Jim Bradshaw: Resolve to record long memories in 2025

 Whatever gift for storytelling that I may have began when I was quite young, sitting at my grandfather Gallaugher’s knee. My ears, and those of all of his grandchildren, would perk up when he said, “I remember the time when …” and begin to tell a tale.
He was a great storyteller, and told true stories — at least true to his memory — about our family and about the times, places, and circumstances that created our particular history. As he began to age, I realized that he was the sole depository of a wealth of information about the dry names on our genealogical chart, and that all that he knew would be lost — along with his way of storytelling — with his death.
That’s why I got out the tape recorder — this was in the days before all sorts of other recording devices were in every home — and interviewed him for several hours. It was one of the most satisfying, and sometimes surprising, things that I have done, and led me to sit down with my grandmother, mom and dad, aunts and uncles, and older neighbors to capture their lives and memories on tape.
Some of their stories were funny, some of them not so. You could feel the fear and worry in my grandmother’s recollections of the days during World War II when her boys were in faraway and dangerous places. They came home unhurt, but that didn’t change the worry while they were gone. My grandfather had his own recollections of World War I.
Sometimes I got insights that I would have never had without these interviews. For example, I was very young when my grandfather Bradshaw died and I have no real recollection of him. I know that he came to Louisiana from England as a young man, met and married a Cajun girl, and ran the family farm near Vinton in Calcasieu Parish.
I’d assumed that he spoke with the same Texas twang as most of the people of the Calcasieu prairies, so it surprised me when my aunt told me, “You know, I think lots of people thought Poppa was smarter than he was, just because he had that British accent.”
Of course he had a British accent! He was a grown man when he came to the United States. But I’d never thought of it, and that changed my idea of the man I knew only from a few old letters, a brief obituary, and a photo of a fellow with a handlebar mustache.
Those early interviews also helped me learn an important and satisfying part of my trade. Over the years, I have had the opportunity to tape extended interviews with some of south Louisiana’s leaders and, even more gratifying, helped to gather oral histories from the dying generation of World War II veterans, many of whom told their amazing stories for the first time.
Most of my tapes were destroyed in a house fire some years ago, but I still remember most of the stories and am still influenced by them.
My grandfather Gallaugher was in his early 90s when I interviewed him, but was still as sharp as a tack. One of my first questions to him as we sat in the living room of the old family home on the Lake Charles lake bank was, “Have you lived here all your life?”
His quick answer: “Not yet.”
It was a good answer. He lived another five or six years and was almost 100 when he died. My parents and aunts and uncles are also gone. But before they left, they helped turn dry genealogical charts into a gallery of real people who led full and remembered lives, and helped bring alive for me the history of my family and the place where I grew up.
Make it your resolution this year that you are going to sit down and talk with your parents, grandparents, and older family members to listen to their stories, ask them questions. You’ll find out not only more about who they are, but more about who you are.
Do it now because, before you realize it, you’ll be the older person who is holder of old memories and stories to pass on.
You can contact Jim Bradshaw at jimbradshaw4321@gmail.com or P.O. Box 1121, Washington LA 70589.