When I saw this headline on my home page this morning, I knew I had to repost the link for my readers.
My grandfather was also a soldier in WWI. Roy George Gifford, born February 22, 1897 and died April 7, 1966.
My grandfather lost his eye in an accident while working at a factory in Illinois. The accident left him disabled to the point of not being able to work in that type of job any longer. He did various other things to bring in income. I remember riding in his big station wagon when he delivered bleach. After finishing the route, he'd take me to a little diner for a strawberry malted milk. His pet name for me was "kidlet."
My grandfather taught me to ride a bicycle, and he cooked the best potato soup in the world.
Sometimes I reminisce by going back through pictures and wish I had been as diligent of preserving history as my mother and grandmother were. This year I plan to surprise my children with a CD filled with pictures of their grandparents and great grandparents...a historical biography in pictures.
Time passes so quickly and sometimes we are either too busy or too young to capture the moments that mean little to us, yet will mean so much to future generations.
4 comments:
That's such a nice thing to do for your children. I would like something like for myself. I'm always asking my mom questions about old pictures and I'm afraid I won't remeber to pass it on to my children if I don't write it down.
I too have wonderful memories of my Grandfather - the stories he would tell, the songs he would sing. He thought the sun moon and stars shone out of me - I felt the love.
It was a special relationship that I cherish the memory of.
Love and hugs,
Linda
I love this, Carol Ann. Sorry I'm late coming to the blog. I didn't have an ancestor in WWI, but I'm writing a novel about a soldier who comes home in 1919 to North Texas and finds his entire family dead from the Spanish flu--which killed more people worldwide than died in the war in Europe.
Neighbors burned down everything on the farm...and well, it's a complicated story.
I wrote this based on a letter my sisters and I found in Mother's house when we cleaned it out. A yellow letter written by our grandmother in 1918 about not feeling well--everyone had the awful sickness--and two weeks later, she died. My mother was three and her little sister was one. I use them in my story.
Aren't there endless real-life stories out there? Thanks...for the memories. Celia
Thanks everyone for commenting on this post. Celia, your story sounds really good. Our elders have so many stories and there are many times when they are overlooked, neglected and abused. How I wish we could cherish our elders with the respect and love they so deserve.
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