Transcript
Speaker: Hi, I'm Hailey Wiggers, and this is the Red Tent Living Podcast, where brave women host honest conversations about our beautiful and hard ordinary. This season, we connect on stories of family. We're excited for you to join us. Welcome to our table. Today, we get to hear from Katie Stafford and Tracy Johnson, our mother -daughter duo.
Speaker: I loved this conversation. There's so much grace and shared wisdom between the two and so much compassion for each other as they share
Speaker: Things that maybe we both experience from a different and new perspective and also just hold space for each other there. They invite us as listeners to consider the places that our stories are born and invite us to lean in to the sometimes divide across generational lines, but also to the connection that can happen when we lean in. Enjoy the conversation.
Speaker: Hello. It's good to see you. It's good to see you. How's it going? It's going really well. Ready to talk about family? Yes, let's talk about family. Let's talk about generations.
Speaker: Yeah, we might have some things to say. Yeah, might have a common cast of characters. How was this? I found it to be more challenging than I wanted it to be and I think for a couple of reasons. I think because we just came off of the holidays and so that
Speaker: were recording this in early January, and so that feels really fresh for me. I just saw my folks recently. I feel like I have a lot of stirred up feelings that I found rolling around inside of me as I was trying to pull
Speaker: something together that I wanted to share today. How about you? Me too. I think similar space. At first, I was in this space of thinking forward where it's like, my husband and I, we're in a space of like, we're going to start a family soon, we hope. That is just unknown space, hopeful space. It was feeling really hard to find
Speaker: concrete language for that. So I ended up turning back and looking at writings from the past and I found a piece that I love that is about generations. But it was so old that I had to revisit it again. It's added layers over the last five years. So I found myself sitting in that piece this week and retooling it.
Speaker: which was tricky and sweet. Well, I'm excited. Do you want to go first? Do you want me to go first? I can go first. Sure. I can go first. You went first last time. The date was etched in my calendar. Mom and Dad arrive December 18th, 2013. It marked the first time my parents were spending Christmas with us in Michigan.
Speaker: Stephen and Allison had returned home from college for the Christmas break earlier that week. The house was abuzz with the anticipation of a full family gathering, a dream I'd nurtured since childhood.
Speaker: Our family spans five generations from my parents down to my youngest two daughters. The memories from that year are etched vividly in my mind. I can see my mom on the red sofa flanked by the little ones reading aloud from our collection of cherished Christmas books, just as my grandmother used to read to me. In the kitchen, my dad is engaging in lively conversation with Steve, who is crafting gourmet macaroni and cheese out of a box of craft mac and cheese.
Speaker: adding Gouda and Parmesan and shredded cheddar. The evenings are filled with board games, cards, and Christmas movies accompanied by lots of popcorn.
Speaker: My mom was meticulous as always in scheduling coffee dates with each of the older kids, diving into the details of their lives and their thoughts. My dad made his rounds discussing theology with Allison, offering business insights to Katie, and sharing tech updates with Steve, all things Apple. And he was sure to find time to talk to the girls, always willing to hear Ellie's latest dramatic story and curious about Libby's doodles.
Speaker: Looking back, that Christmas feels like a pinnacle, a moment when the generational spectrum brought joy without the weight of complications. Fast forward four years, and we've relocated to Austin. And once again, my parents joined us for Christmas. But the scenes had shifted significantly. In those four years, health challenges had touched both of them.
Speaker: My mom's stroke and heart issues, my dad's broken hip and open heart surgery, aging, inevitable realities had left an indelible mark.
Speaker: Emotionally, the generational spread felt more delicate. Communicating across the years was becoming a new challenge. My mom's struggle with words and processing conversations were apparent, causing confusion for my highly attuned teenager Libby and tension for my youngest, Ellie. My dad, usually so vibrant and engaging, seemed more reserved.
Speaker: a little more emotional, focusing on ensuring that my mom wasn't overwhelmed by the cacophony of our family's words. The generational tapestry, which once felt a bit more seamless, now seemed frayed at the edges to me. The emotional toll was palpable, exasperated by the distances within my immediate family. I grew up in a small family, just like my brother. It was just my brother and me.
Speaker: However, once a year on Christmas Eve, my mom's family would converge at my grandparents' home. Three sets of aunts and uncles along with various ages of cousins would assemble for a few precious hours. It became one of my cherished traditions. I reveled in the full house, the diverse voices, and the stories that I could find if I sat quietly in one room to another.
Speaker: As a child, I would meander room to room, eagerly anticipating the new stories that would unveil more about my mom, her family, and the legacy of the people from which I came. The culmination of that evening was the reading of the night before Christmas. I can still hear my grandfather's voice exclaiming, Santee Claus, it was never Santa, always Santee. I had hoped that our big house in Kalamazoo would become a similar hub for generations.
Speaker: In the past couple of years, reality has settled in our large family, just our family, not with my folks spans four generations, bringing both joys and challenges. Gathering has become more complicated and the dream of a perfect seamless reunion feels less and less realistic. As we add spouses and kids sprinkled across the country, the logistical hurdles have multiplied.
Speaker: Amidst these challenges, I'm learning to dream differently and find joy in diverse connections. This year, we upheld the tradition started by my mom reading The Night Before Christmas. With my mom and dad FaceTiming from their assisted living apartment, Steve and Billy in New York City, and the rest of us gathered in Austin, I read aloud. The tradition inscribed by my mom in the front of the Christmas book
Speaker: we will always read this together, has become a bridge across five generations. And this year it held us together on Christmas Eve. Wrapping my arms around five generations may feel overwhelming, but in its complexity, there's also a richness, a fullness that echoes the dreams of the little girl who longed for more. I love that.
Speaker: did not know that the night before Christmas started with your grandparents, because we've done that as long as I can remember. But that's a nugget you had.
Speaker: I rough down a lot of things, but one of the things that was so poignant to me is when age and ability and capacity and location start to make gathering difficult, I think traditions are our bridges back to one another. So we read the story because we've always read the story and we make it happen, even if it's happening over Zoom.
Speaker: not just happening over Zoom, but my hope, and I think that this is some of it is just like you said, you didn't even know that that tradition started before you ever know. And I think something, the Christmases stand out for me because there just weren't that many generational gatherings when I was growing up.
Speaker: We didn't gather, not regularly, not like that. It was that one night out of the year when there was a lot of passability for both connection, but where I can trace back and go, okay, that's a tradition.
Speaker: that goes back, that goes back further. I believe for our immediate family, there are other things that are art traditions that even when you do them and we're not together, it connects us.
Speaker: this very much fits who I have known you to be in the history of your family. You were describing this scene as a little girl, and it sort of felt like Christmases were a treasure hunt in that you were hunting for threads of story, particularly my Paddy's story.
Speaker: And I think families handle their histories, their mixed bag histories, the good, the bad, and the ugly in very different ways. And so some don't talk about it at all. Some blow it up all over the room when they gather and others are a blend in between. Yeah, I am. There are times I think dad's family was more lived out loud more. I mean,
Speaker: Just all of the things got said at any time. You'll remember him talking about that in his family growing up, the person who would get hurt is whoever was talking the loudest and the longest. That was totally foreign to me.
Speaker: when I met them. There was something refreshing about the level of honesty that was just always accessible, always available, but it was also disorienting for me because I just didn't understand it. I love that about
Speaker: I love that about our family. I love that about all of you. There's a freedom you feel. I think there's a freedom you all feel to say whatever it is you need to say, or want to say, or tell whatever story you want to tell, wherever we are, whatever we are, even if other people are around. There are still times where, as it's happening internally, I'm aware that I didn't come from people who do that.
Speaker: Yeah. Was interesting last week as I was taking Libby back to college, we went and sat with my Patty and Pop Pop. He was talking about something political. He was expressing his opinion on a political subject and internally, I was like, I don't know how this is going to go. But Libby,
Speaker: But he was engaging with Libby and so I just kind of sat back and it was very different than I think what would have happened with you or Allison or Steve. And I think this is a little bit of a generational thing and some of because she has had less life with him.
Speaker: because she's so much younger than you guys. She was sitting there and she was just genuinely curious. She kept saying, can you tell me more about that? She said, I read this source and she brought it up, but there was no energy in it. It was like the two of them just went back and forth.
Speaker: and it was really beautiful to watch and we left and we got in the car and i said how was that for you cuz i know you don't agree with his.
Speaker: you know, his posture on that. And she says, Oh, it wasn't about that mom. She says, pop -pop has lived such a long life and he is worthy of my honor and my respect and, and getting to talk to him like that, I'm just getting to know more of him. But when I'm 83 years old, I don't want people to stop listening to me just because they don't agree with me. What a great response. Like,
Speaker: And she has none of the...
Speaker: Yeah, that is just, there is this wisdom in her curiosity. And I don't know if that's tied to her youth. I don't know if that's tied. You know what's interesting? Yeah, I think actually part of it is tied to how Libby's generation is handling politics. I actually think there's something about that, that is part of why she was engaging with him that way. So,
Speaker: I think about myself and maybe what can get tight inside of me instead of Libby's relaxation. I feel like it's tied to my own. I'm hitting initial waves of what I'm going to call disillusionment, where it's like,
Speaker: oh, my life might not operate on quite as grand a scale as I might have imagined, or X, Y, and Z might not happen. And so it's like, if I haven't done the work, then it's very easy for that to blow out sideways on someone who has an opinion I don't agree with, as opposed to just that gentleness that Libby brought. And I feel like that's a huge invitation to me. Yeah. Yeah.
Speaker: I think it was an invitation to me too. Well, I have some similar characters in my stories. Maybe I should let everyone meet those characters a little bit more and then we can keep talking. Maybe I know a few of these people. All right. This piece is called Born of the Desert.
Speaker: The desert has a distinct feel, one that makes each pore of your body gasp. I forget, as years pile up between visits, what this feeling is. It always takes a couple of days to reacquaint myself with the arid mountains, weathered cacti, and unrelenting heat.
Speaker: But then, amidst patio misters and tank tops, I once again remember the intense thirst of Phoenix. Not in my throat, but croaking through my skin. No wonder I lived in the pool as a young child. I rarely claim Arizona. Yes, I was born there, lived my early childhood there, and have visited regularly.
Speaker: In fact, the one consistent backdrop of my life amidst a series of family moves is a house tucked in a sleepy Phoenix suburb. Here, my grandparents have made a home ever since the year I was born. Last year, that home became a family heirloom acquired by my parents as they helped my grandparents transition to an assisted living community.
Speaker: The walls that have borne witness to countless shared family memories, holidays, birthdays, vacations, play dates, have received a fresh coat of paint. Now they stand ready for the next generation and a fresh set of stories. It's a legacy none of us anticipated. Yet fate continues to draw my family back to our beginnings.
Speaker: Most recently, my 19 -year -old sister Libby has chosen to attend a university in Phoenix pursuing graphic design. And I watch and wonder with a tender curiosity as she faces her own season of the coming in the desert. The branches of our family tree keep growing and grafting together in Phoenix's seemingly barren spaces.
Speaker: all in ways we never imagined when we packed up the moving van 27 years ago. I have assumed time and again we are done with this place, but the desert won't let us go. It dawned on me for the first time five years ago as I took in Phoenix's landscape anew beneath a sun -soaked hill turning purple while the sun began to set.
Speaker: That night, my then boyfriend, parents, grandparents, and other adult sister had all returned to Phoenix again, this time to celebrate with my brother. Settled in the passenger seat of his boyfriend's car, Steve was driving back from Santa Fe that very moment with no idea there was a ring tucked in Billy's pocket and a spot picked out at the top of that sun -soaked hill for just the two of them.
Speaker: As the minutes ticked down and we waited for the boys, we laughed and traded stories together, and I noticed the separate strands of each other's lives threading back together.
Speaker: Finally, on the top of the hill above us, we saw the curly hair and freckles I know so well. Too far away to notice us, it was only after the man beside him took a knee and the ring slipped onto his finger that Steve recognized us below, whooping and hollering and jumping around. Together, the boys ran from the top of the hill so we could catch them up in hugs and congratulations.
Speaker: Grabbing each other on that red, dry dirt, we reached for old and new branches. And amidst hugs and tears and joy, I realized that my family is rooted in this place. Our story is born from the strength of the desert, and we each carry her sun -kissed beauty, unyielding fight, and passionate thirst within our bones.
Speaker: That thirst, I think, has made us who we are, each different, of course, but all eager for the most from life and faithful to those we find who water our souls. It is strange, and you named it so well, like this, we're done with this place. And you probably heard me say that before you ever even felt it.
Speaker: Yeah, because it felt like there was always this longing for something else. Yeah, I think it's, you know, for our family, I mean, we moved a lot when I was young. I had those first
Speaker: six, seven years in Phoenix. But I think we kind of are known in circles that we hang out in as big dreamers, like encouraging kids to go away for college and move to new places when you get a job. And we as a family
Speaker: we are spread across the United States. We didn't all stay in that one little town like a lot of my friends growing up in different places did. My parents lived here, my grandparents live here, and I think that thirst and that drive is a lot of who we are.
Speaker: And as I trace it back, it's interesting that Phoenix does continue to pull us back and what that landscape might have to say about how we've each been raised and what we crave.
Speaker: No, and I think you found beautiful words for that, right? I mean, that tying that thirst to a place that people often think of, you know, is where you experience thirst in the midst of the desert. And I loved, you know, I loved that this time as you thought about that and the born of the desert that you also thought about that house and
Speaker: and the naming of it as an heirloom for our family. I thought that was beautiful, Katie, and you learned to walk in that house. That question, the noticing of what you've been raised in and what's precious, what has been passed down as precious,
Speaker: and then sitting with the tension or just the curiosity of, is this me? Is this mine? I feel like much of that was the maybe angst I brought to this piece as far as what's mine here? What do I claim? What do I claim as my heritage?
Speaker: Because I think that's tricky. And I think we all know that there are generational, I'll use the word curses or burdens that carry and saddle families down. And there are generational gifts. But how do we take forward what is good and not let anything encumber us? Or I don't know.
Speaker: I think you're talking like at some level, it feels like what does it mean to be in one sense, like to be at peace with the legacy that you come from and to be individuated from it at the same time? Yeah. And I don't know that
Speaker: I think we, not just me, but because you will soon be visiting in that house.
Speaker: We're having kind of an unusual experience because most people don't get the chance to do what we're getting the chance to do, which is to walk into this space that belonged to your grandparents, that you have really only known as their space. You'll walk in and there will be much that will be familiar, and then there will be some things that will be missing.
Speaker: And because we don't live there full time yet, there's this spaciousness about how we're all holding it and how we're getting to think about it. And that feels like a gift to me. Hmm.
Speaker: So I feel like we could go on for forever. And this is only the first episode in what's going to be of a lot of family stories.
Speaker: But with that, what do you feel like you are carrying from this conversation into your week next week? I think I'm going to be carrying the gift of your words that our story is born from the strength of the desert. And I think that's true.
Speaker: And I think it feels, that feels multilayered for me. It feels multilayered. And I feel the richness of that. You know, my great grandparents and my grandparents moved to the desert to start a new life. And when they moved, Phoenix was less than 50 ,000 people.
Speaker: which was small, right? And it really was the middle of nowhere. So I think, yes, our nuclear family story, your story begins in the desert because that's where dad and I met, but it goes back further than that. So those words feel like a gift. So I'll take those into the next week with me. How about you?
Speaker: I think I'm carrying forward just the multi -layered
Speaker: aspects of family. And I think the story with Libby is important and just like gentleness towards what it means to meet and love and connect over generations. Sometimes it's easy and it's sweet and effortless and sometimes it
Speaker: requires us to be in more creative, curious spaces. And I don't want to rob myself of the beauty of either. Yeah. It's good. All right. Good to talk with you. It was always fun. Yeah. Different space to be in. And I hope that people are gentle with themselves as they think about their own families. I do too. Family is complicated. Always.
Speaker: Always. Well, I love you. Love you too. And I'll see you soon. Bye. Bye. I loved listening to this conversation. Like I said at the beginning of the episode, this was such a gift. I loved the way that their stories had threads that tied them together.
Speaker: Tracy brought me in so deeply and so vividly to all of these little episodes that she was able to paint for us of her family gatherings, of her immediate family, her parents joined me into that. And the times where the reading of the night before Christmas began with her grandparents,
Speaker: and the invitation of Libby as she responded to her pop -pop through curiosity and gentleness. She talked about the traditions being bridges across generational lines.
Speaker: I also felt myself holding a lot of other stories and pieces that Tracy has shared as she revealed, even in some of these little details of this story, pieces of her life that she shared in the past. And I felt like I just wanted to hold that all there with her.
Speaker: And then, Katie, I loved the way that she is always able to wrap such
Speaker: beautiful metaphorical language around things that we're maybe all experiencing, but we just don't have the words for. She talked about the desert air making her pores gasp, and I just found myself smiling at that at the very beginning. Such a powerful metaphor and image for what the desert does to you.
Speaker: But then using the landscape of the desert as that connecting to the makeup and growth of her family. I found myself thinking about origin stories as Katie and Tracy talked. And I think that felt like a theme for me to consider.
Speaker: And I would invite you as listeners and as the community to consider these questions for yourself. Where is your story born? Where do you come from? What is yours to own when it comes to your heritage or story?
Speaker: Or where do you find yourself trying to actually let go of places or moments or traditions or pieces of your generational history? And I love what Tracy and Katie talked about at the end. What do you still yet feel encumbered by in your story? Can you allow yourself to take forward what is good?
Speaker: I invite you to consider some of those questions alongside of me as we go into the coming week. And we'll see you next week.
Speaker: The Red Tent Living podcast is produced by Katie Stafford and edited by Aaron Stafford. Our cover art is designed by Libby Johnson and our guests are all part of the Red Tent Living community. You can find us all at redtentliving .com as well as on Facebook and Instagram. If you love the stories shared here, we would be thrilled if you left us a review. Until next week, love to you, dear ones.
