That is not just a catchy title, you guys.
I'll be honest, I don't know an awful lot about the history of my family. It's not that I'm not interested in knowing about it, but no one ever seemed to keep many records. We always heard stories about how we were related to this family or that (because we came from a small southern community that didn't see fit to marry outside of the county lines) and occasionally we'd hear a fifth-hand anecdote about how this cousin might have been buried alive, or that relative was sent to live in a mental asylum because they hit menopause and got a little emotional, but information is sparse as far as any real concrete history of our family goes.
While we were staying with my brother before he passed away, one of the things that we did to pass the time was look through boxes of old pictures and news clippings that my mom had stashed away in a closet. My sister found a newspaper clipping, from a 1993 edition of the formidable Athens News Courier with a story (a story which I thought would have been brought to my attention at the time, but was not) about two of my great grandmothers. This was a story that would have tickled me to death as a teenager, and honestly, it kind of tickles me to death now. It's so rare that I find out real stories about my ancestors and its a bizarre story to boot!
First off, I suppose I need to explain why I keep saying "my grandmothers" in plural. My family tree kind of joins back together in a certain spot. My great-great-great grandmothers on both my mother's side and my father's side were sisters. Actually, they were part of a set of triplets, born in 1862, and thought to be the first set of triplets born in the state of Alabama. Their names were Melissa, Artimisa, and Narcisa Smith and they were the youngest of 21 (gulp) kids born to Roland and Elizabeth Smith on a plantation close to Cherokee, Alabama in Colbert County.
First off, I had no idea that any of my relatives ever lived on a plantation. So...yikes. Until reading this story, I was under the impression that all of the people in my family had once been po' white sharecroppers and Native Americans, with some randos from other places thrown in for good measure. However, apparently this branch of my family tree had some money, and a plantation, and triplet daughters that were a very unusual occurrence at the time.
As you know, during the Civil War northern troops came down and burned and pillaged a lot of the plantations and farms of the people who lived in the south. They were not stand up guys, obviously, and when they got wind that there were triplets in one of the homesteads, it got back to the Smiths that soldiers intended to kidnap their daughters, probably to sell them to a circus as a side show act. Roland Smith then took the time to build a false wall in their house where the hid the girls whenever the Union soldiers were nearby. The fact that representatives from a county fair had also been after the family to allow them to display the girls in their own side show made the family aware that the threat of the Yankee soldiers very real, so according to the article "Fearing for the triplet's safety, the family left their plantation home and moved to Madison County, just over the Limestone County Line. They fled in the night, crossing the Tennessee river on a ferry, and traveled on to Madison County by horses and wagons."
Neato.
The Smiths then settled on a farm in Madison County, where the girls lived altogether until they were 21 and unfortunately Artimisia died of Pneumonia. The other two girls, Melissa and Narcisa, went on to marry and have babies and those babies grew up and met and some of them got married and somehow I am a result of that craziness.
That is really all I know about the family, but I'd love to learn more. Also, knowing that the family had 21 children probably explains my very complex, very interconnected list of cousins around these parts. The only other things of note that I found out was that Melissa (my maternal GGG Grandmother) had really thick ankles, so I guess I know where I got those from now. The more you know!
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 11, 2018
Wednesday, September 27, 2017
TEN YEARS
It occurred to me a couple of days ago that it will have been 10 years ago this coming Sunday (October 1st) that my father passed away.
It probably sounds odd to say that it "occurred" to me, because it seems like I should have the dates marked on a calendar, but really, missing someone doesn't work like that. Well, at least not for me. There really isn't a timeline in grief, it just is. It goes back and forth between better and worse over and over, like the tides, but it never goes away. Even though you are aware of the days and hours, it also runs altogether into one big wash of time.
Ten years, though. Somehow it seems like it just happened yesterday and sometimes it feels like it happened a hundred years ago. Haha, how's that for a cliche?
I don't remember a whole lot about that time, because everything seemed so unreal, but the things I do remember are hard set in my mind. Sara brought food to my mom's house and Steve had to bring me clothes - but nothing he brought fit exactly right. A friend from church came by my mom's house and I was confused because I didn't know how she knew where I was. Kenny came to my dad's visitation, stayed to the very end, and was the first person to make me laugh in days. His mom, Bonita, wrote me the kindest letter afterwards because she knew what it was like to lose a father unexpectedly. Our cousins Greg, Amy, and Kristin drove three hours to be there for the funeral, and Steve's boss sent a basket of beautiful flowers. It's weird what you remember about times like that, but those are all wonderful things to remember about such an awful time, so I'm glad those memories stayed.
Thinking about his passing has also made me think of the past ten years and everything that has happened. I wonder what he'd think about all of it? For at least the five years following his death, every year I lost so much and so much changed. I changed. I'm not the same person that I was, and it makes me wonder if he would even like me now. I hope so! It's hard not to let yourself become hard and cynical when you're faced with certain things, but would him being here to talk to have made any of that better? I dunno.
Heh, I actually started out hoping to wrote an eloquent, heartfelt ode to my dad, but it didn't end up being that, did it? That's ok, though. Some people would be much better at expressing themselves than I am, but for me, all I can say is that I miss him and I wish he was here. I'll probably always feel that way.
One thing I've learned through his death and all that followed is that losing someone you love doesn't really get easier. It doesn't matter if they die, if they just lose touch, or if your relationship with them changes in some significant, but diminished, way. If you ever truly cared anything about them, it hurts when that happens. It's unfair that people can suddenly be out of your life before you're finished loving them.
And that's all I've got to say about that.
It probably sounds odd to say that it "occurred" to me, because it seems like I should have the dates marked on a calendar, but really, missing someone doesn't work like that. Well, at least not for me. There really isn't a timeline in grief, it just is. It goes back and forth between better and worse over and over, like the tides, but it never goes away. Even though you are aware of the days and hours, it also runs altogether into one big wash of time.
Ten years, though. Somehow it seems like it just happened yesterday and sometimes it feels like it happened a hundred years ago. Haha, how's that for a cliche?
I don't remember a whole lot about that time, because everything seemed so unreal, but the things I do remember are hard set in my mind. Sara brought food to my mom's house and Steve had to bring me clothes - but nothing he brought fit exactly right. A friend from church came by my mom's house and I was confused because I didn't know how she knew where I was. Kenny came to my dad's visitation, stayed to the very end, and was the first person to make me laugh in days. His mom, Bonita, wrote me the kindest letter afterwards because she knew what it was like to lose a father unexpectedly. Our cousins Greg, Amy, and Kristin drove three hours to be there for the funeral, and Steve's boss sent a basket of beautiful flowers. It's weird what you remember about times like that, but those are all wonderful things to remember about such an awful time, so I'm glad those memories stayed.
Thinking about his passing has also made me think of the past ten years and everything that has happened. I wonder what he'd think about all of it? For at least the five years following his death, every year I lost so much and so much changed. I changed. I'm not the same person that I was, and it makes me wonder if he would even like me now. I hope so! It's hard not to let yourself become hard and cynical when you're faced with certain things, but would him being here to talk to have made any of that better? I dunno.
Heh, I actually started out hoping to wrote an eloquent, heartfelt ode to my dad, but it didn't end up being that, did it? That's ok, though. Some people would be much better at expressing themselves than I am, but for me, all I can say is that I miss him and I wish he was here. I'll probably always feel that way.
One thing I've learned through his death and all that followed is that losing someone you love doesn't really get easier. It doesn't matter if they die, if they just lose touch, or if your relationship with them changes in some significant, but diminished, way. If you ever truly cared anything about them, it hurts when that happens. It's unfair that people can suddenly be out of your life before you're finished loving them.
And that's all I've got to say about that.
Wednesday, June 28, 2017
RANDOM ACTS OF BLOGGING
1) So, I have a new update on my brother!
He was moved to a bigger, more well equipped hospital in Huntsville to get treatment, and so far he's doing better than he was. That's good news and we'll take that! When I wrote before, he was very sick and weak from not being able to eat, but in the new hospital they have given him a feeding tube (?) which has helped him a lot. He's still not doing great, but he's much more stable and a little bit stronger, or at least he seems to be. I have gone to see him a couple of times and he seems to be in a better mood, but of course, if you know my brother, he's usually in a good mood.
He will have to have another, fairly complex, surgery this Friday morning, and as long as he pulls through that with few complications, the doctor seems convinced that he will get back to the way he was before he got so sick, which would be a huge improvement. Once again, keep some good vibes out there for him and my mom, who has been by his side this whole time. She is a superwoman for sure! I'm sure everyone would just like to go home and be able to get some normalcy back in their lives.
Thanks to everyone who's checked up on them and sent hugs!
2) Last Friday I had a bit of minor surgery, myself. I hate to even call it surgery, because it took all of two hours from start to me being back home, but it did involve actually going to the hospital and being sedated and all of that. It was nothing serious, just one of those things that I knew I needed to do, and then kept putting it off until I just bit the bullet to get it over with. It's been a looong while since I've had anything more serious than a root canal, so a lot has changed since I was in the hospital last.
First thing they did was tell me to take off all of my clothes and put on thigh high stockings. Heh...yeah, I've head that before! It was like college all over again! :) Actually, along with my blood-clot-fighting stockings, they also gave me some sexy, barf-colored non-skid socks, and a hospital gown that afforded me zero dignity. Being a hospital patient is decidedly non-glamorous, no matter what ER and Grey's Anatomy might say to the contrary! Everything seemed to go really quickly once my IV was in place, and then some very lovely gentleman gave me a shot that made me not care about anyone or anything, and they took me into the OR. I remember saying "WOW, there's a lot of stuff in here! I didn't think you needed all this kind of stuff!" Stuff being lights and medical equipment, which in retrospect, makes a lot of sense.
I woke up in recovery, not really sure of what was going on. I had been fitted with an oxygen mask and remember saying "Oh, good, I like oxygen." after asking why I had it on. They scratched my vocal cord with a breathing tube, and my voice is still a little scratchy from that, but not terribly. I also remember singing a little and then bursting out crying for no good reason, but I think it was just a reaction to everything. The very sweet nurse talked me through it, so there's no telling what I said to her. I probably confessed many private sins to that nurse, who now has to live with the terrible knowledge. I have no idea how long that went on, but it seems like in a flash I was back in one of the recovery rooms with Steve getting redressed and wheeled out to the car. I wasn't completely lucid, though, because there are big chunks of the next couple of days I don't remember, but apparently I survived. By Sunday night I was almost back to normal and trusted myself enough to send an email. I still tend to burst out crying from time to time (stuff like, oh, God, I've been abandoned by everyone and every little thing sets me off so don't hurt my feelings, yo) but it is getting much better. You'll also be happy to know I only had to take 3 of the heavy pain pills, and I behaved myself each time. Mostly. I wanted badly to get out of the house at one point, and so I hobbled into Publix to get some juice. I had taken one of the pills before we left, and about halfway through our trip I kind of fazed out and found myself giggling and petting a carton of drinks. I also got into a weird smiling fit, because the more Steve told me not to make "that face," the less control I had over making "that face." He managed to pay for the juice and get me back home before I did anything embarrassing. He was a good nurse, all told. Anyway, I'm healing and hopefully very soon will be back to fighting shape!
3) I'm sure you've been waiting with baited breath about what I ended up naming my car. I took a poll on Facebook and it was close. I had an equal number of votes for "Joan Jetta" and "Other" and I had a couple of great suggestions from the "Other" camp. My cousin Amy's suggestion was perfect. Now my car has been christened "Brunhilde Farfegnugen" but I'll just call her Brunhilde for short. I also liked the suggestion "Dave" but the car is clearly female, so what can I do?
So far I like the Volkswagen, with one exception. When you connect the sound system to Bluetooth and listen to music from the phone, the sound will get louder and softer depending on your speed. That doesn't happen with the radio, but I've almost deafened myself when listening to my playlist because when you slow down, the music gets quieter, and not realizing it was a feature, I turned it up to hear what was playing, but then when I started driving again, the sound blasts out at you without any warning. I hate that and haven't figured out how to disable it. Don't tell me how loud I can listen to my crappy playlist, Brunhilde! All in all, though, it's a nice car and I'm glad to finally have something reliable.
Now I get to take all of those road trips I've been talking about! Imma visit everyone!
He was moved to a bigger, more well equipped hospital in Huntsville to get treatment, and so far he's doing better than he was. That's good news and we'll take that! When I wrote before, he was very sick and weak from not being able to eat, but in the new hospital they have given him a feeding tube (?) which has helped him a lot. He's still not doing great, but he's much more stable and a little bit stronger, or at least he seems to be. I have gone to see him a couple of times and he seems to be in a better mood, but of course, if you know my brother, he's usually in a good mood.
He will have to have another, fairly complex, surgery this Friday morning, and as long as he pulls through that with few complications, the doctor seems convinced that he will get back to the way he was before he got so sick, which would be a huge improvement. Once again, keep some good vibes out there for him and my mom, who has been by his side this whole time. She is a superwoman for sure! I'm sure everyone would just like to go home and be able to get some normalcy back in their lives.
Thanks to everyone who's checked up on them and sent hugs!
2) Last Friday I had a bit of minor surgery, myself. I hate to even call it surgery, because it took all of two hours from start to me being back home, but it did involve actually going to the hospital and being sedated and all of that. It was nothing serious, just one of those things that I knew I needed to do, and then kept putting it off until I just bit the bullet to get it over with. It's been a looong while since I've had anything more serious than a root canal, so a lot has changed since I was in the hospital last.
First thing they did was tell me to take off all of my clothes and put on thigh high stockings. Heh...yeah, I've head that before! It was like college all over again! :) Actually, along with my blood-clot-fighting stockings, they also gave me some sexy, barf-colored non-skid socks, and a hospital gown that afforded me zero dignity. Being a hospital patient is decidedly non-glamorous, no matter what ER and Grey's Anatomy might say to the contrary! Everything seemed to go really quickly once my IV was in place, and then some very lovely gentleman gave me a shot that made me not care about anyone or anything, and they took me into the OR. I remember saying "WOW, there's a lot of stuff in here! I didn't think you needed all this kind of stuff!" Stuff being lights and medical equipment, which in retrospect, makes a lot of sense.
I woke up in recovery, not really sure of what was going on. I had been fitted with an oxygen mask and remember saying "Oh, good, I like oxygen." after asking why I had it on. They scratched my vocal cord with a breathing tube, and my voice is still a little scratchy from that, but not terribly. I also remember singing a little and then bursting out crying for no good reason, but I think it was just a reaction to everything. The very sweet nurse talked me through it, so there's no telling what I said to her. I probably confessed many private sins to that nurse, who now has to live with the terrible knowledge. I have no idea how long that went on, but it seems like in a flash I was back in one of the recovery rooms with Steve getting redressed and wheeled out to the car. I wasn't completely lucid, though, because there are big chunks of the next couple of days I don't remember, but apparently I survived. By Sunday night I was almost back to normal and trusted myself enough to send an email. I still tend to burst out crying from time to time (stuff like, oh, God, I've been abandoned by everyone and every little thing sets me off so don't hurt my feelings, yo) but it is getting much better. You'll also be happy to know I only had to take 3 of the heavy pain pills, and I behaved myself each time. Mostly. I wanted badly to get out of the house at one point, and so I hobbled into Publix to get some juice. I had taken one of the pills before we left, and about halfway through our trip I kind of fazed out and found myself giggling and petting a carton of drinks. I also got into a weird smiling fit, because the more Steve told me not to make "that face," the less control I had over making "that face." He managed to pay for the juice and get me back home before I did anything embarrassing. He was a good nurse, all told. Anyway, I'm healing and hopefully very soon will be back to fighting shape!
3) I'm sure you've been waiting with baited breath about what I ended up naming my car. I took a poll on Facebook and it was close. I had an equal number of votes for "Joan Jetta" and "Other" and I had a couple of great suggestions from the "Other" camp. My cousin Amy's suggestion was perfect. Now my car has been christened "Brunhilde Farfegnugen" but I'll just call her Brunhilde for short. I also liked the suggestion "Dave" but the car is clearly female, so what can I do?
So far I like the Volkswagen, with one exception. When you connect the sound system to Bluetooth and listen to music from the phone, the sound will get louder and softer depending on your speed. That doesn't happen with the radio, but I've almost deafened myself when listening to my playlist because when you slow down, the music gets quieter, and not realizing it was a feature, I turned it up to hear what was playing, but then when I started driving again, the sound blasts out at you without any warning. I hate that and haven't figured out how to disable it. Don't tell me how loud I can listen to my crappy playlist, Brunhilde! All in all, though, it's a nice car and I'm glad to finally have something reliable.
Now I get to take all of those road trips I've been talking about! Imma visit everyone!
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