a christmas eve wedding

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I wonder if my GranMa's early girlhood dreams included a young man from Virginia? Maybe.

He came to her hometown with the Norfolk & Western-and whether she initially had eyes for him-He did for her. The story goes that one day Bessie was walking along uptown and George-upon seeing her-pronounced to his friend- "See that girl in the red coat? I am going to marry her."

It was love at first sight for him & I am sure when Bess was properly introduced to George Joseph-she was impressed with this handsome, quick witted, intelligent man. From a fine Maryland family and though last in line for its wealth, she had to think he would make good-as they say- and he would. 

A courtship, with bouquets & the passing of letters ensued. Some of the letters have been kept and they show a darling and clever George at his witty best.

A proposal was made.

Accepted.

The pair was married in her small family home with pine boughs and candles & a neat fire in the hearth.

The bride wore a simple blue suit-no doubt made by her mother's skillful hand and held a bouquet of parma violets the color of her eyes.

Bessie & George were married December 24,1916.

 photographs from their Virginia honeymoon

The two had five children-four girls and one son. My mother- the youngest-was born in 1930. George died when my mother was 13. A young man. My GranMa would live to be 107. She never considered a second marriage and her GJ provided for her until the day she breathed her last and closed her truly violet eyes. She saw much with those eyes-always seeing him- and I hope at last- after sixty years of missing him- saw him that day.

Last weekend, I laid a double wreath of magnolia at their grave. The wreaths were linked together as George and Bess were December 24 1916, ninety four years ago today.

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inheritance

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Is there a difference- Setting yourself apart ? - Setting yourself above?
What did you learn from your grandfather? One of my grandfathers- I did not know, however-from Him- I learned the lesson of A Lifetime-Mine.

I learned IT from My Mother. She- from her beloved father, G.J., died when my Mother was just 13. What lesson stayed with my lovely gifted Mother after she lost her father. I know at that moment she must have been devastated and bewildered -still a child-holding fast to those cut short moments.  What was My Inheritance, what did they give me?


When my Mother was growing up in a Southern town in the 1930's, her Father was a cotton mill executive, working with cotton mill employees daily. He rolled up his shirt sleeves- & they loved Him, and He loved them. They came to Him for Help- Advice-a Loan. Always, always He met them with Respect. Never were they less than because He had More than. He was engaged as a Father and spoke with respect of those people he worked with. His lesson- to that willing, loving child daughter: Pigtail, Set yourself apart- with your smile, your talent, your good nature, your honesty and your sense of fairness-of what is right.-but, Never above. There will be times when You will be standing alone, unpopular even- maybe, and that's when it is hardest.

The lesson was instilled, distilled really. When I was 9 years old, I had my first experience with-standing alone. A crying child in the cloak room, our classmates had driven there, into her coat for solace. She was sobbing. She had been told her clothes smelled. Yes, it was the smell of warmth-of her family's wood stove and their love. At school- at the age of 9- that warmth- family and love- were being rejected. She refused to go outside to play that day. I comforted Her-I don't know what I said-but I remember what I did, I put my coat on and took her hand and we went out together- and we played.

I think among the many happy moments of my Mother's mothering Me, this was one of her very proudest.
That Lesson, That Gift, That Inheritance. She had given it and I had reached out and held her had to take it.

I make no bones that Beauty, Art, Culture are my Loves- but there are many others.
Would that I were Rich?
Oh, but I Am. I have an inheritance and made a promise to that inheritance:

Set yourself apart, Never above.

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a birthday or 2 or 3

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I don't do a great deal of celebrating birthdays-my own or others. today I am reminded of 3 I should celebrate-

young Edith Sitwell on the 7th september

my  grandfather George Joseph Cushwa

born on this day- died three days after his 50th dinner party celebration-

failing to blow out  three of his birthday candles.

(GJC is left, as a young man, his nickname was "Dutch")

he entitled the photograph

"on the road to the asylum"- a clever and carefree young man-fearing little.

& dear friend &  impetus for little augury-

september 7,Virgo.

I do so wish I had an early photograph of SP-he would say-

god! look at all that hair, girl! I was quite a scoundrel then.

celebrate those you love every day, today I celebrate.

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