Tuesday's
{this moment} depicts July of 1955 in Grand Cane, Louisiana, a small town of about 400 but down from its greatest population of 500. Today there are fewer than 200 residents.
The man on the left in the photo was the Methodist preacher in Grand Cane, Thomas O. Rorie, Jr. - my maternal grandfather and namesake. The lady on the other end is Amy Galloway Rorie, my grandmother.
In between them? Ah, well. I'm the head closest to my grandmother, and my older brother is immediately to my right in the back row. The other three boys are my only true first cousins - sons of my mother's brother, K. Glen Rorie who was also a Methodist minister and my other namesake.
My grandparents and uncle are long gone, but my cousins all live in Texas. The cousins are (l to r): Kenny (my age and 7), Douglas (the youngest), and Tommy (my brother's age, 11). Note the cowboy boots on Kenny. He and I still email each other and manage to get together every few years. I see the others only if I'm in Dallas.
Kenny has two daughters, as do I. His older daughter Amy is a few months older than my daughter Amy, and his younger daughter Megan is a few months older than my daughter Megan. We weren't in touch back then, so how about that for coincidence! I didn't even know he had daughters, much less what their names were, until we reconnected at my grandmother's funeral.
I remember starting second grade in Grand Cane. I spent about two months in one room that had three grades in it before moving on to Hutchinson, Kansas.
When I look at that car, I remember almost falling out as my grandfather drove back from a nearby dairy. I hung on to the top of the door as it swung open and scraping my shoes on the road until my grandfather came to a stop. What I don't remember is if he ever got the courage to tell my mother about it. What was I thinking?!
As I look at this photo, it seems so long ago, but we boys sure could have some fun. The world was much simpler then. Safer too, but as much as I treasure my memories of the late 1950s, I prefer the present. If time travel were possible though, I’d jump at the chance to visit. What would be most special would be the opportunity to talk as an adult with my grandparents. That would be an incredible gift.
How about you? Care to visit the past?
TGB
Copyright © 2007 Amy Elizabeth Brown. Used with permission.
Tuesday's {this moment} depicts July of 1955 in Grand Cane, Louisiana, a small town of about 400 but down from its greatest population of 500. Today there are fewer than 200 residents.
She walked up to the bartender and asked, "May I please use the restroom?" The bartender replied, "Okay, but I should warn you that there is a statue of a naked man in there, and he's wearing nothing but a fig leaf."
Last week I published a post Thanks, Janine which did just that for Janine Ripper of Reflections from a Red Head, one of my favorite blogs, who bestowed the Kreativ Blogger Award upon me. It came with conditions though. I was to pass it on to ten bloggers, notify them, and then reveal ten things about myself that most folks might not know. I actually think ten of each is too much although I managed it (see the original post). Six or seven is more reasonable.
I’m a fairly content fellow. My physical disabilities are in many ways far less challenging than those of others, but there are a few things that never fail to get my knickers in a twist. For example, some folks can’t stand the fact that others with disabilities get to park closer to where they are going than they do. I call this kind of attitude a leading indicator because if people are still that insensitive to disability issues, there remains much to be done to secure the civil rights of those whose independence is persistently challenged.
Nevertheless, we are still accused of not proceeding “correctly.” Come on! We’re not setting fires; we’re not rioting. We are simply fighting by their rules and winning - not every time, but it is getting better. The opposition, however, doesn’t like to lose - especially to a bunch of disabled people. So you and I and everyone else who cares needs to stay the course. We are well into our journey, but the destination is not yet in sight.