Dad

Dad was about 7 years old when his father died. Grandpa George went into the woods to go hunting. Three days later they found his body. They think he had a heart attack.

Grandma Katie was not in good health. She had raised the children from her husband's first marriage and had six more of her own to raise. About the time her husband died the world was in the middle of the "great depression". There were other relatives, but I guess they were either too old or had problems of their own, so the children went into a Georgia Children's home.
Dad hated that place.

The man who ran the home was very strict. I guess he had to be with all of those children around. I have gone to the "home" and the children that are there now have it easy. They have pools, tennis courts and horses. Dad had to work in the fields growing vegetables, take care of the farm animals and help out in the laundry or other places around the home.
He showed me where he used to climb out of the window and escape into the night.
He and his twin brother and another brother a year younger would run away to Stone Mountain Georgia. It was not a State park at that time. It was just a mountain owned by two sisters whose family settled there years before. Dad would camp out on top of the mountain until the authorities tracked him down and returned him to the home. For some reason they always knew where to find him.

When I went on the tour of the home, I listened to the tales being told by other children. It was amazing how many of them tied sheets together and escaped out of windows.

I have seen a picture of dad holding two rifles. He was about 13. He won a prize for the best target shooting. He was so proud to be holding those rifles. There is another picture of him with his twin brother sitting in a row boat. They looked happy despite the hardship that was common in 1938.

Years later, after my father had grown up, he and his brothers and sister ran ads in the newspaper to track down their missing siblings. The two youngest had been adopted. It was easy to find the missing brother, but it took years to find their sister.

My aunt once told me that the only thing she had to hold onto during that time was her big brothers. (this is the aunt that was not adopted). She was only 4, but I guess people wanted babies back then as much as they do now. She said that when the brothers grew up and left the home at 16, she was heart broken to be left alone. When they came back to visit, it was the highlight of her week. One special day, dad came to visit and brought her a little bracelet. He also bought a bracelet for one of the other little girls. My aunt was angry. She wanted to be the "apple" of my father's eyes and didn't like the competition of the other little girl.

I talked to dad about it a few years ago and he doesn't remember the incident. Funny how one thing stands out for one person but means nothing to another.

I think about that family now, brothers and sisters scattered all over the United States. Dad has kept in touch with all of them, but is closer to one brother more the others.
Yet even with the advance of modern communication, there has always seemed to be a little distance emotionally between most of them. I think it is because they were never really a family. There were several "houses" or dorms and the brothers were separated. The girls, naturally were in a different section. The only time they saw each other was during school hours or free time. How can someone expect to bond with a brother or sister when they are not allowed to be with them? It is amazing to me that they are as close as they have been...and that my brother and sister and I grew up knowing our cousins and loving them.

Grandpa and Grandma

Grandma died when I was six. That didn't leave much time to get to know her, but I have a few memories I will share later. Grandpa was another story. He lived to see me graduate from high school, marry and have a child. I loved Grandpa.

I think it was winter. I remember taking off my heavy coat and walking into the living room. I was cold. The pattern on the rug always fascinated me. I had never seen any other rug with patterns. Ours at home was just an ordinary rug, kind of gold in color, but Grandpa's rug was red with gold swirls, green leaves, and black paisley designs. When I twirled around in a circle, with my arms held out as if I were walking on a type rope, the pattern would merge into one single red color. Then when I was too dizzy to twirl anymore, the rug would move by itself and the colors would un-merge until the returned to normal. If I twirled long enough...I landed on my behind.

Grandpa didn't seem to mind me twirling. When I was too dizzy to twirl anymore, I would ask him questions or get him to tell me stories. "Tell me about when you were young."

Grandpa paused for a moment, then shook his head. "I was a young man when I came here from Mississippi. I walked down the road...Main Street, until it ended and turned into dirt. Then I decided it would be a good place to open a grocery store, so I rented a building and went to work. It wasn't a very big store but it was enough. Later, when Mary's dad decided to go back to the old country, he sold me his store and we lived there for a long time, over the store, Mary and me and the children."

"Why did her daddy leave?" I asked.

"Back in them days, some people came to American to get rich. He left his wife and other children and brought "Marie" with him to America. He opened a store and when he decided he had enough money, he told her that he was going back to the old country. Only she didn't want to go. She had grown up here, and she liked it here." He smiled. "It wasn't proper for a young lady to stay in a foreign country by herself, so he told her she could only stay if she was married. So she married me." He laughed. "I think she fell in love with my voice before she had even met me, but when we met, well, I wasn't too sure she really liked me at first. It took a long time to get her to say yes. Sometimes I wonder if she would have married me if her dad hadn't been leaving."

I look at Grandma's wedding picture. It was taken around 1918. She was 18 years old and wore a dress that came just above her ankles. It had long sleeves and was covered in lace and pearls. Her veil fit onto a circular piece with small white flowers. The material hung to the floor. It looks expensive and elaborate for 1918. I saw my mother's wedding dress in a picture...she wore a white suite. Grandma's dress looks "fashionable". Grandpa is wearing a suite. He stands a full head taller than she and his hair has this little wave. He is not smiling, but Grandma looks radiant. If you can tell anything from a wedding picture...I think she was happy.

Of course if you really want to know, maybe you should ask one of her 9 children.

Times of Our lifes

The old man sat in the rocking chair watching the TV. Grandchildren occasionally ran through the living room into the dining room, through the hallway and back into the living room. He didn't seem to mind the noise. I sat on the paisley print carpet, tracing the swirling pattern with my finger. Now and then I would look up at grandpa and then over to the TV. There was something on called a "soap opera." In my little girl mind, I could not understand why no one was singing if it was an opera.

After a while, I climbed up on grandpa's lap and pulled his arms around me. I help his hand in my lap and stroked it. I liked the papery feel of his worn hands and how my small childish hand fit completely inside his palm. "Am I still your best guy?" He asked.

"Yep" I beamed. "Will you sing me a song?"

Grandpa grinned. "I wish I had a nickle, I wish I had a dime, I wish I had a little girl to love me all the time." His voice was a deep baritone. "Sing with me." I sang in my little girl voice and together we harmonized. My voice would never be called beautiful, but grandpa once sang on stage.

As a young man, an immigrant to the United States, he joined a local club and performed on stage. He was in demand, locally, for his acting abilities and his amazing voice. When he met his future bride, he told me that he thinks she fell in love with his voice before they were introduced, but there was more to that story....one I will tell later.

That afternoon, on the way home, I asked my mom about the Soap Opera and she didn't explain it very well, but I got the message there wasn't any music in it. I also learned that grandpa could not see the TV because he had a cataract. He had lost one eye to cataract surgery years before and did not want to take the chance of losing the other so he sat in front of the TV but he only listened, never saw the picture. I guess that was okay, considering he probably grew up listening to radio.

I sat back and looked out the window. The car did not have air conditioning, so the window was rolled down and I remember the feeling of the wind blowing through my hair. I was barely tall enough to look out the window, so I focused on the tops of trees as they passed by. I knew we were almost home because the large oak trees lined our street. I closed on eye and squinted, trying to figure out what it would be like to see the way grandpa saw things. The trees blurred.
It made me dizzy, so I closed both eyes and began to sing:
"Wish I was a sugar tree Standin' in the town, Every time a pretty girl passed I'd shake some sugar down. I wish I had a sweetheart I'd set her on the shelf And every time she'd smile at me I'd get up there myself. Oh I wish I had a nickle, I wish I had a dime, I wish I had a pretty girl to love me all the time."