Before It's Too Late

     When I first started writing this blog the memories flowed like water, my head was full of ideas for stories and in that first year I wrote 28. Each year since then the quantity has declined, the subject matter no longer just pops into my head. Now something has to happen that will unlock a door in my memory banks and that is what has happened for this next story.
     One thing I have learned is that when some one passes away there is always regret that you didn't take the time to see the deceased one more time before they passed. There have been several instances where I wished that I had taken the time to go see some one before it was too late but I kept putting it off thinking that I will have time to do it later, turns out later never comes until it is too late. Like me, all of my relations are getting up in the years ( whether they will admit it or not ) and for some this may just be the last time I will ever see them. So last fall Kay and I went to Tennessee.
     Our first stop was to see Uncle Paul, even though Kay had met him last year at the cousins reunion she didn't really know him so we decided to spend the night at his house. It has been more than thirty years since I had been to his place, I quickly discovered that some things never change and in Uncle Paul's case I hope they never do. Uncle Paul turned 88 soon after our visit and though he says that he can't remember things as well as he used to he continues to be a gateway to the past. We got there around 5:00 Monday night and for the next seven hours it was like listening to one of those books on tape. I thought I knew him pretty well turns out he still has a lot to say.
     For instance I never remember him as a smoker but he told us that he started smoking at the age of eight and got up to four packs a day, cigarettes were only .25 per pack then. I knew he knew how to box but I had never heard the story of why he learned, it turns out that his older brother AJ used to knock him around as some older brothers would do ( not me ) so he took up boxing in school. He became quite good at boxing and after knocking AJ down he never had any more trouble with him. Back in those days before TV people had other means of entertainment one of which was boxing matches and Uncle Paul had several bouts in his youth.
     He worked in a shoe factory although not for his father, seems Grandpa wouldn't hire him because he didn't want people accusing him of favoritism. He was seventeen when I was born and used to babysit me. Then he told us about a guy who taught him to play billiards which is a game of skill, it took time but he finally won a game from his teacher who smiled told him he had no more to teach him then walked away, they never play together again. Uncle Paul continued to play other people and never lost a match.
     We took a break and walked around the outside, Uncle Paul lives in an old two story brick home built by slave labor back in the early 1800's. I used to stop by a lot back in the 70's and never knew there  was a family grave yard next to the house but there it was surrounded by an ornate wrought iron fence, the grave stones go back many generations. I learned early on that Uncle Paul was a pack rat, he never throws away anything and I soon realized his collection has increased over the years, it was almost like walking around in a museum.
     Uncle Paul is the last of my blood relatives from my parents generation, when he is gone that will make me the patriarch on Mom's side but the way things are going he may very well out live me, I would not be surprised. Live long and prosper Unc.
     One of the people we saw was my cousin Beverly, Kay had not met her and I had not seen her in at least eight or nine years, we met her for lunch at a restaurant and talked for hours. She told stories about how her dad was always trading cars and boats which would make her mother mad, that was one of the things that I was always envious of, they would come to Grandpa's house in a new car every month or so.
     Then Beverly told us the story about Frank and Jessie. Seems that when we were small children ( she is only a few months older than me ) our families lived in Gallatin, Tn. and she, my brother Pat and I played together quite often. Her Grandfather on her mothers side referred to Pat and I as Frank and Jessie, this was a reference to the famous outlaw gang of Jessie and Frank James back in the late 1800's. Seems like we were always up to something, I have to take her word for it as I don't remember, wonder which one of us was Jessie. It was good to see Beverly she is as beautiful as ever just like her mother.
     We had a gathering of cousins at Cracker Barrel in Gallatin, Sally, Madeline Ruth, Tommy, Uncle Henry and Tim were there. Once again stories of days gone by and memories of those most dear to us were told, they seem to never go out of fashion. It is almost like we tell these old stories so often just to see that we can still remember past this morning, more than likely we tell them because they reflect on a happier time where life was simpler and we miss the people we talk about.
     When the gathering broke up Kay and I went exploring, I took her on a quick tour of Gallatin, at least the Gallatin I remember which was much smaller than the one it has grown into. We then took a ride to the city of my birth and guess what it's not there anymore.
     I was born in Fountainhead, Tn. a small community on Hwy 109 just north of Gallatin. I understand that back in the 1940's it was known for it's healing waters but I don't know for sure. One thing for sure was that I was born in the sanitarium that was prominent in the community at that time. All Kay and I found was a historical marker.
     We finished our day by meeting up with Clint and Judy for dinner, as always it was nice to see them and bring each other up to date.
     We finished our tour by spending the night with Donnie Odum and his wife Wanda, Donnie and I got to talking and Kay just sat back and wondered how either of us ever made it to adulthood.
     The next day we headed home via back roads across the bottom of Tennessee.
     Families mature, the children leave home and go in different directions. Family gatherings that used to occur on a monthly basis are now dependent upon how far the children spread out, in my case that was pretty far. When the older generation ( parents / grandparents ) start to die off the children by then have families of their own, life gets busy, people move away and new generations are born, the family extends again. We become the older generation, the nucleus, that binds us together, we hold the memories of the past and want to hold on to each other. This is why we gather whenever we can and reminisce before it is too late.