My Blog

Today my Brother and I said our final good-byes to our Mother. Along with her Sisters and Brother, Grandchildren, Nieces and Nephews, Daughters-in-law, Sister-in-law and Brothers-in-law and many cousins and friends we gathered to say good-bye. It was comforting to hear the words of Pastors Mark and Ron, and to hear the songs sung by my cousin Kristina but it was still a difficult day.

The funeral home where we gathered brought back many memories from my childhood. We lived a block away from the funeral home for most of my childhood and all of those memories came flooding back. Back then, believe or not, it was safe to roam the neighborhood on our bikes which was filled with kids. Although I had many kids to play with and pal around with, there was one special family I was close to. And many members of this family especially one, felt close to my Mother. That person reminded me of something I had completely forgotten about, the tradition of the Red Velvet Cake, baked by my Mother at Christmas time and shared with this family.

Although I was especially fond of the apple dumplings sent over to my house from time to time, the Red Velvet Cake must have made quite an impression on the little sister of my two best friends.

She let me know when I seen her at the funeral home that now she bakes a Red Velvet Cake every year at Christmas time and that my Mom’s memory lives on each year when the Red Velvet Cake is baked.

Way to go Mom. Your Red Velvet Cake lives on.      

Every now and then, when I was in grade school, we would pack up the car and head south to a little town in Meigs County Ohio called Pomeroy. The Joneses were from this little river town along the Ohio river.  It was here I remember visiting my uncle Pat and aunt Clara.

It was always in the summertime when I remember visiting them. As the car would wind through the hills of southern Ohio, it seemed to me like these hills were mountains. The rocks were different shades of tan, brown and rust colors, and there were signs constantly warning of falling rock. Getting there was exciting to me, as it was with probably any kid my age when taking the car on a vacation. Parents always wanted to get to the destination as fast as possible and the kids always did not care if it took a week to get someplace.

Their house was neat. It wasn’t much to look at but the location was something special. In Pomeroy as I remember there were 2 main streets. The businesses were on Main St which were level with the Ohio River and residential houses with views of the river were on Second St. looking out over the roofs of the businesses onto the majestic Ohio River. I’m sure things have changed but to this day I long to just sit out on that front porch and just watch the river traffic go by.

The other memory I have of these visits is of the rabbit cages in the back of the house. For some reason Alpha Clay Jones (Pat) raised rabbits. I am not sure if he just loved rabbits as pets or if he and aunt Clara had an occasional rabbit stew for supper. Whichever the case, I loved to go out back and see the rabbits. Come to think of it, there may be some substance to the thought of that rabbit stew since I remember an incident regarding my pet chicken ‘Mike’ and a certain Harvey Garfield Jones (my great-grandfather) and uncle Pat’s brother. One night we had a delicious chicken dinner and Mike was never seen again. Maybe it’s a Jones family tradition to occasionally dine on one of your pets.

Anyway, thanks for the memories uncle Pat and aunt Clara, where ever you are.

As I get older, I am surprised that I can still remember certain things from my childhood. I don’t think I could remember as much as I do if I had experienced an unhappy childhood.

Also, back in the 1950′s, there were more extended families. You not only had a Mom and Dad, and maybe some siblings staying at your house, but you probably had grandparents, aunts and uncles under the same roof. Maybe not for all of your life, but from time to time some stayed during their last years or until they could get out on their own. Whatever the reason, certain members of my extended family made an impression on me, some in a brief amount of time I knew them.

Enter Harvey Garfield Jones, my Great-Grandfather.

Although I was just 4 and 5 years old, I still can remember those warm summer mornings with the sun warming my head holding his hand as we walked to West Broad St to visit one of the many drugstores and soda fountains. In my neighborhood there was a at least one drugstore on every city block on West Broad. Our favorite was a place called Georgeton’s (I think that was the name) for an ice cream cone.

If it wasn’t the walks, it was just sitting in the backyard after breakfast that I remember. Being close to West High school, you could hear the band practice and just watch cars go by out front if you picked the right spot by the side fence.

Then who could forget tagging along with him as he puttered in the garage doing absolutely nothing except maybe sharpening some tools and making sure everything was in its place in the drawer that weighed a ton under the bench.

Then my world changed on January 9th, 1954.  After watching wrestling (he enjoyed watching wrestling on TV) he went out for some fresh air and while sitting on the front porch steps my grandfather fell back after suffering a heart attack.

Although I just knew him for a few short years the memories live within me.

Where have all the Harvey Garfield Jones’ gone?