Jackson and I spent the weekend in the country. Both sets of my grandparents lived in the same small town about 2 hours northeast of our house. This was the first year that we placed flowers on my Granny's grave. Both my Granny and Papa's entire families are buried in the same
cemetery.
And my Gerty and Papa's families are buried in the neighboring town on a hilltop
cemetery. Memorial Day was always very important to my Gerty and I promised her that after she died I would continue to place flowers on her and Papa's relatives. Between the two
cemeteries I visited 21 graves carefully following the list that Gerty gave me. I put flowers on my great-great Grandpa Sidney who fought for the Union (Illinois infantry) in the Civil War. And his wife Anna who rocked her babies with the rocker that now sits in my bedroom. My great grandpa William who died of the
influenza epidemic in 1918 when my Gerty was just 2 months old. My grandpa's three aunts- Minnie the only one who married, Ella the one who collected the family history, and Belle the one who must have been slightly mentally retarded. Gerty's Uncle Earl who died when he was 21 in a hunting accident. Granny's Daddy Clarance who died a month after they arrived from Kentucky- from pneumonia he caught on the buggy ride home from the train station. The stories that build my family.
Then we headed to Dalton Days. A mostly African American small town reunion. Dalton once housed one of the few African American colleges. Up on the hill by the
cemetery. There's fried chicken and fish. I missed the parade this year. I was in the bathroom. It featured 4 units. A police car, a firetruck and what Jack called 2 random cars. One was a local politician running for some office. He and Grandma about split a gut over it though. In past year's it's been much much bigger.
Then Jack spent the afternoon fishing in my Papa's pond. Actually it's my Uncle Jimmy's pond since he lives there now. He caught a grand total of 8.
Including this one. It's the world's record for smallest fish.
Jackson drove! He drove from my Granny's house about 1 mile on a gravel road to the blacktop. It might have been a little
herky jerky but he did pretty darn well for his first time. I do believe that my Grandpa and Dad taught me to drive on that very same stretch of gravel road. Except I was a lot more
herky jerky.
And my Gerty and Papa's families are buried in the neighboring town on a hilltop cemetery. Memorial Day was always very important to my Gerty and I promised her that after she died I would continue to place flowers on her and Papa's relatives. Between the two cemeteries I visited 21 graves carefully following the list that Gerty gave me. I put flowers on my great-great Grandpa Sidney who fought for the Union (Illinois infantry) in the Civil War. And his wife Anna who rocked her babies with the rocker that now sits in my bedroom. My great grandpa William who died of the influenza epidemic in 1918 when my Gerty was just 2 months old. My grandpa's three aunts- Minnie the only one who married, Ella the one who collected the family history, and Belle the one who must have been slightly mentally retarded. Gerty's Uncle Earl who died when he was 21 in a hunting accident. Granny's Daddy Clarance who died a month after they arrived from Kentucky- from pneumonia he caught on the buggy ride home from the train station. The stories that build my family.
Then we headed to Dalton Days. A mostly African American small town reunion. Dalton once housed one of the few African American colleges. Up on the hill by the cemetery. There's fried chicken and fish. I missed the parade this year. I was in the bathroom. It featured 4 units. A police car, a firetruck and what Jack called 2 random cars. One was a local politician running for some office. He and Grandma about split a gut over it though. In past year's it's been much much bigger.
Then Jack spent the afternoon fishing in my Papa's pond. Actually it's my Uncle Jimmy's pond since he lives there now. He caught a grand total of 8. 
Including this one. It's the world's record for smallest fish.
Jackson drove! He drove from my Granny's house about 1 mile on a gravel road to the blacktop. It might have been a little herky jerky but he did pretty darn well for his first time. I do believe that my Grandpa and Dad taught me to drive on that very same stretch of gravel road. Except I was a lot more herky jerky. 
