Orphaned at the age of nine, he, his younger brother, and his youngest sibling, a sister, were forced to live with an older half-sister and her husband. Monroe, as he was called, and his six-year-old brother Joe were forced to work on the half-sister’s farm and not allowed to go to school. They were likely used to this since Monroe had never attended school one day in his life, and his father had used the boys as farm labor as well.
The year was 1895 when many of not most Americans lived in difficult circumstances, especially those trying to make a living on small farms. Orphaned children were often given a place to live and food to eat but not given love and the nurturing children crave and need. Tough times were all Monroe and Joe knew, and even their little sister Isabel, who was allowed to go to school when she was old enough, was forced to do work around the home that would be viewed as child neglect or abuse today.
Farming was what Monroe knew, and by the time he met and married Ada, his livelihood was a sharecropper. He was able to take a break from the grueling work to drive a coal truck until the Depression caused him to lose his job and he was forced to farm once more as a sharecropper again. He didn’t have the money to buy his own land.
Ada read the Bible to him. She insisted they go to church, and he listened to what the preachers had to say. She taught him to make his mark for official papers. He became a faithful Christian, but he was never able to read the Bible for himself.
Time marched on. Ten children, nine of whom lived, were born. Three daughters died as young adults, within 18 months of each other. Monroe and Ada sent their three sons off to the Army during World War 2, two of which only served stateside and one who saw battles in Europe and the Pacific.
They eventually moved off the farm when Monroe’s health prevented him from doing the hard labor of farm work. They no longer attended the country church the family had attended for years and instead attended the “big church” in the small town.
One Sunday, in an adult class, the teacher asked Monroe to read a passage from the Bible. Monroe, with his usual honesty, replied, “I don’t know how to read.” To which the teacher said, “Don’t know how to read? There’s no excuse for that in today’s world.”
This was the early 1950s.
That kind of remark would have caused many to stop attending that church. Not Monroe. Somehow he was able to forgive the man’s ignorance and to continue practicing his Christian faith.
Monroe died of heart failure in 1955. I never knew him, but my dad told me stories like this one about my grandfather. I was and am still shocked by the insensitivity of that Bible class teacher, but I was and am proud of a man I never knew who didn’t allow his pride to stop him from doing what he believed to be right.
Over the years, I have questioned his own parenting since some of the stories Dad told me weren’t so positive, No, he wasn’t abusive in the physical sense, but he expected my dad to do his share on the farm, even if he were burning up with a fever. He forced my dad to quit school at the age of fifteen because the brothers had gone off to the Army, something that haunted Dad until the day he died. As a matter of fact, shortly before he lapsed into an unconscious state, Dad (in his confusion) looked at me and asked, “I wonder why Pap made me quit school.”
I think I know why. He saw Dad as being educated enough. He needed his help on the farm. Dad knew how to read, write, and do arithmetic, all things my grandfather never learned to do. He never received kindness and nurturing, so he didn’t know how to do that himself. Hard times ruled his life.
So, before I find fault with him for the choices he made, I have to understand that he was who he was because of his upbringing. I choose to see the positives in the person he was. Mom told me he was always kind to her and a lot of fun.
Not everyone has the great childhood or beginnings in life that prepare them for future success. Some overcome those obstacles and hardships. Some never do. And while my grandfather did not see financial success, his success was in the children that grew up to be hard-working adults who raised their own children the best they knew how.
It is ironic to me that a man who never learned to read would have a granddaughter who devoured books from the time she learned. Books opened my world to places I couldn’t go. With books, I was a detective (Nancy Drew), a horse owner,(all kinds of horse books), an athlete (reading biographies of people like Babe Didrikson), or a member of a family with lots of siblings (Little Women, The Five Little Peppers). I “lived” in places like Hawaii and New York. I flew with an umblrella (Mary Poppins) and flew with PeterPan.
These days I experience life in German-occupied France or Mississippi during the Depression or enjoying friendships in a little town called Golden. Some of you know what books I’m referring to,
Ironic, too, that the vision loss has taken away from me the ability to, as some of you say, “hold the book and turn the pages,) but I’m grateful for audiobooks so I an continue to indulge in my love–no, my passion–for reading.
The granddaughter of a man who couldn’t read. How ironic.
