Histocrats: Family. History.

This summer has been quite the summer to reflect on family and family history. My wife's mother died in June, 14 years after being diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer's. Her father, now widowed after 55 years of marriage, had knee replacement surgery a couple of weeks ago, after having the surgery postponed twice. We are so fortunate to have been able to retire and move down here two years ago, to a house 1/2 mile from theirs in order to spend time with them and to be here to help out.

A few weeks ago, a cousin created a new Facebook group for descendants of my maternal great great grandparents. It's already been great with cousins and relatives, many of whom I don't know, sharing pictures and stories, and the creator of the group has been a wealth of genealogical knowledge. When it comes to my own genealogy research, it comes and goes, in spurts. I'll build up a head of steam and put some time and effort into it for a while, and then other things come up, and I drift away for a while. The group is energizing me for another round.

On September 3, my Great Aunt Betty died at age 83. My maternal grandmother's sister, she was the youngest of eleven children. She was the type of aunt that made sure to keep track of the nieces and nephews, sometimes calling and saying, "Well, I just thought I'd check to see if you were still alive" if she hadn't heard from you in a while, and she was always pushing family members to keep in touch. That's her in the center of the family photo above. That leaves one of the 11 siblings still living, my Great Uncle Carl who is 94. Until recently, Uncle Carl was in fairly good health and still lived on his own. Sometimes I would give him a call and sometimes he would give me a call. Either way, I knew I was in store for a couple of hours of great family stories and recollections.

Over the weekend, we went back to my hometown in southeast Georgia for a family reunion of my father's side of the family. We were getting together for the first time since the pandemic shutdown. My father was one of ten siblings, and we were a reunion-having family. When my grandmother was alive, we had two reunions a year, once on Mother's Day and once around Christmas time. In the late 80s, my cousin Bob and his wife Debbie, the greatest hosts ever, took on the responsibility of hosting the annual reunion, moving it to September.

We decided to make it a weekend and do a little family history stuff. We planned a few cemetery visits, and we went to nearby Brewton Parker College, a small Baptist college, which has a small historic village that includes a house built in the 1790s and a house built by my 4th great grandfather around 1842, along with a small chapel and a stable. The professor in charge of the Village graciously agreed to give us a tour, although the buildings are usually opened only a couple of days a year for special events. It was the first time I had seen any of the structures, and I was quite proud that my ancestor's house was a part of it. There are plans to make the Village much more accessible and meaningful, and I hope that comes to pass.

Cooper-Conner House, c. 1798

Berry Thompson House (my 4th great grandfather), c. 1842

Then, we visited the house built around 1890 by my great great grandparents. My great grandfather and his siblings were born there, and it's still sitting on family land, next door to a cousin's house. One of my great grandfather's brothers and his wife raised a family there. In fact, she continued to live there until the early 1990s. I remember visiting there several times as a child. I always hoped that it would be restored and moved to an historic village or something. Unfortunately, at this point, it's too far gone, but I'm glad we went back to see it and take some pictures.

But back to the reunion on Saturday. As I said, the first since COVID, and it seems everybody was ready. The turnout was pretty good for us, probably about 40 people, including some non-regulars. While I miss the homemade chicken and dumplings and 12 layer caramel and chocolate cakes and other great dishes the older generations always brought, but we still ate well , and I think everybody enjoyed it. A lot of family stories were shared. We're really seeing the changing of the guard, so to speak. I'm the youngest grandchild, by five years, and I have first cousins up to their early 80s. Neither my father nor any of his siblings are alive today, and only two aunts by marriage survive. The older of the two, Aunt Mary, is 96, and she wanted to come to the reunion, but unfortunately she is very frail and can't stand or really move. So, one of her sons drove her to the reunion and parked under the shelter where the cooking was going on. Aunt Mary stayed in the car, and her nieces and nephews took turns talking with her for a couple of minutes each. Then, he drove her home. Fortunately, she knew us all. It was a touching moment, especially when we remembered that at the last reunion, when she was 92 or 93, she schooled a couple of her granddaughters in a game of pool.