My post from last year's Mother's Day:
Many of us have to depend on others memories for our stories of great
grandparents. I never knew any of my great grandparents. I'm so
thankful of Becky, my dad's cousin, writing a few stories about Rebekah
Hart Thompson. We stare at old tintypes and black and white photos,
trying to make some connection. I have a picture of David's Grandmother
Lyon on my dresser as a young girl, around eight, I would think. She
looks so spunky in that image with adult relatives, staring at the
I know she had red hair and a temper to go with it,
although, by the time I met her, as the red faded to a pure white, her
temper had been tamed. I saw some of that indignation at the oldest
great grandchild's wedding as Grandma knew Ray was to help in the
ceremony. He had grown a beard for some local centennial, leaving him
unrecognizable to her. She fumed through the whole ceremony at the
impostor, her chin set and eyes steely. When Ray came up to her, she
hardly acknowledged him, till he greeted her with, "Grandma."
we journeyed to Emporium on Saturday, I thought how I want to write all
the stories of our ancestors. The peace of the mountains poured into me.
I thought of the lumbering business, in which, those many years ago,
Jesse Skillman, Grandma's father, endeavored. My mother-in-law's father
rode the rails, as a brakeman. The Nickler's, the Metz's, the Skillman's
and Lyon's all have stories so worth telling.
I wondered, too, at
the love story in the house we stayed at this weekend. My mother-in-law
helping her husband with his coat. He doesn't want to be long without
Ellen. They have lived in the house for sixty three years, will be
married sixty seven this June. Dad's memory, destroyed by dementia,
still knows his wife, yet all he forgets irritates her at times.
great granddaughter, Cassandra, wrote a beautiful tribute for her
Grandma Ellen for Mother's Day. I dared anyone to read it without a
tissue. I was already weepy this weekend. Cassandra is not the oldest
great grandchild, but she is eighteen and privileged to spend almost
every Sunday worshiping with her family and Sunday dinner, the old
fashioned kind, at Great Grandma's.
In a few weeks at the Alumni
Banquet, she will be a fourth generation to graduate from Cameron County
High School. I remember when her aunt did it, twenty five years ago.
Four generations, still living, all in the same town. She will have
double, because, even though Grandpa Lyle doesn't know her or what the
big dinner will be about, he will be there, along with her great
grandma, two grandparents and parents, who beat the odds of early
marriage by staying together.
Cassandra called her Grandma Ellen,
an angel. I know blessings abound in this family because we are family,
honoring God, family and country. Stories of love, endurance and hard
work from the mountains that they call hills.
post from last year's Mother's Day: