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Showing posts with label death gives sanctity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death gives sanctity. Show all posts

Saturday, December 10, 2022

People who went before you

 The pillar is still readable, in its own way.  Who was there and what they were is still a possibility.This group was from the Shive family, from all sorts of places and people.

This was Janie C.--she traveled to Oregon in a covered wagon, hated it, came home. So I have been told. At one time, her father wanted her to win an election, so he handed a bunch of money for her to throw from the Ferris wheel. Did she win, probably not.

It is said that death bestows gifts upon all.  I won’t try to name them, but the one I like is: Death washes the past and gives sanctity to the dead.

Julia, Nora, Bessie, and ?

At least, so I thought.  Recently I visited my favorite and remaining Aunt Vada in Macon, Missouri.  It was the first week of October, with all the beauty of fall giving glimpses of what colors were to come.  We visited non-stop, words filling the air.  Aunt Vada is a gifted writer, with a way of placing words exactly where they need to be. 
 
James W. Shive, died at age 3 years, 3 months, and 16 days.

One of our days involved traveling to my mother’s hometown, across the Mississippi River into Pike County, Illinois. 

We visited Crescent Heights Cemetery high on the bluffs in Pleasant Hill, IL, where Mom’s parents and relatives were buried.  Each time I have been there, I vowed that this place has the most incredible view of any cemetery.  

It is also the only place I can get cell phone coverage in the whole of Pike County.

We stood silently over Grandma and Grandpa’s graves, and then examined a family pillar on which Grandma’s side of the family were recorded.  I have seen that thing hundreds of times over my life there, but I never knew.  I never knew the stories that Aunt Vada shared with me.

My grandparents

Oh. Really?  No, not back then…  Those were my words and reactions as she touched each name and told the highlights of some very rowdy, randy, and raunchy ancestors. 
 
Martin Van Buren Shive, patriarch with the names of his children carved on all sides of the monument.  Lots of children. He was a veteran of the Civil War. He came home after a few years, having been injured drastically.

 Moonshiners, fornicators, adulterers, underhanded politicians, swindlers—they broke every sin listed in the Bible. I heard the stories from my Grandma Cardiff. 

I tell you, check out your ancestors while you still have relatives who know the whole story about them.  And, it might be a good idea to look at your own life, since someday you’ll be the ancestor about whom stories will be told. 
 
 Posted in 2016. Grandpa Cardiff was born in 1892, Grandma was born in 1901.