Wrenshall News: Parade inspires a 'snivel' moment

My maternal grandmother, Mildred Schulenburg, was born in Hull in northeastern England in 1910. During World War I, her hometown was a common target for Zeppelin airships, and she recounted stories of watching neighbors perish in the attacks. When she was 18 her family immigrated to the United States. In October of that year the United States was plunged into the Great Depression. When she was 80 years old she built a new house for herself, and we have a snapshot of her hanging on a kudzu vine.

At my grandmother’s memorial, a friend of the family told a story about driving Mildred to the doctor’s office: on the way, the neighbor was getting a little choked up worrying about what was going to happen. When they parked the car my grandmother turned to her and said, “Mustn’t be a sniveler.”

I was brought back to that story and the memory of my grandmother last Thursday when I drove in the Wrenshall end-of-school parade. Last week the teachers and staff at Wrenshall school threw a “reverse parade” for the community. My children and I made signs thanking our school and hopped into the car for some honking and hollering.

As we turned onto Pioneer Drive and I saw all the people who power the center for learning in our community, I totally lost it. I started crying. I couldn’t stop crying as we drove by signs expressing love and connection. The school found a way to reconnect and remind me how important humans are in the system of knowledge. My son asked if we could drive through again. I was able to pull myself together for another go-around to cheer on these amazing teachers and staff.

I don’t think my grandmother would have begrudged me those tears. I interpret “snivels” as a reaction to the small things that we might bemoan throughout the day — a misinterpreted email or a mistake in a recipe, rather than the larger disruptions to our social systems or the intransigence of systemic racism. I think she saw snivels as a way to distract ourselves from facing our fears and our discomfort head-on. My grandmother was always a hero to me, but in these past few months I’ve tried to turn toward her example and find courage in her legacy.

Now, to find some

kudzu vines.

If you have any Wrenshall news to share, email or call Annie at [email protected] or 218-310-4703.