TheBanyanTree: Good Stock

[april.buffaloe at earthlink.net]

What I knew.

I knew this trip would be hard, that's just the way it is. I expected the travel fatigue, the difficulty in maneuvering two eighty-somethings in and out of a too small vehicle, even the weary bitchiness that the previous things evoke from me. But, I was not prepared for the emotional ripping this trip had in store for me. 

Papa. Man of God. Admirable. Always looks sharp. Respectable. Never met a stranger. Upright.  Solid. Highly regarded. Good man. Does the right thing.  Had a third grade education and managed to be a corporate officer in, what was then, the nations' largest corporation. A mason. Remarkable. Well loved. Reverent. Never ate a meal that wasn't blessed. Said a prayer of thanks every night for a warm bed.

My mothers' father, who we lovingly call "Papa", is finally, actually, getting old. An early Christmas present this time around, we coudn't have given him anything he would love more. I've taken this trip from North Carolina to south Georgia before, and many like it. Best I can recall, I was sixteen the first time I made this trip.... taking Papa down to South Carolina and Georgia for him to visit those remaining of his seven siblings. I believe it was on that first trip that Papa made reference to the fact that he was pretty sure he had another brother.... but he had never been able to find him. Naive and a bit precocious, I questioned "How would you not be able to find him, Papa?" Thinking, but not saying... of course you know if you have another brother, why wouldn't you?

Now, ten years later, I had forgotten about this conversation. While taking little pig paths through Georgia (which he recalls with uncanny accuracy) my mind tripped over the question again. Wasn't there another brother? Sitting in the backseat with Mrs. Ethel (Papa's current wife) while my cousin maneuvered the car on the windy two lane roads, I dug though my memories. I raffled through the conversations, the various trips jumbling together into a large mass.......... another brother...why didn't he know for sure.... how would they have been separated?

Later that evening, safe in the motel room, I found that mine was not the only mind that had taken that path. My cousin started to ask similar questions of me- thinking that since I'm older I'd know more about it. Together we pieced together the puzzle of Papa's family with many large blanks. Separated from his brothers and sisters at a young age. Ran away from his foster? family to go live with the Carnes' (my "Nanny's") family. Married Nanny (Julia Mae) at age 17. Most of this information had come from Nanny or Papa, but was strung out through so many small snippets of conversation over the years. We both knew there was more to the story, but both also remembered that there was something about this that was secretive, but couldn't remember why. 

Answers.

Sold. My Papa was sold at, or about, age seven to a man for money. He was sold to work on a farm. Papa was seven years old and not allowed to sleep in the house- even in the winters. He was treated poorly, not given shoes- even in the winters. He was not fed properly. Finally, at age 13, he asked Mr. Carnes if he could come live with him. Mr Carnes agreed and took Papa to get a haircut (evidently it was halfway down his back- which is unthinkable- if you knew the man). Papa worked with Mr. Carnes and his family and eventually married Julia Mae one of the girls in the Carnes family. 

Evidently, several of Papa's brothers and sisters were "placed" in other homes. Eventually Papa found them all again... except for one. Best they can figure, the missing brother was sold to a family who may have adopted him or changed his name. 

Papa eventually became quite successful and would often travel the southeast for business. He never once went through that part of Georgia without stopping to see his "mother". The woman who sold him for money. He took her gifts, he brought his family to visit her. He was good to her.

Astounded.

After piecing this puzzle together with a little help from our moms, my cousin and I sat there outraged. Sold?!? Who would do that? Who could sell a seven year old boy.... and others? What man could go back later and be kind to the mother that had sold him? We both cried a little then and assured ourselves of the answer. 

My Papa could do that.


april.buffaloe at earthlink.net
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