Chiriquí Chatter

Going through some old photos, I came upon this one. Sometimes it is good to look back at your roots and say thanks to those that helped start you in this world. It would have been better if I had done it while more of them were alive.

From the left rear we have My Aunt Gladys, my dad, my Uncle Paul, my Uncle Harold and my Aunt Irma. On the left front are my Aunt Mary, my granddad, my grandma, and my Uncle Horace. I am not sure when this was taken, but I would guess somewhere around 1935, 1936, 0r 1937.

I have distinct memories about each one in the photo with the exception of my grandma who died in 1937. It is possible that this was taken just before her death.

My aunts were all schoolteachers. They were all very smart and very caring ladies. My Aunt Irma was the family historian and could tell you if you had the Williams ear or thumb. She donated more blood than anyone I knew but I think my Uncle Horace who is still donating and approaching his 90th birthday has passed her now.

All of my aunts have now passed on but they have left a legacy of strong hard working, honest children (my cousins).

My Uncle Paul was the first of the brothers to pass away and at a very young age - 33. I was 3 when he died so that might have been about 8 years after this photo. I remember that year me, my uncles and my dad went swimming in a big pond that was on granddad’s farm. Paul had spent a lot of time playing with me in the pond. Right before we were going to leave, he said he was going to swim across the pond one last time. He went about half way and went under. My dad swam over, got him, and pulled him to shore and pumped the water out of him and brought him back to consciousness. It is funny, I just double-checked the dates, because I am surprised I have such a clear memory of that incident and I couldn’t have been over 3. Not long after that he was found dead in a granary where he had been shoveling wheat and possibly had a heart attack. He was really a handsome man.

My dad was next, dieing a day before my 12th birthday. I remember we had gone out early that morning to find some of our cattle that had gotten out. My dad chased some of them to get them back in the lot. He had a heart attack later that morning as he drove to teach school. I remember him as a person that knew everyone. And everyone knew him. For years after his death I would run into some of his friends and they would introduce themselves and say, “You probably don’t remember me, but your dad and I were buds.” He always has a smile on his face and his handshake was a solemn contract.

My Uncle Harold is in failing health. I have seen him twice in the last two years and don’t think that he knew that I was there either time. I think he is now 93. He served in the army in WWII in the Aleutian Islands. My dad kept a Life magazine that had photos taken of the solders there and he had one circled that he was certain was Uncle Harold.

My Uncle Horace is my inspiration. He was the baby of the family and will have his 90th birthday in May. Following my dad’s death, Uncle Horace filled in many times as a father figure. He still drives to the farm everyday to check on his cattle and his favorite dog. Last harvest he was plowing the fields and my cousin Glenda said he would probably die in a tractor one day, but he would die a happy man. If you can live to his age and have the mind that he has, you have done well.

Now getting back to the primary root of this family photo – my granddad. I got to see him the most after he had left the farm and when he was living with my Aunt Irma who cared for him till his death. He died after he had reached his 100th birthday. I remember in his 90s he was still taking walks. I wish I had been wise enough to talk to him about the things he had done and had seen. I remember that he received a personal letter from President Eisenhower (Ike) on his 100th birthday.

His sister Belle who also lived to a ripe old age, over 100, survived him.

While many of them are now gone, none are forgotten.

Tags: Reflecting