Earlier this year Minot-Sleeper Library in Bristol, New Hampshire partnered with StoryCorps to record and preserve stories of local residents.
NHPR is airing some of these conversations, including one between Erica Mattson and her daughter, Elsa McConologue.
Last week Elsa reflected on her role in the close knit community she grew up in — before leaving home to attend the University of Washington on the West Coast.
Below is a continuation of their conversation.
Transcript:
Erica Mattson (mom): Do you want to get the spotlight off you a little bit. Are you okay? Do you want to ask me some questions about growing up here?
Elsa McConologue (daughter): Yeah, a little bit.
I felt like when our family changed, when I was a kid, I felt like I kind of had to take on a parental role — but not a lot. I felt like I never really saw what was happening behind the scenes because I wasn't an actual parent. I was an oldest child in a single parent household.
Mattson: Well, you know, as a parent, when things don't go exactly the way you plan, your your biggest concern is how your choices and your mistakes have affected the lives of the people in your family. And as the parent and the adult, it's on you.
Do you remember the the really, really white chicken? The fuzzy white chicken?
McConologue: Gertrude? Of course.
Mattson: Do you remember that? She almost got eaten one night.
I have thought about that night so much because while I was standing there feeling so helpless, I just had this feeling like the only thing I can do is be present.Erica Mattson
McConologue: I do.
Mattson: So sometimes I would forget to close the chicken coop, and I would find out because everything would be in a tizzy, and all the chickens would be screaming.
And so I'd go running out there, and it was my fault. I left the door open, and all I could see in the moonlight was Gertie being swept away into the woods beyond my vision, up into the treetops.
So it was definitely a bobcat. I'm looking up and I can't even see her. And she's up there and these little white feathers [are] floating down around me, and I'm just standing there. And I'm starting to cry because it's my fault, because she's such a sweet chicken, and there was nothing I could do about it.
But for some reason, I just stayed there kind of walking in circles under the chicken. And I don't know why I stayed, but the bobcat dropped her and she came crashing like — it might have been like close to 10 minutes later and she came crashing down through the trees.
I could hear her before I could see her crashing down. And the feathers are all coming down around me. And then she she dropped like a stone and just thump — hit the ground.
I have thought about that night so much because while I was standing there feeling so helpless, I just had this feeling like, if I just stay here — like, I've made a mistake, I've screwed up. Somebody is getting hurt because of me. I can't do anything about it. But if I...if I just... the only thing I can do is be present.
McConolouge: So that's what you did for us?
Mattson: Yeah.
This conversation was recorded as a partnership between Minot-Sleeper library in Bristol, New Hampshire and StoryCorps. It will be archived at the American Folklife Center at the Library of Congress.
