Grandma Red’s only sister passed away this last week.  These two Bloxham girls, Sharon and Beth, grew up with two brothers, Pete and Buster, out on the Downey Flat during the 30s, 40s and early 50s.  The Flat is a pretty barren area, and times were not exactly flush.  There was a Depression and a World War.  However, I grew up listening to their stories that made me grateful for The Flat.  That barren landscape grew some hearty, good people.

These kids knew how to make their own fun and there was nothing shy about any of them.  Uncle Buster, my mom’s younger brother, loved to intercept mom’s letters from her boyfriends, lock himself in the bathroom which had two doors and then proceed to read the letters out loud at the top of his lungs while mom banged on the bathroom door.  This carried on for a while until in the middle of one of Buster’s monologues Grandpa came in for lunch.  When he heard what was happening, he hit the bathroom door, broke the lock, Uncle Buster flew out the other door and never read one of mom’s letters again.

Uncle Pete was mom’s older brother and protector.  According to her, he was the responsible one.  I remember staying at Grandma’s when Uncle Pete came home on leave from the service.  He had gifts for everyone. My surprise was a little drawstring purse that was filled with coins.  I’d never seen anything so wonderful in my life.  I was sleeping on the pull-out couch that night and counted my coins until I fell asleep.

Aunt Beth was a tomboy who loved to be out in the barn with the cows, horses, dogs and whatever else lived there.  Mom liked to be in the house.  She was tidy and organized from the beginning.  Beth, not so much.  They shared a room upstairs and mom could not get Beth to clean up her side.  So, one day mom gathered up all of Beth’s clothes, including her underwear, tied them to a rope, one at a time, and hung that rope out the window.  When the school bus dropped Beth off that afternoon all the kids got to see Beth’s “stuff” dangling from the second-story window at the front of the house.  Beth bounded up the stairs, pulled the rope in and never scattered her “stuff” around again. At her funeral her grandkids talked about how neat and clean she was.  Guess mom’s action paid off.

Action makes for a Good Life.  Solving your own problems teaches you to think, expressing gratitude with simple gifts endears you to others and stepping in when someone needs help builds bonds that weld families together.  These brothers and sisters were welded.  They enjoyed each other’s company, and as time went on, they provided opportunities for their posterity to mingle and do some bonding of their own.  Those strong ties have extended to the next generation.  That’s how you build families that last.  This Thanksgiving Season, I’m thankful for Pete, Sharon, Buster and Beth. They have helped me build a Good Life.