Doing a bit better now. Looking forward to Shadow coming into town and perhaps having a Polaris spree. I spent a day reflecting on the hurtful things Grandma did when we were growing up (she had her favorites and did not hesitate to let people know it. I was not a favorite). Which was good, because the next day I was able to reflect on all the lovely things and the good things and the beautiful things I loved about her. I'd rather it that way, which leaves me fondly thinking of her, than flipping the order and feeling angry.
Grandma had a very strong personality, but she did love us all, in her own way. But what a life she had! Surviving it must have taken a very strong personality - she was born way out in the hills of Pliny, West Virginia. My Great-Great-Great (and perhaps one more great on that) Grandfather was a surveyor with George Washington in what was then Virginia. As a result he was granted 1005 acres of good, tillable land in what is now West Virginia. My Great-Great Grandfather had three sons - one who went off to fight for the Confederates in the Civil war and never came back. He split the land between his remaining two sons. The one son invested in Confederate money and lost his land. My Great-Grandfather sold his land for money and a lesser property that he thought could be mined for shale. My Great-Grandfather's house burned down with all that money in it and the land wasn't mineable - was barely even tillable. He had 21 children from three wives - 18 of which survived childhood.
My Grandma was the last of the 18 children - born when Great-Grandfather was 67. She had a very poor childhood - and loved school because it was the only time she wasn't being worked hard (and could get away from her viciously nasty father). She and her sister had to row their boat across a river and walk two miles to get the the schoolhouse. Her mother died of a goiter when she was 14, at a time when her father was going blind and only she and her sister were left on the farm to take care of him and do the plowing and planting. When we cleaned out Grandma's room we found a tiny old box labeled "goiter remedy." Inside was a lock of hair and a scrap of brown fabric - obviously from Grandma's mother. She'd kept it all those years. We also found some surprisingly passionate love letters from Grandpa to her - surprising because Grandfather was almost as hard as her father had been. My Dad and Aunt were amazed and touched by the feeling in those letters - a different side of their father than they'd ever seen.
Do we ever really know our parents, until it's too late? My parents are celebrating their 45th anniversary today, and sometimes, seeing how terribly the communicate - I wonder how they ever got together. And stayed together. And somehow still seem to need each other even when I'm not certain they enjoy each other. Oh, well, relationships are mysterious things. Most of the time we don't get letters from the past showing that irresistible side. Most of the time we are left to wonder.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
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