Treasure Chest - Written Word

Related Link: Treasure Chest - Video

When I was a preschooler, my mother kept a box in her closet. It looked like a miniature pirate's chest. She let me reach in there and pull things out — old photos, Grandma's scrapbook, a very old game of pick up sticks. Mom called this her treasure chest. I asked her why.

"Because, sweetheart, my mother died when I was 14. These were her things, and they helped me feel close to her when I was sad.” 

I thought that chest was almost magical, and I wished I could meet Grandma Grace. It didn't seem fair that some of my friends had grandmothers nearby to rock them and kiss them and make them yummy cookies.

As I got older I forgot all about the treasure chest. We adopted a baby boy, and I was busy helping him learn to play baseball and important things like that. Then in 1971 we lost my little brother to an accident. I was 12, just two years younger than Mom was when Grandma Grace died. I remember being really lonely. I tried to stay busy with school, but then came Christmas vacation - long days in that quiet house. 

One day I found that old box on my bed with a note in Mom's handwriting: "Nancy's Treasure Chest." I reached in and pulled out Grandma's scrapbook. The front cover was missing. The whole thing was faded and hard to read. A blurry photo fell out of the back of the book. It's hard to make out, but this is my Grandma, Grace Sophia McGuffin, with her twin brother Edgar and their mother, there in the snow with the horses. 

Mary, Edgar, and Grace McGuffin around 1910-15, Line, SD

Back behind them you can see the faint outline of a sod house. I looked through the box for more photos. Here's a better photo of that sod house. Doesn't Uncle Edgar look dapper? 

Mary and Edgar McGuffin, early 1900s.

And here’s a better photo of the twins. They were born in Michigan in 1891. Grace attended Battle Creek college and taught school in South Dakota until she married my grandfather, Elmer Olson, in 1915. They started a family and moved to Portland, Oregon, where Gramps worked as a carpenter. They attended the Sunnyside Seventh-day Adventist Church. Two of their children died in infancy -- one a few days after birth, and the other from pneumonia at 14 months. My aunt told me that Grace first found out she had breast cancer in 1931. After surgery, it seemed to be gone, but then in 1934 it came back, taking her life in January of 1935. She left behind six children ages three through sixteen.

I started reading the scrapbook. The first page is filled with poetry. Here's the first stanza of a poem by Robert Whitaker. He was a Baptist minister in the Pacific Northwest. I remember being enchanted with her handwriting.

After that there were several pages of grammar rules. I wonder if she wrote these as a student, or if she used them when she was teaching school. Based on all the things my mother and aunt told me, Grace didn't stop teaching when her employment ended. She just changed from a classroom of pupils to a house full of children, so I wouldn't be surprised if Mom got an ear full of these grammar lessons.

The book has page after page of newspaper clippings. Here's a handy tip. "Did you know that gum may be removed from cloth if the spot is saturated with gasoline?" 

After the tips were recipes. I took the book to the kitchen. "Hey Mom, can we make this apple pie recipe from Grandma's book?" We ended up making the pie and some peanut butter cookies. And it felt like Grandma was in the kitchen with us as we sliced and stirred. I hadn’t had that much fun in weeks!

We did not try to make this recipe. This is for fake meat. It calls for a pound of peanuts and five pounds of flour. 

Then I found a list of books. "Hey Dad, will you take me to the library to check out these books that Grandma recommends?" 

We got Little Women and Little Men, and as I was reading them, it felt like Grandma was sitting next to me, like I could lean right up against her while I read. Way up at the top of this list it says "1918." That's when the Spanish Flu was killing people all over the world. It's my family's pandemic reading list for the 20th century.

Here are some riddles. Why is it illegal for a man to possess a short walking stick? Because it can never be long to him. Har Har. I tried that one on Gramps, and I thought I could hear Grandma Grace whisper in my ear, "See there? He almost smiled!"  

Thanks to my mother, I’ve been using this scrapbook to get acquainted and re-acquainted with Grandma ever since. And I've learned a lot too, as I looked up the authors of her poems, read the books on her list, rolled my eyes at her riddles, played some of the sheet music, and scanned through her household tips.

You people who run out to the store and pay money for Sudoko, here's how Grandma did it.

And finally, I came across a page of my mother's handwriting. How old do you suppose she was here?

If you inherit a scrapbook, I have a few suggestions. If it's fragile, make a good copy. Then go through it slowly, so you don't hit information overload. Ask some questions. Do you see trends? What subjects did the creator find the most fascinating? When was the book made? What was going on in history then?

What is Grace Sophia McGuffin's legacy? From her book, I would say she was fond of pickles, and potatoes, and really bad puns. She liked to collect ideas, write things down, read great books, and use good grammar. Her children and extended family tell me that she was kind and had a gentle sense of humor. She sewed all their clothes. They liked the potatoes she made for dinner after church. They liked her to butter their toast all the way to the edges. They liked it when she set up a little salon in the dining room and cut their hair.   

If I were to choose one thing about her, one thing that really stands out, it's the fact that her teaching career was over in 1915, but her lessons still live on. Years after her death, she had a tremendous impact on my life, thanks in part to the contents of that Treasure Chest.