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How time flies! It was three years ago when I posted Memorial Day memories like ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
shadowkat67 did this morning here
I only had one grandfather, my mother's father, and one grandmother, my father's mother. I doubt the two ever met each other. Unless it was Memorial Day weekend we almost never saw anyone else at Grandpa's house. I don't think we ever had less than 10 people show up to see us at Grandma's house.
My grandfather had a grumpy disposition, but was also quick to smile. My grandmother was about as calm and unflappable as you can imagine. She was a modest, quiet, Irish Catholic, who'd had 10 children. She'd lost one of them in early childhood, as she'd lost her own twin brother when she was small.
My father was both the black sheep and the shining light of his family. Odd but true. He saved his money and went to college with the encouragement of his mother's youngest brother. He graduated and became a modest success, etc. etc. But... At college he met my mother who was neither Catholic nor a tiny bit interested in becoming one. So they got married in what must have been one of the loneliest weddings in the history of either family, not at a church, but at my grandpa's house on the Fourth of July about 10 months after my mother's mother died.
My mother never did get used to being by herself with my father's family. There never was any hatred or unkind words between them. They just didn't know how to approach each other. We kids got along fine. As long as my father was around my mother was fine, too. But, my father's mother was so quiet she would could unnerve anyone.
When we'd arrive at my grandmother's house in Southeastern Kansas we'd be greeted by my father's youngest brother C. He was the typical kid's favorite uncle, full of fun and teasing. I do remember how much he changed when he got married and had kids of his own to take care of. Even after he was married Uncle C lived at my grandmother's house to work the farm land there.
The first order of business when we showed up was to get on the phone (see below). There were five or six siblings to get in touch with plus a few of my father's aunts and uncles were around as well. I knew my uncles and aunts, but honestly I lost track of my 40 odd cousin's names and I never knew who the extended relations were. In the tiny town where they lived, more than half the kids in the school had my last name, and most of them were my first cousins.
Like my grandpa, my grandma had an outhouse, which lasted until uncle C got married. Grandma's house was big enough for nine kids and then some. It was a long walk from the upstairs where all the boys slept to the outside, let alone back to the back where the outhouse was. The upstairs floor was extremely rough and full of splinters. I didn't appreciate it at the time, but my father's father and his father had built the whole place.
Grandma's kitchen was as huge as it was primitive. She fixed meals for us on a big black wood-burning stove and heated her flat irons there as well. There was electricity for lights in the kitchen, but I think grandma still had an icebox that used ice blocks they cut out of the pond in winter time. She had a smoke house where they cured their own ham and bacon. There was a telephone on the wall. But it had a crank to call the operator instead of a dial and you had to count the number of rings to know if the call was for her house. (Actually in sophisticated St. Louis County, we also had to count the rings in those days! There just weren't as many phones on the party line.) My mother who studied nutrition in college, would gripe to us about the food Grandma fixed- lots of greasy meat and potatoes, and few other vegetables, but grandma's children on average lived about as long as grandpa's.
There was a cottage in back where my father's maiden aunt lived. As they used to say, she wasn't quite right, but she was able to help with the necessary gardening to keep a huge farm family going.
As if to make up for my grandmother's quietness, my aunt C (my father's oldest sister) used to talk constantly. She was quite interesting to listen to, but it never seemed like she took a breath. Her husband Uncle B was nice but not the brightest. Fortunately all their kids seemed to be smarter like their mother. My father's sister F lived in Colorado so we saw her more rarely. My uncle J was the next in line, his kids were among my favorite cousins. Uncle J's wife G was my mother's favorite on my father's side of the family. One of their daughters died several years before I was born. She'd been playing around the well beside our grandparent's house and fell in. Needless to say the whole side of the family was touchy about the subject of children playing around wells. My Uncle E was just younger than my father. During the war My father and Uncle E were at opposite ends of New Guinea at the same time without knowing it. Uncle E was seriously injured there. He and his wife could not have children, but they adopted three. Uncle E raised pigs, lots of them. Both Uncle E and his wife A are still alive and must be in their 90's by now. Uncle O was a dairy farmer, he had a serious stutter but it never stopped him from speaking his mind. All his kids were girls. Uncle B was just as quiet as his mother most of the time. He wasn't much of a farmer and eventually ended up moving his family to St. Louis to work for my father. Which brings us back to my Uncle C. He had the most marvelous speaking voice, probably could have been a radio announcer if he'd had any education. His wife R was probably the largest woman in the whole family. Their oldest daughter R, and I used to play together quite a bit. His sons were a bit too rough and tumble for my taste when they started getting older. Uncle C wanted sons, but I think they were more than he bargained for. My youngest aunt only had three children. I can't remember their names, but they were fun to be around. I can't remember my youngest aunt's husband, he was in the Air Force when I was a kid and was always elsewhere when we were around. Later I think they moved back near our family in Kansas and ran a restaurant, but by that time I never saw much of any of them any more.
shadowkat67 did this morning hereI only had one grandfather, my mother's father, and one grandmother, my father's mother. I doubt the two ever met each other. Unless it was Memorial Day weekend we almost never saw anyone else at Grandpa's house. I don't think we ever had less than 10 people show up to see us at Grandma's house.
My grandfather had a grumpy disposition, but was also quick to smile. My grandmother was about as calm and unflappable as you can imagine. She was a modest, quiet, Irish Catholic, who'd had 10 children. She'd lost one of them in early childhood, as she'd lost her own twin brother when she was small.
My father was both the black sheep and the shining light of his family. Odd but true. He saved his money and went to college with the encouragement of his mother's youngest brother. He graduated and became a modest success, etc. etc. But... At college he met my mother who was neither Catholic nor a tiny bit interested in becoming one. So they got married in what must have been one of the loneliest weddings in the history of either family, not at a church, but at my grandpa's house on the Fourth of July about 10 months after my mother's mother died.
My mother never did get used to being by herself with my father's family. There never was any hatred or unkind words between them. They just didn't know how to approach each other. We kids got along fine. As long as my father was around my mother was fine, too. But, my father's mother was so quiet she would could unnerve anyone.
When we'd arrive at my grandmother's house in Southeastern Kansas we'd be greeted by my father's youngest brother C. He was the typical kid's favorite uncle, full of fun and teasing. I do remember how much he changed when he got married and had kids of his own to take care of. Even after he was married Uncle C lived at my grandmother's house to work the farm land there.
The first order of business when we showed up was to get on the phone (see below). There were five or six siblings to get in touch with plus a few of my father's aunts and uncles were around as well. I knew my uncles and aunts, but honestly I lost track of my 40 odd cousin's names and I never knew who the extended relations were. In the tiny town where they lived, more than half the kids in the school had my last name, and most of them were my first cousins.
Like my grandpa, my grandma had an outhouse, which lasted until uncle C got married. Grandma's house was big enough for nine kids and then some. It was a long walk from the upstairs where all the boys slept to the outside, let alone back to the back where the outhouse was. The upstairs floor was extremely rough and full of splinters. I didn't appreciate it at the time, but my father's father and his father had built the whole place.
Grandma's kitchen was as huge as it was primitive. She fixed meals for us on a big black wood-burning stove and heated her flat irons there as well. There was electricity for lights in the kitchen, but I think grandma still had an icebox that used ice blocks they cut out of the pond in winter time. She had a smoke house where they cured their own ham and bacon. There was a telephone on the wall. But it had a crank to call the operator instead of a dial and you had to count the number of rings to know if the call was for her house. (Actually in sophisticated St. Louis County, we also had to count the rings in those days! There just weren't as many phones on the party line.) My mother who studied nutrition in college, would gripe to us about the food Grandma fixed- lots of greasy meat and potatoes, and few other vegetables, but grandma's children on average lived about as long as grandpa's.
There was a cottage in back where my father's maiden aunt lived. As they used to say, she wasn't quite right, but she was able to help with the necessary gardening to keep a huge farm family going.
As if to make up for my grandmother's quietness, my aunt C (my father's oldest sister) used to talk constantly. She was quite interesting to listen to, but it never seemed like she took a breath. Her husband Uncle B was nice but not the brightest. Fortunately all their kids seemed to be smarter like their mother. My father's sister F lived in Colorado so we saw her more rarely. My uncle J was the next in line, his kids were among my favorite cousins. Uncle J's wife G was my mother's favorite on my father's side of the family. One of their daughters died several years before I was born. She'd been playing around the well beside our grandparent's house and fell in. Needless to say the whole side of the family was touchy about the subject of children playing around wells. My Uncle E was just younger than my father. During the war My father and Uncle E were at opposite ends of New Guinea at the same time without knowing it. Uncle E was seriously injured there. He and his wife could not have children, but they adopted three. Uncle E raised pigs, lots of them. Both Uncle E and his wife A are still alive and must be in their 90's by now. Uncle O was a dairy farmer, he had a serious stutter but it never stopped him from speaking his mind. All his kids were girls. Uncle B was just as quiet as his mother most of the time. He wasn't much of a farmer and eventually ended up moving his family to St. Louis to work for my father. Which brings us back to my Uncle C. He had the most marvelous speaking voice, probably could have been a radio announcer if he'd had any education. His wife R was probably the largest woman in the whole family. Their oldest daughter R, and I used to play together quite a bit. His sons were a bit too rough and tumble for my taste when they started getting older. Uncle C wanted sons, but I think they were more than he bargained for. My youngest aunt only had three children. I can't remember their names, but they were fun to be around. I can't remember my youngest aunt's husband, he was in the Air Force when I was a kid and was always elsewhere when we were around. Later I think they moved back near our family in Kansas and ran a restaurant, but by that time I never saw much of any of them any more.
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My family consisted of five people; Dad, Mom, me, my sister K and my brother J. Somehow, it always seemed as if that was it. I didn't realize until I started investigating our genealogy just how isolated our family was, and I'm still trying to figure out how that happened. I think it was my mother's doing.
We did have contact with my mother's mother, all the time. She was the closest relative we had who wasn't in the immediate five. My mother was an only child. Her parents divorced when she was only 2 years old, at a time when divorce was practically unheard of in "our" circle in Toronto. My grandmother became quite the party girl, apparently, and my great-grandmother raised my mother. (I was lucky enough to know my great-grandmother, Annie. She lived until I was 17.) My mother grew up absolutely determined that her children would be raised in a normal, two-parent, respectable household.
My father's family didn't really enter into the equation. His older brother, S, had emigrated to Canada before Dad did, and was living in BC. His younger half-sister, S was still living with my paternal grandmother in England. Both of them have children around my age that I have met once, each, many, many years ago.
My mother's mother had two sisters and four brothers. One of her sisters, my Great-Aunt T, I knew quite well. I never met the other aunt; I believe she died quite young. Of the brothers, I only met the one with whom my great-grandmother ended up living. I don't know whether he had children or not...probably, but I didn't meet them.
My Great-Aunt T had three children, F, who was a friend of my mother's when they were girls, a son J, and a younger daughter L. F had three children at the same time Mom did. She had boy-boy-girl and Mom had girl-girl-boy. Of those three cousins, the oldest was seriously injured in a motorcycle accident when he was about 20, and has been functionally disabled ever since, the middle son was murdered when he was about 20, and as far as I know the daughter is fine and working for the Royal Ontario Museum as a curator. I remember seeing these three kids once or twice when I was young, but never spending any time with them.
Great-Aunt T's son J had three sons. I can't remember ever meeting them. Her younger daughter, L, I did get to know better, because Mom and Dad sent us all to stay with her and her family one summer while they (Mom and Dad) went to England for Dad's stepfather's funeral. They lived in the country and I thought it was a wonderful adventure, even though L's kids were all a lot younger than me. My sister hated the country, and my brother was too young to know what the heck was going on. Again, though, no on-going relationship with these people, with that one exception.
The family women I do remember were my great-grandmother's sisters, so they would have been my great-great-aunts, I guess. I knew them when I was very young and would spend time during summer vacation with Annie, going to cottages in various parts of Ontario. Her sisters were Blanche, Gladys, Gertrude, Pearl, and Maude. They were all very old ladies when I was just a little girl. Annie's name was actually Harriet, but we always called her Annie for some reason. Those six sisters had one brother, Uncle Herb. Now, I know from that family of seven siblings, just three generations back, there has flowed a huge number of descendants, and I know, from things that my mother has said, that most of them keep in touch with each other, and they all consider each other family.
So, how the heck did we end up on the outside of all this? It's not because we moved to BC. We weren't a part of it, even when I was a teenager in Toronto. Mom would go to the odd baby shower if one of her cousins was pregnant, but that was about it. We kids would hear the names, but we could never connect them to actual people. It's a real mystery to me. And it's sad, I think.