2009 Is Not Shaping Up To Be A Good Year
When my grandfather's father was a boy, his mother died in childbirth. Unable to care for Papaw John and his brothers, Grandfather Horace sent the boys to his brothers house, in Athens, TN. They were raised there for six years or more, and attended Pond Hill Baptist Church every Sunday. Grandma Sarah and the baby are buried in that cemetery. Papaw John's best friend was his cousin Willard, called W.T. for short. They were as good as or better than brothers for the rest of their lives.
They even joined up for WWII together. Papaw John was a tank driver, and W.T. joined the Navy. He served in the Pacific, and his ship was even Kamikaze'd. Papaw John never saw any real action, he became sick. The Army doctor diagnosed him with Tuberculosis, gave him six months to live and an honorable discharge. It was after the war that he was finally well enough to work again. By that time, W.T. had gone up north a bit. He called up John and said "Come up here! There are plenty of jobs up here." So, it was W.T.'s fault that my family moved to Bristol, TN.
They found houses near each other, bought similar cars, and even picked out cemetery plots as close as possible together.
He took it very hard when Papaw John died (I was ten) and when my great-grandmother died (I was sixteen), even harder when Daddy Don died. Soon after, his wife of forever, Marie, passed on, both in 2006, I was 24.
Today, at one o'clock, my "Uncle" W.T. joined them.
People hear "great-grandfather's cousin" and think WTF? SO? But this isn't ancient history to me. I knew these people, as a child I played with them, and as an adult I listened to their stories. This isn't some random relation I never knew.
This was the last link to my grandfathers family before my grandmother. All the old Monroe's, the ones that work so hard to do something other than work on a farm, the ones that moved away and learned skills their grandfathers only dreamed of learning, all the Pond Hill Monroe's of my family are gone.
Good Luck, W.T. I know they've been waiting on you, up there. It wouldn't be right for Papaw John to have gone on alone, not when you did everything together.
They even joined up for WWII together. Papaw John was a tank driver, and W.T. joined the Navy. He served in the Pacific, and his ship was even Kamikaze'd. Papaw John never saw any real action, he became sick. The Army doctor diagnosed him with Tuberculosis, gave him six months to live and an honorable discharge. It was after the war that he was finally well enough to work again. By that time, W.T. had gone up north a bit. He called up John and said "Come up here! There are plenty of jobs up here." So, it was W.T.'s fault that my family moved to Bristol, TN.
They found houses near each other, bought similar cars, and even picked out cemetery plots as close as possible together.
He took it very hard when Papaw John died (I was ten) and when my great-grandmother died (I was sixteen), even harder when Daddy Don died. Soon after, his wife of forever, Marie, passed on, both in 2006, I was 24.
Today, at one o'clock, my "Uncle" W.T. joined them.
People hear "great-grandfather's cousin" and think WTF? SO? But this isn't ancient history to me. I knew these people, as a child I played with them, and as an adult I listened to their stories. This isn't some random relation I never knew.
This was the last link to my grandfathers family before my grandmother. All the old Monroe's, the ones that work so hard to do something other than work on a farm, the ones that moved away and learned skills their grandfathers only dreamed of learning, all the Pond Hill Monroe's of my family are gone.
Good Luck, W.T. I know they've been waiting on you, up there. It wouldn't be right for Papaw John to have gone on alone, not when you did everything together.