Sugar Beets and My Grandmothers

Remember the beets I failed to make tasty in that vibrant pink dip? I should probably try to mend my relationship with the root, as it is probably the reason I exist.

A series of events got me thinking about the place where my parents histories converged. One was a comment on my Facebook page. A friend, Sandy, noted that beets are the number one crop in her part if Colorado. Then a few nights ago, my second cousin posted a beautiful and stark article about Nebraska that was published in the New York Times. This led me to think about my grandmothers. These two women, Betty and Margaret, have had a profound impact on who I am today.

Besides my obsession with food, I am a genealogy buff. Betty was, too. It was her initial research that gave me a head start and ignited my desire to know more about my people. Who were they? Where did they come from? What did they face? 

On Betty's side, I learned about the Volga Germans.  To sum it up, these folks were ethnic Germans living along the Volga River in Russia.  In the 1760's, Catherine the Great actively recruited immigrants and promised them land. Her manifesto promised the immigrants that they could maintain their culture and traditions. Betty's ancestors, the Kleins and Ellenbergers lived in this area and maintained their language, food and religion. For many generations, these families lived and farmed the land. In the late 19th century, the Russian army needed more participants and the Volga German's right of exemption from military practice was revoked. This and other events led the Volga Germans to pick up and move again. They were agriculturally focused and many moved to the Dakotas, Colorado and Nebraska. The Ellenbergers and Kleins settled in Nebraska and farmed.

The crop that Nebraska was boasting to entice folks to move there? Sugar beets.

Earlier this year, when the 1940s census was released, I was so excited to see where my grandparents were living. I found Margaret, living with her parents and three sisters, on the outskirts of a small town in Nebraska. The Gallegos family lived in the camps set up on the edges of sugar beet crops. Margaret's parents, both Mexican immigrants, worked in these fields. Life was ridiculously difficult and the family lived in poverty.

It is in that small town that my parents met. Their families, made of immigrants from different parts of the world, were drawn to Nebraska and the work that sugar beets promised. My mother's grandmother lived a few steps away from my father's parents. There, in Nebraska, many generations of my family were born - including my sister and I.

I think about my grandmothers when I try to figure out what it is that makes me such a fighter. Why can't I just mind my own business instead of fighting against the issues that I find so unjust? The Volga Germans and the Mexicans, that's why. The Volga Germans had to have had a sense of adventure, right? They picked up and made new homes in new lands more than once. They were willing to strike out for a better opportunity for their families. My family still makes the food of these ancestors (cabbage burgers, anyone?). Betty was always ready to learn something new and to seek out new experiences. I could never win a debate with her because she was so well read and so thoughtful. She taught me the value of knowledge, of learning. She taught me to question instead of accept. Betty and Margaret both lived through hardships and came out stronger because of them. Margaret and her Mexican family faced racism and from what I hear in hushed voices, they were looked down upon. Again, my Mexican ancestors struck out for a better life in America. Margaret taught me to do what I thought was right, despite what other people may think. Her experiences showed me that I should judge people less and be compassionate more. She taught me the value of empathy and reminded me to put myself in other's shoes. She taught me the value of never giving up. We still cook her food, too. Nobody I know makes enchiladas the way my family does.

It is only upon recent reflection (this happens as you get older doesn't it?), that I realize that their lessons were with me all along. Taking a stand and fighting the good fight are in the genes. Facing down those that think you won't make it and using your own wits and intellect to prove them wrong? It's written in the stars.

So, yeah. I may have to give beets another chance.