Yesterday when I was writing about my family I mentioned how my great grandfather had passed away in the Alms house at Yapank, New York. He suffered from stomach cancer and had no means of support. The how and why of that situation I just don't know, he had family. Why he didn't live with them, why they didn't care for him, why, I have no clue. That he entered and left that Alms house on several occasions is recorded. You could be accepted and rejected for many reasons.
From all accounts the Alms house wasn't a very pleasant place to find yourself. In colloquial jargon, it was the poor house. When I was young I would hear the old folks talk about that. You'll wind up in the poor house was a constant admonishment for making poor decisions with your money. I thought it was where poor people went, and that was a part of it, but it was also where you went when you couldn't afford health care. The state provided those services.
The horror stories about those alms houses are plentiful and hold a great deal of the truth about them. There were very strict rules and regulations that had to be followed. Everyone was required to work, to contribute to the functioning of that place to the extent of their abilities. That there were abuses is beyond question. Great Grandfather Christian suffered the indignity of that place, suffered from the abuses, but apparently had no other options. I thought all of that was long ago. I should say longer ago. He passed away in 1940! 1940 is only eight two years ago. Time is subjective isn't it? Christian out lived two brothers and his wife. He also outlived his son, Elwood. His grandson, my father was born in 1924. I don't believe my father ever knew that his grandfather Christian was still alive! With the death of his own father, when he was eight, connections to that family were severed.
But there may have been some knowledge, spoken in whispers. The gentleman I mentioned yesterday that we called Uncle Ben had been the best friend of grandfather Elwood. Grandfather Elwood being my Dad's dad. I have a picture of that man when he came to visit my father. It was sometime after grandfather Elwood had passed. He surely would have known all about Christian, Catherine, and the rest of the family from that side. I wonder if grandfather Elwood and his family had become estranged. Remember Grandfather Elwood remarried shortly after the death of grandmother Clara, my dad's mom, and his sons from that marriage stayed with great grandmother Lucy. Six years passed and grandfather Elwood had two more sons, but never did his first two sons go to live with him again. He passed away in 1932.
Was all of that kept quiet, not spoken of in polite company, as we used to say? Dad rarely spoke of any of that. He mentioned, a few times, the name Gaffga that meant something to him, he knew he was related somehow. I don't believe he knew exactly what that connection was. Dad was close to Aunt Minnie, Elwood's sister. They visited often and she was very good and generous to us kids. Surely there must have been talk. But, it was her brother that had tragically died so young and one does not speak ill of the dead. Perhaps it was a topic left unspoken. Remember Elwood's wife Clara had died and the children left with her parents. Elwood's father Christian had done similar. When Catherine died his daughter went to live with her grandfather, I think his son did as well. He didn't raise them after that. It was beginning to look like a legacy!
There are many other knots in the family story yet to be untied. It is a tangled mess. The more I discover, the more I ask questions? The biggest problem being there are few left that have the answers. We all have at least eight great grandparents. That's if you only count first marriages, multiple marriages aren't uncommon. Each generation has its' secrets. There are those things not spoken about, not brought up in conversation for a wide variety of reasons. Many of those secrets are taken to the grave. I'm no exception. I have secrets too. Secret knowledge. The thing is I don't want to carry that knowledge with me for eternity. I will write it down eventually. Then, it is my hope that one day it will be discovered. Discovered and read with the impartiality of a history book.
It's a strange feeling however, to discover secrets. All those names, those lives and the choices they made. They are my relatives. I feel a sense of connection. I'm ashamed of some of their choices, question their motives and thoughts. I'm like most people we don't want to say anything bad about the past. It's true even when we are distant from that past. We are elated if we discover the good, disappointed when we discover the bad. It's judgement without context. There are no witnesses. You are the only eye witness to your life. What will be said or written about you is what others see. Are you good with that?
No comments:
Post a Comment