Seldom in life do circumstances of both fact and fiction collide better than in an oral or story tradition. Early Native Americans, as well as the ancient African tribes, had no written words, alphabets or even letters. Their privative drawings and sketches had to be interpreted by the tribal elders and storytellers. Much if not all of their histories were simple life lessons repeated around their camp fires and in their dwellings. Yet these tales were remarkably accurate and true. They relied on these oral traditions in order to know where and when to hunt the great herds of buffalo or gazelle, were to find water on the dry plains and deserts, and which locations provided the best shelter during the cold winter months or scorching summers.
These stories often included the exploits of the tribal leaders, war chiefs and heroes. These tales were meant to impart life lessons and provide examples to future generations. How was “greatness” achieved? Great battles, strategic decisions and even “blind luck” were often the catalysts for these often repeated oral traditions. Great leadership is often the result of following the examples set by our ancestors. And these examples were almost always spoken, told and re-told.
Such was the case in my family, a family I was adopted into. But instead of camp fires and simple drawings, we had our family room, long drives, photographs and super-8 movies. I loved these times. My parents Betty and Arthur not only had a wonderful memories, but also documented and preserved these memories with a huge assortment of slides, photos, and newspaper and magazine articles. I would spent hours looking through old scrap books and albums. When I would find something new or of interest, my parents would stop what they were doing and tell me the story of this picture or why this article was written about someone with our same last name.
I soon realized how fortunate I was to have been adopted into this amazing group/family. Not only were they wealthy, well-known and connected, but they had a treasure trove of characters in their family tree. One of these extraordinary characters is my maternal grandfather Edward Orrick McDonnell, or Eddie as he was called.
Being the youngest grandchild, name-sake and the only one in my generation not to have known or met Eddie McDonnell, it was left to my parents Betty and Art to regale me with tales of this remarkable hero and man. As young child, I would imagine myself going off to war, hunting in Africa or South America, and sharing adventures with this truly extraordinary individual. I often thought how unfair it was that I didn’t get to meet him. Why did my sisters and cousins get to share in his successes, know is love and create their own memories of him, but not me? I have recently realized, with the death of my parents, that he left me something far more lasting and valuable than money. Admiral Edward Orrick McDonnell left me his legacy. He left me his story. This is that story. Told, re-told, written and remembered.
1 Comment
Edward McDonnell Kendall · June 9, 2022 at 9:37 pm
Congratulations Edward, I can’t wait to see the book. Thanks for your efforts. Poppa certainly was one of a kind. I will Give you a call, Love and congrats , your cousin Eddie