Monday, January 25, 2021

I just realized

I just realized today that I don't know how my parents met.

I should know that, shouldn't I?

But I don't.

He was a farm boy with an eighth grade education from Monroe County and she was a school teacher from McDowell County.

He did go to McDowell to work in the mines, so they must have met there--but I have no idea how.

He grew up on a turkey farm and was told from childhood that only stupid people in the city ate turkey. So when he was in a boarding house in the mine fields, he tasted turkey for the first time. He wouldn't believe it was turkey until the land-lady took him into the kitchen and showed him the carcass.

I know that but I don't know how he met my mother.

My mother grew up dirt poor. She wore rain boots to school one year because the family couldn't afford shoes for all 7 of their children (two of whom died in childhood).

Yet she and two of her sisters, Elsie and Georgie, all earned master's degrees (Elsie a doctorate) and taught school all their working lives. Elsie even taught in college for a few years.

I know all that but don't know how Virgil met Cleo.

I'll ask my cousin Mejol when I talk to her this week to see if she knows.

I'd love to know and don't know why I don't.  link to my video blog.


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About Me

some ponderings by an aging white man who is an Episcopal priest in Connecticut. Now retired but still working and still wondering what it all means...all of it.