pair of blue gloves my grandmother made me. I took a video call with [my co-worker] Rakesh in Kathmandu this morning and he complemented my gloves. His compliment allowed me to talk about and share the magic of Granny. That was the highlight of my day.