Loved Ones Gone, But Never Forgotten...

As I grow older, I find myself remembering people and places from my childhood.

Like the places, many of the people are gone forever from this earth and never shall I see them again as I remember them. Sometimes I get a little sad, when I think about this. My Mama (pronounced muh-maw) and Papa (puh-paw) Garrison from Buffalo, West Virginia, Mama Hall and Papa Alton in Larue, Ohio, my Aunt Georgeanne, my Dad, My Grandma Betty Jean (pictured in the early 1940's), many friends and others. They are all gone, but of course not forgotten.

Lately, as my life has changed and I find myself more of an adult and more responsible than ever before in my life, I find myself taking pages from the books of each of these people. One book which has had a lot of pages dog-eared lately is my Grandma Betty Jean's and henceforth, her mothers book by proxy, my Mama Hall.

To explain this, I will need to provide you with the prospective I had of my Grandma. Maybe not who or what she really was, but "who I thought she was", so to say.

Grandma was young (17) when she married and soon after had my mother. She grew up in the hills of West Virginia, her parents having divorced sometime in her childhood. She often talked about how "mean" her stepmommy Catherine was. How Catherine had "threw all her comic books over the river bank". Catherine, my Grandma's sister Mary Ann and Grandma had a singing trio and they would travel around singing in churches. I have heard it told that they sang pretty.

Grandma and Grandpa were born around 1930. They grew up through the depression and into WWII. Grandma's mother, Mama Hall (who only died about 10 years ago, around 1998, close to 90 years old) often told stories about Oleo (which was a white margarine which came with a little yellow dye packet to make it look like butter), rations and then the boom times the war made back home (women working in factories, etc.). Mama had even moved to my hometown, Columbus, Ohio around the time of the war and worked in the Timken Roller Bearing factory.

My speculation is that since Grandma's father, my Great-Grand-Pappy Ralph, was in the Navy, off to the War, it lerft my Grandma pretty much to her own devices around the time she was 15-17 and she saw the writing on the wall. She hit the ground running, not looking back and starting life with a family of her own.

Given the circumstances, this was one of her best choices. She and my Grandpa eventually found themselves living and working in Columbus, Ohio. A lot of "hillbillies" were transplanted from Kentucky, West Virgina and even Tennessee to Ohio, Indiana and Michigan where the "jobs" were. Post war factories (especially automobile) were popping up all across the midwest. Grandma first worked in a pharmacy and later held a longterm position at the Western Electric (later to become AT&T) plant in Columbus, while Grandpa found himself at General Motors for about 38 years.

Truly, they were some of the most responsible people I ever met. There was never a hint of economic trouble (at least not visible to us kids, maybe as it should be). The house was always VERY clean and orderly. Everything had it's place and way of being put there. Both Grandma AND Grandpa were responsible for this, too. I am sure that she was the "mastermind" behind the planning and organization of things, but he was 100% on board with everything. Even though they had grown up in the hills, the presented a remarkable example of forward thinking in equality and shared responsibility.

After Grandma took an early buyout retirement (around 1975 when I was ten), she became more responsible for the house, at least the inside. Grandpa domain was about 85% outside, while hers became about 85% inside.

Just so you don't get the wrong idea, there were mistakes made. I am not here to air dirty laundry though, and it will suffice to say that the problems they had were well within the realm of what would be considered "normal".

Here is what I will say: Not anywhere in my life does 1 Corinthians 13:11-12 have more meaning:

"When I was a child, I spake as a child, I felt as a child, I thought as a child: now that I am become a man, I have put away childish things. For now we see in a mirror, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know fully even as also I was fully known. "

I often considered my Grandma to be "mean". My brother and I - I was the elder, so I was the likely instigator - actually (shamefully) called her, "Mean Betty Jean" on several occasions). Her "rules" seemed excessive and I did not see nor understand their purposes. She seemed often irritated, especially when we were smart, sassy or hateful. Looking back, it seems she had cause most of the time.

Since then, I have been a lot of places and worn a lot of hats. I have been a slob and irresponsible. I have been a Sergeant in the US Army Military Police. I have been a sometimes good, sometimes bad father of four. I was a drug addict and dealer. I was a prisoner, literally and figuratively.

Having finally resolved myself to not be the bad things I once clung to dearly. The Bible explains this better than I can in Ephesians 4:22-24:

"That ye put away, as concerning your former manner of life, the old man, that waxeth corrupt after the lusts of deceit; and that ye be renewed in the spirit of your mind, and put on the new man, that after God hath been created in righteousness and holiness of truth."

A wonderful directive and command. But how do I do this, what example do I use as a pattern for the "new man"?

For me, I borrow the "good pages" from all my loved ones, living and dead. From friends and family alike. Of course I temper that with my roadmap or owners manual for life, the living Word of God. Grandma's (and Grandpa's) book, as I said, has a LOT of dog eared pages. They are pictured here in about 1979-80 with my brother, sister, cousins and I.

I know my place now. I know that *I* must do my part out of love and I will enjoy life more abundantly.

Grandma died about three years ago. I was gone and not able to come home. It was sad. Since then (and since my recovery about 3 years ago, also), I have found myself often, when touching the face of God, seeing my Grandmother in Him.

With Love,

Ed Yaekle