I saw my grandpa's name in writing
before. He had written me boxes of letters when I was a kid
telling me how much he loved me and that he couldn't wait to see my
sister and me at our next visit. There is a copy of his
obituary in my parents' keepsake cabinet with his name “Lyle
Bellrichard” sprawled across the top in bold letters that I studied
for a period of time after his death. That name was so
familiar- so common. I had been surrounded by it in so many
ways that it began to lose its uniqueness. I would always think
of it fondly, as I was close to my grandpa, but it just became a
name. That feeling of apathy toward my father's family name
rushed out of me the other day, however, while I was working a shift
on the processing floor at the Wisconsin Historical Society
(WHS).
Fortunately, my work station at WHS is positioned next to
the friendly people in local government documents who are anxious to
get to know their fellow processors. One of the local
government document student workers and I shared conversations about
our cats and families and debated who had the strangest name.
Since my parents could not decide on whose last name to give their
children, a hyphen was stuck between Dubert and Bellrichard making me
the only student in my grade school who was allowed to abbreviate
their last name to a set of initials. Despite my extraordinary
case, it was quickly realized that we were both blessed with unique
surnames that very few people could pronounce but most could remember
because of their oddness.
My oddities came in handy that
fateful morning at WHS as I was asked by this student worker if I
knew a Nettie Bellrichard. I did not recognize the name when I
heard it, but because Bellrichard is not a common name around these parts,
I inquired about the document she was holding in her hands. The
record was a petition for aid that this unknown Nettie had applied
for in 1916. I was slightly intrigued at this point but still
unsure how I was connected to this woman. As we looked deeper
into the document there was his name, Lyle Bellrichard, listed as a
dependent of Nettie. Even though I had seen that name thousands
of times prior, I was shocked. I instantly turned into the same
little girl from years ago who was so excited to see her grandpa on
weekly visits. As soon as I saw that name I yelled out, “That's
my grandpa!” Suddenly, I was surrounded by senior archivists
who had seen this kind of discovery so many times in their careers -
you'd figure they'd be numb by now- yet they were just as excited.
There was some major celebrating after this point. We were
telling everyone within a ten-foot radius about what just happened.
And I hate to admit it, but I even did a little fist pumping into the
air from pure joy (not my best celebratory reflex). In honor of
the good news, my supervisor granted me an excuse from work for five
minutes to photocopy this record; then later I found free time to
call my dad with the story. My elation continued through five
hours of classes and the evening until I went to sleep that
night.
Why was this document such a big deal? I'm pretty
sure I wasn't joyous over the fact that my great-grandmother had to
sign up for the dole after her husband died leaving her to care for
two children. I wasn’t thrilled to learn for the first time
that my grandpa had to suffer losing his father when he was only two-years old. This petition for aid that Nettie filed
presented me with so many questions and sadness, but I still grinned
like a lunatic, similar to the time I met Kevin Bacon when I was in
high school (an eighteen-year old girl couldn’t ask for anything
more). To me, this document was a broken story that I had to
piece together. When I spoke with my father shortly after the
discovery he started filling in some of the missing information, like
how Nettie’s husband died of tuberculosis and that they had to
leave Canada and move back to Prairie du Chien to be with family.
Even though I know very little of the Bellrichard half of my name, I
started tracing their story in my head with the little information I
was given that day. In ten seconds I was given a name for my
great grandmother, a woman I had no prior knowledge of, and I learned
how her family struggled but still managed to survive, despite so
many tragedies. And the only reason I was able to understand
the people listed on this petition was because of my grandpa and his
name.
This piece of my family's past did
indeed make me proud. It showed the hardships my grandpa faced in
his life, and somehow I feel like his determination to persevere has
been passed on to me. This has been one of my favorite days at work,
and it reaffirmed why I want a place in the archival profession.
-Michelle Dubert-Bellrichard
-Michelle Dubert-Bellrichard
