Mother's Quaker Ancestors

My Mother spent many days – months, years – in the genealogy section of the Fort Worth Public Library looking on the computer for documents naming ancestors who fought for America in our War for Independence.  She proudly made additions to the pin which she wore on her dresses when she attended D.A.R. functions. 

After my family moved to the Philadelphia area, my Mother wrote to me (those were the days before computers and e.mail)  that she found the names of some ancestors who lived in Pennsylvania.  Unfortunately these ancestors were Quakers. That did not add to her D.A.R. standing.  The Quakers – or more properly Society of Friends – are pacifists.  They never fought in any wars. 

Mother came to visit in our big house in Drexel Hill.  We did the usual tourists things, going to Independence Hall and seeing the Liberty Bell.  Then I decided to help her look for those Quaker ancestors. 

I took her to New Hope, PA, where she searched documents in the court house.  I stood beside her at the counter as she opened a faded brown paper, being careful not to damage the fragile 18th Century document, which seemed ready to crumble each time it was touched.  We read a contract by which an ancestor had signed an agreement to become an indentured servant and be a slave to another man for seven years.  We do not come from an important family.

On the same trip I urged Mother to let me take her to a Quaker meeting.  For those who say all the Founding Fathers were Christians, the Society of Friends avoid all association with Christian churches.  The Quakers do not have churches.  They have a “meeting houses” where they gather on the “first day” (Sunday).  I had been to a meeting at Radnor in a plain room with golden wood paneling where the Society of Friends have met since 1709.  I had found it profoundly moving to sit with others waiting for “the inner light” to show me the way I should go. But when I asked Mother to go with me on Sunday morning, she refused She said, “I don’t want to attend one of their services.” 

“But your ancestors were Quakers,” I said.  “Don’t you want to share their experience?”

“No,” she said softly but firmly, “I won’t go.”. 

At noon – too late to drive from Drexel Hill to Radnor – Mother sat with my family at lunch at the mahogany table in our formal dining room.  While I served the ham and potato salad, I said to Mother, “It is too bad that you would not go to the Quaker meeting” 

“Frankly,” Mother said, “I felt I could not keep my head bowed for that long.”

Only then did I realize that Mother had heard that Quakers did not speak during their services.  As a Baptist she assumed that they were silently praying the whole time, and Baptists pray with their heads bowed

“Mother!” I said, “During a meeting they do not bow their heads.  They just sit quietly.  I think you would have found it a lovely experience.  Not like listening to some Baptist preacher ranting for 45 minutes about the evils of playing cards and drinking alcohol”. 

Mother sat up straight and glared at me across the dining table.  She was a Baptist.  She set great store on what her pastor preached each Sunday.  She was unhappy with what I said, but she did not say anything.  She would not enter into an argument with me.  Mother always avoided conflict.  When it came to refusing to argue, my Mother was a Quaker.