My Parents as People

November 26, 2007

Nathan and I returned from our somewhat-annual pilgrimage to Georgia last night about 6:30. I grew up in Georgia and most of my family still lives there. I was so grateful to have Joe at home when I got here, someone to come home to after a long, harrowing drive. He house-sat while I was gone, feeding the cat, getting the mail, keeping the house warm, even installing high-speed internet. And last night he picked up dinner for us at Rib Crib. It was so, so nice to come home to all that rather than, OK, here we are, too tired to unpack or eat.

Nathan and I had a wonderful time while on vacation. One task I set out to accomplish was copying some of Mom’s old pictures, pictures of her & Dad “way back when.” I copied some of Dad’s Air Force pictures and later on when I had the chance, I asked him if he could remember how old he was or about what year they were taken. Well, what do you know, he got so interested in old pictures that he got out Grandma Hedden’s old pictures, some of which date back to the 1920s, 1930s, & 1940s. It was so fun and so interesting; in fact I don’t know when I’ve seen him so happy about ANYTHING (not only that, but I also think that’s the longest amount of time I’ve spent one-on-one with him, EVER in my life).

Mom said he was feeling so much better since his visit to Emory. Hospital in Atlanta, that is. A few years back he when he was hospitalized for severe bleeding that wouldn’t stop, he was told by the doctors that his blood has Factor 8 (clotting agent) but inhibitors kept it from working. This time though, they said he DIDN’T have the inhibitors, and therefore he could receive Factor 8 artificially. Also his Doctor (a lady, I don’t remember her name) is doing a study on hemophiliac patients, and he agreed to be part of the study. So he felt much better, as anyone would, receiving some hope finally.

The pictures of my dad in the Air Force were taken at Lackland AFB in San Antonio in the mid 1950s. He had to have all his teeth removed to get dentures, and he almost bled to death. That's when he discovered he was a bleeder. He was honorably discharged after only 3 months of service.

He and my mom met a few years later in 1957 in Cleveland, OH. My mom was hanging out with her roomate, Victoria, and my dad showed up with his buddy too. That is pretty much all I know about their first meeting, except that my mom loved living on her own in Cleveland, and can still, 50 years later, describe the streets and buildings and sights in detail.

When I looked thru Mom’s pictures, by contrast she was all sad and depressed and full of bad memories. I asked her if she had good memories of ANYTHING, and she said No. That’s too bad, and I feel for her, but Let me have this! Let me enjoy getting to know my parents as PEOPLE and not just as the folks that raised me.

Another task I accomplished during our visit was trekking up to Murphy, NC, to see the house. The house my dad grew up in, that is. It’s not really his house; his only surviving brother and sister, my aunt and uncle, actually own the property now. I visited it countless times as a child, and specifically remember a family reunion there when I was about 12 years old.

And it's still there. Daddy told me later, that his Grandma Hedden’s dad, the Evans’, got the land in the Land Lottery when President Jackson expelled the Cherokees to the West in the infamous Trail of Tears. That was 1838. Wow, it’s been in the family ever since.