Thursday July 29, 2021 Two Stories. One Theme.

 

 

                                                            Nature and Nurture


    I was interested in two stories that I found in the Reynolds history book about my paternal grandfather Charles Reynolds, who died before I was born, and my uncle Fred, one of his oldest sons. Grandpa was described as an alcoholic terror who could flip-flop at will; whereas Fred, did not drink, and whom I knew as a kindly elderly man. 

    Shirley, an older cousin of mine, had invested hundreds of hours compiling ancestral information before the invention of personal computers. She made tape recordings of multi-generational interviews, then transcribed them using a typewriter. Not all of the ten children, seven boys, three girls, were alive by the time of the interviews; sadly, many of those remaining were too old by then to remember much of their childhood, except my father, the youngest son, who described his father plainly,
   “Pops would rather fight than eat.”

    And so it was that my Grandpa was a terror when he got drunk, which was frequent; the kids had no respite from his use of a barber strop when he decided it was necessary. Dad said, “Pops was the kindest man when he was sober, but the [devil] when he was drunk. You stayed out of his way.” Grandma was abused too, until the boys were old enough to defend her from him. 

    Born and raised in Hagerstown, Maryland, in the late 19th and early 20th Centuries, family pride in physical strength and fighting ability was the norm. It was all about control and power, and the fact they all took immense pride in their work.

    A son of freight hauler who drove teams of horses pulling freight wagons through the Appalachian Mountains, before the Civil War, Grandpa Charlie’s word was his bond; if he said he was going to do something, he did it; he worked various jobs all his life beginning at a very young age. He worked on the railroad for years; was a cop in Hagerstown, briefly, (as his temper often got him in trouble); and he farmed throughout his life in Illinois and Iowa, never staying in one place too long.

    So it was, I was surprised to find these two gems of public conduct toward Black people/African-Americans, that underscored for me that racism, at least in these two instances, didn't hold sway in this dysfunctional family.

    My Uncle Diebert told the story of his Pops visiting him in the hospital in Baltimore, when a Black man walking past Diebert’s room, recognized Grandpa.

    Pausing in the doorway, the man said, "Hello, mistuh Charlie.”  

    Pops said, “I don’t know you.”

    ”Yes, you do, mistuh. Charlie,” said the man. “Don’t you remember when you fired me for not sighting that rail?”

    Grandpa thought a long moment, then said, “Yes, yes, I remember now.”

    Turning to the man, he went on to explain to Diebert, “We were putting in a new electric trolley line from Hagerstown to Williamsport, and I told him, “Get down and sight that rail."

    He jumped down in the trench, then jumped right back out, sayin’, “That rail’s hot!"

    I said, “You’re crazy! Now get back down there and sight that rail!”

    And he said, “No suh! That line 's hot!”

    I told him, ”Go give your time!” So I decided to do it myself.

    I got down to sight the rail, and it bit me hard.

    Scrambling out of the trench, I hollered at him, “Hey! Come back here! You was right!”

    The man had never forgotten Grandpa’s admission that he had been wrong. Another White man in that position may have never admitted it; so it makes me think Grandpa was not always about holding power. He had a little humility in him that he wasn't afraid to show in public.

    

    The other story was of Fred, Grandpa's second oldest son, and Fred's son, Freddie. They had gone to the License Bureau in Des Moines, when a Black man climbed out of a trench where he had been working, and said, “Mr. Reynolds, Mr. Reynolds,” to get Fred's attention, and then extending his hand, shook Fred’s hand. The two exchanged pleasantries and parted.

    Freddie asked Fred what that was all about, and Fred said the Black man had been passed over for a job that he was qualified for, and he had stood up for the man, but it didn’t do any good.

   Racism is nurtured, but so is compassion for one another as fellow human beings no matter the color of their skin. These two instances suggest Grandpa Charles (and Grandma Sarah Ann Louise Barnhart) passed the latter down to their kids, and not the former.