His Legacy

I must confess that I am addicted. My grandfather, rest his soul, must be absolutely beside himself with delight. He had traced our family history back to before 1700 from authenticated sources. This still amazes me due to the fact that he did it all before the age of the internet. All of his research was done through miles traveled, hours spent pouring over microfilm , court documents, family bibles  and of course time spent "visiting". 
I am determined to continue his work and to locate, if possible, a direct line to our ancestors in England. I have read his books (there are five) and have begun my own search. Names that I grew up hearing so often are now more than just strangers my grandfather happened to know. They are really my family, distant though they may be. I remember Garnet, a relative from Louisiana. She was my grandfather’s cousin. When I was a little girl I thought that this woman was absolutely beautiful, a Southern version of a Duchess but much more down to Earth. The Native American heritage was more obvious in her features. She had long dark hair (that time had woven with strands of silver) that she wore  braided and coiled just like my great-grandmother. Her dark eyes twinkled because she was always smiling. She is more than a "lady at the family reunion". There are so many names, so many people. I wish that I had paid closer attention, maybe taken notes. There was "Chief Emmett", Selma and Vestle, and Chester.
My grandfather discovered that we have Cherokee blood through one of my great-great-great grandmothers. When my ancestors arrived in America they were Quakers. When my grandfather was alive we were all documented members of the Son and Daughters of the Confederacy and the Sons and Daughters of the American Revolution.
Tonight I sat and read my grandfather’s published "letter" to his grandchildren and the generations that follow. His diary was written as a sort of family history-record of his life-love letter to us. The ones in my possession were his own personal copies of his published work. I see some of the entries made in his own hand after he received the books from the publisher. It is vital to keep the family history current. There are notations such as the birth of my oldest son, my grandfather’s first great-grandchild. He was so very proud. The handwriting is shaky but unmistakably his. I run my fingers over the words often because I know he touched the paper.
There is the page where he detailed the events leading up to my grandmother’s death. They were married for 50 years. I know it broke his heart to lose her. He felt it was important that her passing be recorded in some way other than a simple obituary. 
I was torn between voraciously reading every word he had written and closing my eyes so that I could "hear" him telling me the stories. I can still hear his voice. I still see him sitting on his porch "watching the cars go by" as he put it. Most of the time he was simply lost in thought. I know now that he was a deep "thinker". He had definite opinions about the world. Some of it thrilled and fascinated him like space exploration and computers. A lot of it dismayed and disgusted him. He lived through the depression and knew hunger and hardship on a first name basis. He worked three jobs at times. He lived a thrifty but rich life. Family was everything to him. Because of that we always knew that, no matter what, we had a place to call home as long as the family was "together".  He knew that a man will never have all he wants but that if he trusts in the good Lord he will have what he needs. He knew that hard work was the cure for a troubled mind.  If he was alive today he would probably be living out in the woods somewhere, with a garden and a shot gun. Then again, he just might be running the whole show.  His philosophy on politics was simple and very wise, "Quit talking about what is wrong with this great nation of ours and start talking about what is right. People that don’t learn from history really do repeat it." He was the personification of a hard working, civic minded, God fearing, family loving man.
Maybe I am feeling the absence of his presence more keenly than I usually admit, even to myself, because there is a new addition to our family. We have an "April Food’s" baby, bless her little heart. What a "road to hoe" she will have trying to live that down. Her name is Elizabeth Marie (Ellie) and she is my grandfather’s 21st great-grandchild. My cousin is one proud papa. As I sat and watched him holding her today I was struck by the fact that SubWay sells sandwiches bigger than she is!  Pop would be so proud. There is another sprout on the family tree.
Looking at my life, I can’t point to any significant accomplishments. There is no career or degrees that I can claim.  I have been a wife and a mother. I try to be a good friend. My heart’s desire is to live up to the standard set by this man. He was the "Patriarch" of our family. We all turned to him for love, guidance and protection. Twenty plus years after his death people still speak of him with fondness and respect as if he only just stepped out of the room for a moment and would return very shortly.  I will always be in awe of him.  If at the end of my life I can honestly say that I feel like I made him proud, I will be content.