Thursday, March 4, 2010

Friday Shoot Out- In Rememberance

I am with Ann (a comment on the members voice)- I like to get my word in as often as possible about the brillianty put together DNA of a baby girl I had on March 1st, 1986, at 11:50 PM, thirty hours of hard easy, but a long labor. All that time you put into being pregnant, a parent, and then to be told, or surprised by their death? Hardly seems worth it right?

Hell No!

I would not be who I am today if it was not for my children. Sure life molds you in so many ways, but children are a breath of fresh air! Laughs! Oh the screw ups you make as a parent are worth the laugh on their own.

Memories are what keep us going. Our heart grows in so many ways through loss. Not the path we would chose, but not our choice. You can go back through my post this week. Her birthday memorial of sorts. You will see every year that passes I am able to handle things that are thrown at me in life. I still cry, but losing my grandparents with in six months apart in 1994 was my first brush with loss. Seeing their home as seen below still sitting their, all the memories, but mamaw nor granddad Akin would answer the door if I were to go up and ring the door bell. That is hard to deal with. I spent so many years in their living room of 1305 Long Avenue, Fort Wort, Texas. I lived with my parents in the trailer in the backyard when I was born.

I no longer live in Texas, but my soul still wanders, follows small puffy white clouds that dot Texas skies reminding us of so many things, like tumbleweeds and mesquite trees dotting long dusty and hot highways (Bryan, already in a poem I wrote)...
















I took a trip to Texas last summer, a journey to re-visit my roots, something I was  running from for years, and I liked what I found. I not only found a family lineage of Tennessee heritage, but I found a voice for my poetry. I am now embracing my southern drawl. I let Ya'll slip out, a little hint of who I really am.

I look forward to taking a journey through your memories, and I hope you enjoy mine...
















I am proud of this shot above (I made her pose)- My dad's only sister/sibling, Aunt Earlene in front of Mammaw Estil's house, or where it used to be. She has dementia, and this was a good memory lane day for her. A neighbor bought the house; it was falling down, so they left the walkway, and first steps of the front porch. They planted a garden to honor the couple that occupied this farm for over 70 plus years.

My father's mom never quite got over her mother's death, and I remember her reflecting the loss when we were in her garden collecting fresh beef steak tomatoes.
















My grandfather called himself an inventor, and a poet. History of Scot-Irish immigrants in the Appalachian Mountains called them tinkerers. He built glider planes, and had a fascination with birds since childhood. My grandmother sewed the canvas coverings for them. He would have the residents of Breckenridge Texas help him push it off Metcalf Gap, Texas. To the left is a valley. He never crashed here. Earl T. Akin did however crash and killed his partner in the old barnstorming/wing walking days of the 1920's. He never like to talk about it, but an uncle would bring it up as they bragged about his accomplishments. My grandparents were deeply in love and you would see them kiss each other all the time. More of a loving peck.

My fathers family all lived to be in their nineties, and passed in their sleep, Granddad was 99 when he passed...
















I never knew my great grandparents, only their nine children, including my grandfather, Earl. I remember visiting Aunt Mytle's farm, fishing, rattle snakes on the end of her pitch fork, and her in a dress while she supported a flashy pair of cowboy boots. She was a hoot, and the only girl. This is the Akin homestead property still owned by my uncle John Ed. "You might not want to walk the property without a good pair of boots, and a snake kit close by", my uncle said to me as I took off towards the lake to see if I remember my first six pound catfish on the end of a fishing pole, and the jack rabbits that would jump in front of our car. Out came the shotgun as my father shot with precision at the nights menu entree to the rattle snake appetizer. Taste like chicken!
















Just down the road, on hundreds of acres of dusty west Texas soil is a cemetery, Post Oak. There are uncles, and aunts, cousins, relatives through marriage buried. Most of them lived through the Great Depression, and were true 'Hillbillies', as oil was found on the land, but they still lived frugal. A few miles down the main drag in Breckenridge is the cemetery my parents, and immediate relatives are buried, and they are as follows.














































My aunt stands in front of the Akin section of my fathers family. I am torn in whether to be buried her with my daughters ashes. Hubby is not so fond of these parts... This is the son of the youngest Akin brother who came over from Ireland and started it all in Texas...
















My Daughters, Anelisa Remembrance Piece

On the sidebar is a 'Camera' that leads to the other My Town Blogger Friday Shoot Outs, and you can join if you would like; it is fun to share shots of the town we live in as well as sharing themes such as this!

13 comments:

Ann said...

Dear Elizabeth,

Your challenge has sort of opened a can of worms, in a good way of course. You have challenged people to write on something close to them which they normally don't. (except me, I write all the time.) These writings will encourage and touch others. I thank you for this,

As regarding revisiting photos and videos, this will take time. I don't open up Andrew's album. It took me a long time to go to the internet to surf about the syndrome he had. When i did, and saw how sick some of the survivors are and how hard a struggle the parents go through, it gave me peace and closure. I didn't want Andrew to live like that, and I knew I wasn't strong enough to handle taking care of him.

As for one's final resting place, my philosophy is it doesn't matter. It's what is in my heart that matters. Having said that, 21 years ago, when Andrew died, and we were still very young, the funeral director suggested we buy a plot where we the parents could be buried one on top of each other, and Andrew can be buried at the end, without extra costs. We thought it was a good idea and bought our first real estate. (LOL)

Husbands are funny, mine has no need to go to cemeteries, not even his dad's grave. I don't go to Andrew's as we haven't got a head stone for him. Again not my choice. I console myself that I remember Andrew in my heart and my writings. Going to see his headstoneless grave will only upset me, and cause us to fight. On his birthday and anniversaries, i remind the family.

Take care.

Rebecca said...

Wow, what a post! A rich heritage. Memories do keep us going and give us the context in which we live. And now we all know where your gift for poetry comes from. And to live such long lives with the blessing of a peaceful passing is priceless!

Bagman and Butler said...

Elizabeth,
Your choice of themes this week was unique and courageous. I struggled with it, trying to be clever and then simply succumbed to the deeper, silent, feeling of it. Reading all of the posts, as well as yours, gives me a deapth of feeling...no laughs...but feelings I'm honored to take into my weekend. Thanks for suggesting this theme.
Mark

Queenmothermamaw said...

Turns out to be a very powerful theme E. I have enjoyed the stories and to know our fellow bloggers better. I too lost twin infants at birth. We are all from different parts but still the same in heart and soul.
QMM

GingerV said...

I have enjoyed this weeks theme. My thoughts were to avoid it... I shy from the emotions that would be here, but found I liked it after all. the stories are wonderful.... I am with B&B thank you Elizabeth.

SOL said...

I also read your post for your daughter which made me cry. Your love for her and your strength are beautiful and amazing. I also think that this topic has really opened a lot of people up and led to some amazing posts.

NanU said...

A beautiful post, Elizabeth. I envy the way you can go to a place and have so much of your family history right there. And the way you're so attached to your roots, and at peace with them.

Thank you for the theme!

Jessie Carty said...

you are definitely wanting me to sit down and really dig in deep. funny that you are doing this as well when i've just started writing several essays that seem to be revolving around the different trailers i lived in after my parents were divorced.

it is draining but rewarding writing. thanks for sharing some you you with us!

shabby girl said...

Oh, I really enjoyed reading about your roots.
This was a brilliant idea for a theme. We so often stay pretty shallow in our posts in blogland. I feel like I have gotten to know some of these friends a little better through your choice. Thank you!

Chef E said...

I appreciate everything you have said, and wanted to do this to allow some to speak about a very emotional subject that most just push deep inside and do not release what can really help in healing.

I always felt my pain would somehow hopefully reach another.

If I went deeper into what went on during that time after she passed, well it would really become a therapy session, so I tried to keep it light, if you can call it light :O)

Much love and hugs!

~JarieLyn~ said...

I like your Texas roots and I also love a Texas accent. I have lots of relatives in that part of the country.

This was an excellent theme and it was great reading about so many family histories that are rich with intrigue, and hardships, and fun and crazy and all that makes us who we are.

Thanks for choosing this.

Patty said...

Now I feel like I really know you. Great post.

Bryan Borland said...

Though he may not realize it yet, this post is a gift to your son.

As rich in history as a chocolate cake is in, well, chocolate!

And a joy to read.