What happens when a family tree grows so large and individual branches mature and grow limbs with Schellhardt(y) leaves of their own? What happens to the root system of that tree? Does anyone remember that the roots need to be tended and maintained?
Do the budding leaves of that family tree know about those roots?
Who remembers a German boy named Max and his American-born wife Anna? Who remembers the tone of his voice, the cadence of her speech, the firmness of his handshake, the sound of her laugh? Who remembers their dreams, their hopes, their joys, their sorrows?
Who remembers that before there was all of us, they planted the roots of our family tree?
What if it’s too late to remember? What, then, have we lost?
Recently, at two separate parties with two separate branches of Schellhardt families, there were conversations about capturing those memories and sharing old family photos and the few family records that exist so that everyone in our extended family can understand and appreciate the roots from which we all grew.
And I thought…well, it’s up to me. Number 33. The youngest child of Max and Anna’s youngest child. The last of their grandchildren. Maybe it’s true what they say about saving the best for last…
This is my gift to them and to you – the Schellhardt generations – by birth, marriage, adoption, or happenstance.
And I hope you will contribute to this project as we tend to our roots. So we remember.
Stay tuned for more information!