The Memory Fades
Family You Know and Family You Didn't
The summer before I was two years old, I met my only living great grandfather, who was my grandmother's father. I didn't remember meeting him until my mother showed me her wedding photos. My parents were both in the room and my mother said that I couldn't possibly remember him since I was a baby when he died. I was 1 year, 11 months and 7 days old when he died.
When I described him coming into the room where I was playing on the floor at my grandfather's feet, my father asked me to tell them exactly what I remember.
My mother looked astounded and my father made a "hurumpf" sound. I was quite sure that I was alone in my grandmother's house that day with my grandparents taking care of me.
The clincher was that I remembered that he smelled strongly of cigarettes and what my grandmother said to my grandfather when she opened the French doors and gave her father a gentle push inside the living room.
Neither thing is provable but she said, "Evans. J. Fred is here". The man, the oldest person in my family at that point, came directly to me and ruffled my hair. I thought, "Oh, the other grandpa." and went back to playing with the puzzle of blocks on the floor. He sat down in a chair next to my grandfather and talked to him.
Don't discount even a tiny memory of what you remember. I will always be glad I remember that.
These are the only three surviving photos of James Frederick Barber (1866-1949) One taken in 1918, one taken in a group photo in 1938 and the one of him at my parent's wedding in 1946. He was always called J. Fred.
Who was alive in your lifetime?
When I described him coming into the room where I was playing on the floor at my grandfather's feet, my father asked me to tell them exactly what I remember.
My mother looked astounded and my father made a "hurumpf" sound. I was quite sure that I was alone in my grandmother's house that day with my grandparents taking care of me.
The clincher was that I remembered that he smelled strongly of cigarettes and what my grandmother said to my grandfather when she opened the French doors and gave her father a gentle push inside the living room.
Neither thing is provable but she said, "Evans. J. Fred is here". The man, the oldest person in my family at that point, came directly to me and ruffled my hair. I thought, "Oh, the other grandpa." and went back to playing with the puzzle of blocks on the floor. He sat down in a chair next to my grandfather and talked to him.
Don't discount even a tiny memory of what you remember. I will always be glad I remember that.
These are the only three surviving photos of James Frederick Barber (1866-1949) One taken in 1918, one taken in a group photo in 1938 and the one of him at my parent's wedding in 1946. He was always called J. Fred.
Who was alive in your lifetime?
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