Recently, I have been doing a lot
of family research for membership in the Daughters of the American
Revolution. I don’t know why, at my age,
suddenly it has become a mission other than the fact that I never knew I would
remotely qualify for admission. So,
after finding out my gggg grandfather had served in the Revolutionary War, I set
out to become a member of what my impression had deemed a coveted and special
“club”. It is still special, but I have a greater understanding of the requirements. Not as easy as it sounds. I may never reach my goal due to strict
guidelines of proving lineage. I’m
almost there, but not there yet.
That’s not the focus of this
story, however. While reading everything
I can get my hands on that may give me any history of my heritage and pedigree,
I have read and re-read my Mom’s special log book “Memories – Reflections of My
Life” looking for clues. What I really
want to tell you about it is how precious it is to look at her entries and in
my mind’s eye, be that chubby little round faced girl who grew up to become
that amazing woman that I called Momma. I
can visualize so clearly her wide brown eyes and little fingers as she tiptoes
to reach the piano keys. I can see her
playing around in the dirt at Big Daddy’s shop with her hammer he “loaned” her
to make her table from scrap wood. I
imagine the excitement of the little ones getting a “sack” when Big Daddy came
home from the store and always remembered to bring them some stick candy. And the time when they took a trip to see her
brother in the Model T ford which had to be cranked by hand and they tried to
cross the river when it was swollen with flood water from a storm. And as
she grows older, I can imagine how she swooned over my Daddy when she first saw
him and was asked out on a date with him when all the girls were asking “who’s
the new good looking boy in town”?
The family of Tom and Nona Scott
never had much in terms of material things.
They worked hard raising seven boys and three girls in the country near
Dellwood, Georgia. According to
Momma’s memories, her father was a tall, sturdy and good looking man, quite
muscular and emotionally stable. He was
a happy family man, not so well off financially, but always worked hard and
made a living for them all. He wasn’t a
social man much, but had many, many friends that loved and respected him. He was a blacksmith. Something we don’t know too much about today,
but had his own shop where he worked every day repairing wagons wheels and
buggies, and shoeing horses. Mother
would play with the little scrap pieces of spokes from the wheels and make her
a little table using the spokes for the legs.
He never used profanity, spoke well, and taught the children never to
use slang words. He was beyond reproach
as a father and husband.
Nona, my Grandmother, was
everything a Mother should be. Her home
and children were central to her life.
She was a happy person, singing hymns while cooking, sewing, and
cleaning. She was content with what she
had, although she never acquired many worldly goods. Her outlook on life was one that never dwelt
on gloom. With just a meager education,
she managed to teach her children good grammar and didn’t accept anything
less. She loved pretty things, and
though nothing she ever owned could have been very expensive, she was a
stickler for neatness.
Attendance to church was
mandatory to the family and family prayer was held each night as they knelt
around the fire. Of the people who my Momma admired the most
in her life, she says “First and foremost, as a child, I most admired my Mother
and Father. They were the greatest two
people on earth because they taught us all the right things to say and do and
to become. They
were special people!
Reading Momma’s memories of her
first day of school, her Christmas seasons, her first date, her marriage, and people
who most influenced her in life is like having a sweet conversation with
her. It hasn’t given me the information
that I seek, but I keep reading through my tears, as I remember who I am, who
she was, who her Mother and Father were and how my life was shaped forever by those who loved me and sacrificed for
me.
