Winter Comes for the Young and the Wise

      Thelma Leona Rule Botkin.  And William Franklin Botkin, known all of his life as Frank.  They were my Mom's folks, and I knew them as Granny and Grandaddy.  I had lost my Grandma and Grandpa Smith in 1948 and 1957, but Granny and Grandaddy lived much longer, a blessing that all of us enjoyed.   My regrets came later, when I realized I could have given them much more as an adult grandson.

      They were married in 1923 in Charleston, West Virginia.  In the midst of the Depression era, they had three children, Virginia, my Mom, born in 1924, then my uncles Eddie and John (Jake), born in 1926 and 1928.  The hard times meant losing one job and taking another.  Or moving from one house to another, many times living with other family members.

the young hunter

      But, by the time I was a boy, economic times had improved after World War II was over, and Granny and Grandaddy were living in the only house I ever knew them to be in.   I have a lot of wonderful memories of spending holidays or extended periods of summertime at their homestead on 925 Mason Avenue in Charleston, West Virginia.   We were always excited to go, and always wanted to stay just a bit longer. There were multiple railroad tracks just across the street, and we were usually awakened every morning by the heavy "clunk" of the railcar couplings as the locomotive began to pull away.   It's a nostalgic sound that I can still hear in my memory.  Grandaddy took us on fishing trips.  Granny somehow kept the cookie jar full,  and always knew what we liked to eat and drink.  Backyard play was probably not much different than it was at home, but it seemed more fun. The attic was full of old books, and that was always a good place for me.   The cute girl next door, Melissa Sharp, seemed to get cuter every year, and by the time she had truly blossomed, our summer trips to Charleston had stopped because Little League baseball and other activities kept us home-bound.  If that hadn't happened, I just might have asked her to marry me.  But at 14, it was probably best that I concentrated on learning to play left field.

Granny at about 55 years of age 

 





  Then, it seemed, the speed of life increased. And there were no more trips to Charleston.   My summers were spent working hard at Cannon Lumber Company, a business  my Grandpa Smith had built up over time.  (When he died, my Dad and Uncle Red purchased the business, and set about trying to make it a success.)  Then, there were 4 years of high school, 4 years of college, marriage,  beginning my teaching career 100 miles northwest of Columbus in a little town named Lafayette.  And, of course, starting our own family.

     In addition, life had become complicated for my dear Granny and Grandaddy.  After 37 years of marriage, the last 10 of those plagued by much pain and heartache, they divorced.  She moved to Columbus to be nearer my Mom.

    Now I can use all of that as an excuse why I just didn't have time to nurture a relationship with either one of them.  But had I been more sensitive and mature,  I really believe I could have eased their days.

     Grandaddy died in 1972 in Melbourne, Florida, after struggling with liver cancer.  Granny lived until 1994, and passed away in Conroe, Texas, essentially living the last 8 years of her life in the clutches of Alzheimer's disease.  I had an opportunity to visit her in Conroe.   I believe it was 1988 or 1989, when I had traveled to Houston on a business trip.    Of course, I'd been warned she wouldn't know me.  But I refused to believe it.  She had so many funny stories that she liked to tell about me, that I was certain I would be able to spark her memory with one of those.  That she would get that big grin on her face, throw her head back, and just squeal with laughter......

     But not once, was there a light in her eyes.   I left depressed, and I think a bit angry with myself for not giving her more of me over the years.  There will always be what seem like good reasons why we don't give our elderly grandparents or great-grandparents the loving, timely touch they richly deserve.

Frank and Thelma...young and in love

     When I was young, I don't think it ever occurred to me that my grandparents had been young once.  Somehow, they had been born older and just got even older from there.  So they didn't understand what it was like to be a small boy....or a teen-ager.  Or to fall in love.  They just knew all about old things.  And I didn't need to know anything about old things.  Because I was never going to get old.   Well, you might look at things differently if you can find a photo of your Grandfather at the age of 18, looking at your Grandma with that look.  And, just maybe, she's staring at him with a look of her own.  But if you can't find a photo, take my word for it.  Your Granny and Grandaddy were teenagers once.  And I doubt if they've forgotten just how wonderful and impatient of a time it can be.   Do yourself a favor and try asking them.

September 12, 1952 postmark

Letter I wrote early in 1st grade