There Is More Than One Way to Span a Gulf

 

 

Any time I travel through the mountains, I think of my ancestors. As I grow weary of driving in my climate-controlled roomy vehicle with nicely upholstered seats and steel-belted radials, I think of how my ancestors would have made the same trip. I drive over a bridge over the Clinch River and wonder how it got its name and then think of how my ancestors would have crossed that same river before the convenience of a bridge made it a simple crossing. As I imagine how my ancestors crossed that river, I imagine the reason that it was named the Clinch River. You see, my ancestors came upon that river and knew that they had to cross it to get to where they were going. The thought of adults making that crossing without a bridge boggles my mind, but families with passels of young ones had to make the crossing. And that is how the Clinch River got its name. My ancestors looked at that expanse of water and then looked at all of the little faces they would need to get safely across and they had to clench their butt cheeks together to keep from soiling their drawers! The sign-maker just didn't know how to spell! Of course, I later found out that that was really not how it got its name. It seems that it was named for a Mr. Clinch. Still, back in the day, I bet that there was some butt cheek clenching going on! 

So anyway, thinking about my ancestors’ travels has changed me from taking bridges for granted to having a fondness for them! As important as the engineered structures are, and as much as I have grown to appreciate them, another kind of bridge has become even dearer to me over time!

My mother’s mother died when Mom was only nine. Mom was the oldest of seven children who ranged in age from ten months to nine years old at the time of their mammy’s death. Grandpa tried to keep his family together, but he worked away in the mines and he just could not do it alone. My mom, the oldest and my Uncle Johnnie, the baby, went to live with Mammy’s sister Alta’s family. The others started out with other family members but ended up in children’s homes.

Now we lived in Dayton, Ohio and the children’s home was in Kentucky. My dad worked more than one job. He had little spare money or spare time but on every holiday and on every break, he drove to Kentucky to pick up Mom’s brothers so they could spend time with their family in Ohio. My brother and I  also got the chance to know and love our uncles.

 

                                                            Dad and my brother and I

 

                                                         My uncles at the children's home.

Dad served as a bridge between the children’s home and family. If that bridge had not been there, my uncles would have had to stay “on the other side of the river” away from family. I have heard each of Mom’s brothers who grew up in the home say that Dad was really more like a father to them than a brother-in-law and Mom was more like a mother than a sister.

Dad has continued to act as a bridge in other ways. He made sure to take us to visit Grandma and Grandpa Smith in Kentucky as often as possible. I would have never had so many sweet memories of visiting them if Dad had not been that bridge. When our family moved from Ohio, where sooo many family members lived to Middle Tennessee, he made sure that we went back to visit our Ohio family as often as possible. Dad has served as a wonderful bridge!

 

                        Grandma and Grandpa front left, Dad back right and five of his siblings

Now my Aunt Cleo, really my grand-aunt, was another bridge. I always thought of her as the hub of our family’s wheel, but she was also a bridge.

 

                                        Aunt Cleo second from left in back, with her family.

Aunt Cleo’s husband passed away eight days after their youngest child celebrated his 8th birthday. Their oldest daughter had married and wasn’t at home, but Aunt Cleo still had five children remaining at home. I know that her grief must have been a terrible burden, but I imagine the added burden of losing the household’s main breadwinner was overwhelming.

Aunt Cleo was made of much sterner stuff than I. She was a strong woman with a strong faith and I am sure she knew that God would see her through, and He did.

Not only did Aunt Cleo raise six wonderful children, but she also had room in her big heart and her small home to welcome many extended family members. Sometimes my uncles who lived in the children’s home would visit Aunt Cleo and stay awhile with her. Any time my family was visiting other family in Kentucky, we would stop by to visit Aunt Cleo. Over the years, Aunt Cleo always greeted us with open arms and a beaming Aunt Cleo grin!

 

                                                       Aunt Cleo welcoming family

So Aunt Cleo was a bridge for family members while she lived and she has continued to be a bridge even though she passed away back in 2010.

I visited her children and grandchildren in London, Kentucky a few years back. They brought out boxes and albums of photos left behind by Aunt Cleo so that I could scan them and share them with other family in our family Facebook group. Some of those photos were labeled and we recognized who they were. Some were not labeled and we could identify some, but others we sadly could not place. Others had vague labels like “Aunt Martha and Uncle Jeff”. Even with that hint, no one knew who Aunt Martha and Uncle Jeff were. Others were similarly labeled with just a first name that no one recognized, a name like Nettie. Who was Nettie? No one could say.

It was only later when I was researching on Ancestry that I found that my 2XG grandmother had a half-sister named Martha who was married to a Jefferson Davis Hall. 2XG grandma also had a granddaughter named Nettie who was the daughter of my great-grandpa’s half-sister. I expect that as I continue my research, I will find how others in Aunt Cleo's photos are related to us.

Aunt Cleo seemed to have always cherished ALL family members and collected pictures from so many of them. It is because she carefully saved these photos given to her by family members that many family members from my mother’s side are not just names on the line of a tree. We can actually see what they looked like. We can see how the smile of a past family member looks so much like the smile of an aunt or a child today.

Aunt Cleo has been gone several years. Her legacy lives on as she continues to act as a bridge between past family members and current family members through the collection of cherished photos she left behind. She cherished those photos and the family they show in life. We continue to cherish the same after her death.

I have an older cousin, Ms. Leola, who has also been a beautiful bridge for our family. She grew up right next door to my great-grandparents. She saw them on a daily basis and knew them well. My dad and other family members did not really remember much about them as they did not have the opportunity to know them as well as Ms. Leola. She has shared so many memories and stories of Great-grandpa Calvin and Great-grandma Rhoda that I almost feel like I really knew them even though Rhoda died before I was born and Calvin died shortly after I was born.

 

                                                                        Ms. Leola

I want to mention one more bridge that isn’t the kind that crosses over a body of water. That bridge is DNA. Like my Aunt Cleo and Ms. Leola, it connects past family members to current family members, and in turn current family members to other current family members. Sadly, DNA testing can lead to rejection, but it can also lead to beautiful reunions. I suppose the word reunion indicates a prior union and many times this is not the case. So, DNA can lead to beautiful unions. This has happened in my own family. So thanks to God for the DNA bridge which helps to join past to present, present to present, and past and present to the future! Thanks to God for all of our wonderful bridges!