Last Interview with Walking Fox, Kiwakootiwati, John H. Haddox (original) (raw)
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Oral History Interview with Dr. Jack Lane
2005
Zhang: Today is Thursday, May 5, 2005. My name is Wenxien Zhang, head of Archives Special Collections. Today we have Dr. Jack Lane here, going to be interviewed by me in the Rollins College Oral History Archive project. My first question, Doctor Lane: I understand most of the people who live here in Florida today come from somewhere else, so could you please share with me some of your family background? Lane: Yes, I did. Like others, many many others, I come from someplace else. I was reared in a rural part of Texas about twenty miles from Austin, the capital. I was born in 1932 at the depths of the Depression. After I started teaching American History I found out how bad things really were. I didn't particularly realize it that much when I was a kid, but my family were [very poor]. We lived on a brick manufacturing company where my family worked as common laborers. The company provided all the housing. They had a company store there. I do remember a couple of times my mother saying that they had received no sal[ary]-My father'd received no salary because all of the money that he had made that month had gone into buying groceries and clothing and things from the company store. So often we had-there was just no-there was just nothing but bills in the pay envelope. My family were not educated people at all. They were literate, all of them could read or write, but I think no one in my very large extended family had gone past the eighth grade. I think my mother did go as far as the eighth grade. That was my extended family from uncles and cousins. I was the second one to graduate from high school, and no one in my family had gone to college. I was the first to go on to college, and my family didn't even know what a Ph.D. was. I mean they'd never even heard of one when I got a degree. So I came from that sort of background. There was never any discussion as to whether I would go to college or not. No one ever mentioned it to me. A history teacher in high school asked me if I thought about college and I told him,-No, for one thing my family couldn't afford to send me.‖ I got a job. I'd left this little home, this little country town, and gone to Austin to work. And when I was drafted in the Korean War, and it was-that was really a kind of launching pad for me, in a way. I got away from that world; met other people. Ended up after the war going [to college and] getting the G.I. Bill. They offered it for Korean Veterans and so that gave me an opportunity to go to college. And while I was in college I got the bright idea that I might like to be a college professor. I loved what they were doing-without really even knowing whether I could. So, [I went to school] at Oglethorpe University [for] my undergraduate [degree], and then I got my masters at Emory University, a Ph.D. at the University of Georgia. That was a time when a lot of jobs were available. I had that year, that I was getting my degree, I had six interviews for jobs. I could have probably had any one of them and very late in the year there was a notice on the bulletin board that Rollins College had an opening. And so I investigated a bit and I had gone to a small liberal arts college, that's where I wanted to go. These others were all state schools. So I came to Rollins in 1963, thinking that I would probably stay here a while because I was very much interested in getting a research university. I was writing, I was wanting to write, and ended up staying here for thirty-five years. Zhang: That's fascinating. Let's go back just a little bit. You mentioned you were in the Korean War, so you were around twenty, how old you was there? Lane: I was-Let's see, I was drafted in 1951, so that would have made me nineteen. Zhang: Nineteen? Lane: When I was drafted. Zhang: How many years did you serve? Lane: Well, I was drafted for two years, but about six months before I was gettinggoing to get out, they came around asking everyone who's time was up if they wanted to reenlist for one more year. If they did, any one who did would be exempted from reserve duty, any reserve duty, when you got out after one-after one more year. You would complete entirely. And I'd already heard information about people who had gone into reserve and gotten called back, just as they're doing right now. And I was not interested (laughs) in staying in the army or having anything to do with it anymore. I was in the paratroopers, so I made jumps. I had about fifty jumps out of planes. And I was already getting scared to death of that, so. I stayed one more year, so I stayed, actually stayed three years. I'm glad I did because the war was winding down and there wasn't too much. The last year was not bad, was not a bad decision. Zhang: So you were actually in Korea? Lane: No, I wasn't. We were getting ready to ship off to Korea when I got discharged. And then, six months after I got discharged, the outfit was shipped to Korea. Trained for it, though.
“Who Are You From?”: The Importance of Family Stories
Journal of Family Nursing, 2017
This article emphasizes the importance of family stories, or intergenerational narratives, and their health benefits across the lifespan. Knowing and sharing the story of who you are from complements the current focus on knowing and sharing one’s geographic heritage, or where you are from. Knowing one’s family stories creates meaning that goes beyond the individual to provide a sense of self, through time, and in relation to family. This expanded sense of self is referred to as our intergenerational self, which not only grounds an individual but also provides a larger context for understanding and dealing with life’s experience(s) and challenges. This connection across generations appears to contribute to resilience at all stages of life. This shift in focus challenges family nurses to rethink and/or prioritize the use of family stories as a key health-promoting intervention for not only children but also their parents, and their parents’ parents.
2010
I think no-one has ever asked us. There’s never been like a forum like this where we can actually say how it was. And I’m interested. I want everyone... I want everyone to have a voice and I’m interested in other people’s stories and I think this is... important research. And it’s also I think, quite healing as well and I hope that lots of people will get involved in it, yeah. And I hope that it does have some kind of implications that will better our lives in some way. (Research Participant)
Oral History Interviews with Dr. Thaddeus Seymour, May 25 and June 1, 2005
2005
the draft, so I missed the draft. But I was on the home front and watching that and I see so many echoes of those days now as the Tom Brokhaws and others are recalling the sacrifices of that generation whom I admired so very much as a teenaged boy. I graduated from Kent and went to Princeton. I was quite young, I was sixteen when I went and was not ready for college. So my first adventure was to flunk out. And after an adventurous first year, in which I"d had the great satisfaction of rowing on the Princeton junior varsity crew, which won the championship and I got my varsity letter, I nevertheless did not have the grades to continue. So I was out of college, worked it out to be a sort of teaching fellow at the Kent school where I"d go on and taught Latin there and coached a little bit, and it gave me a chance to grow up and get my bearings. I went back to Princeton the following year, and did very well. Even more importantly, I got serious about my childhood sweetheart, Polly. Polly Gnagy, now Polly Seymour. And the following year we decided to get married. And we decided also, because Princeton didn"t allow you to be married, that we would go to California where her family lived. So I moved to California, enrolled in the University of California, and graduated at Berkeley in 1950. I then went from there in 1950 to the University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill. We lived there four years while I got my master"s and did all but my dissertation for my PhD. When I went to work at Dartmouth in 1954, I finished my dissertation that first year and got my degree in 1955. So my family is a New York family. My father was such a generous hearted person. He was very active in the American Civil Liberties Union. And he was a Wall Street lawyer, and his clients were Bausch and Lomb, and Ford Motor Company, and companies like that, Paramount Pictures. But he also, as member of the ACLU, defended an African American communist
Being uprooted: Autobiographical reflections of learning in the [new] south.
I encountered battles in the long-standing war for recognition of my Black womanhood. Yet the fights were unfair because I was ill equipped. I didn't speak the language. I didn't know the rules. I couldn't see the barriers. Months went by before I realized I was asking for admittance to a socially exclusive club called the academy. I thought I was getting an education. I was. But not the kind I thought I was getting. And thus the battles played out. (Berry, 2004, p. 52) HEN WE ENROLLED in a doctoral program in 2004, we entered the university with the belief that we made it. We were excited about attending graduate school but did not know where or how to fit in. We felt isolated. We knew nothing and no one. So we sat in our first class together and copiously took notes, occasionally glancing up at one another in search of a silent confirmation of sisterhood. Although neither of us recalls the specifics regarding how we became friends, it seems that at some point during that semester, we made eye contact and all knew that we had to forge this connection in order not to be alienated while we pursued our graduate studies. We realized that we had to come out of our shells, look up from the pages during class, and connect with other students. This is when we met and befriended one another.
Travailler * A 400-year Inter-generational Journey of Grandmothers, Mothers and Daughters
Travailler: Volume 4 - The Metis, 2019
Here are the stories of sixteen of my Native and Métis grandmothers, one of whom who spoke only Michif for the 100 years her of life (1839-1940) and of her buffalo-sister (1845-1915), in and about the Red River of what became North Dakota (Vol 4) – stories that tell of how the families of their daughters and granddaughters failed … and succeeded … in weathering the same droughts, floods and fires that she did, but in an utterly ecologically and culturally transformed landscape. These are the children and grandchildren of Native mothers and non-Native fathers who formed families who did not acculturate completely to the new settler cultures, nor return to reside on reservations set aside for ‘Indians’ by the conquering government. Here are the stories of one these truly ‘in-between’ families, often rejected by both the communities of enrolled families on reserves and reservations, as well as rejected by the non-Native families making up the new, larger colonial communities now running the institutions of culture and society. What do you then do, when the trains come and therefore the buffalo your grandparents and parents hunted are gone? What do you do when the wealthy buy and plow up the prairie in 10,000 acre bonanza farms, where your grandmothers and mothers foraged for food and medicinal plants? What do you do when immigration sheds are built that bring in 10,000 new laborers to cheaply do whatever the government, corporate or local burgermeisters (masters of citizens) want done? What do you do with your women and children when large numbers of saloons and prostitutes inevitably encircle the housing for that overflowing workforce of cheap immigrant labor in these new rural towns and small cities?