With each new generation comes new technology. My generation ushered in the home computer and a connection to the outside world via the Internet like none other before them. My children have never known a world without connectivity and are much more skilled at all the intricacies of hand held devices than I will ever be. For my grandparents’ generation however, this technology is completely foreign, so their mastery of it is exciting because it means we can remain connected in a way previously impossible.
My maternal grandparents who both in their early 90’s (hopefully I won’t get in trouble for telling their ages) are still very much a part of our lives. They reside in Florida, so I don’t get to see them often, but because my aunt was gracious enough to create a Facebook account for my grandmother, they get to enjoy all the posts of their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Plus, my grandmother actually comments on many of the posts, which always makes me smile.
Growing up a military brat with no real roots, my grandparents and their home provided a sense of stability for me. They still reside on the land purchased by my great-grandfather Rushing, a place they’ve lived my entire life, a place that feels like home to me. The road their house sits on, Rushing Road, is even named for their family.
Looking back, I see that my grandparents not only provided some constants in my childhood, but also brought a sense of family and tradition. Sundays meant Sunday school and church where everyone knew my sister and I as Becky and Warren’s granddaughters, followed by Sunday dinner of either ham or pot roast. My grandmother usually had garden fresh tomatoes, and dessert was always chocolate ice cream.
Their country home held hours of exciting adventures for my sister, my aunt (who is only four and a half years my senior) and me. We loved to play hide and go seek among the large Elephant Ears, climb trees, jump off the tire swing and anything else we could dream up. The woods surrounding the house were a great source of inspiration for our active imaginations.
Much of my extended family lives in Florida as well, so there were always afternoons spent visiting cousins, aunts, uncles, and both of my great grandmothers. Granny Rushing lived right next door so we saw her the most. Granny’s home was filled with photos of relatives I’d never known. I was always mesmerized by those portraits. We listened intently as she entertained us with tales of my grandfather.
My other great grandmother, Granny Thomson, lived in a big scary house with a claw foot tub in the kitchen. All the cousins knew we were allowed only in the living room, on the screened porch, or in the front yard. The bedrooms and upstairs were off limits. I always wondered what secrets they held. No matter though, as kids often do, we kept ourselves occupied playing whatever games the oldest cousins dictated.
My grandparent’s home has a front porch that runs the width of the house with four large rocking chairs. To this day my grandmother will sit out there, rock in her chair and just enjoy the view. At some point during every visit, we’d all end up on the porch laughing, talking, and soaking up the peaceful environment.
Their home itself is filled with treasures from a by-gone era; furniture that belonged to my great-grandparents, trinkets picked up during the travels of their younger years, baby pictures of my mother and her siblings, and even drawings in my childish scribble. Oh, and the stories to go with them. My grandfather has the backstory behind almost every item in their home. His stories hold an undiscovered part of my biography.
When my daughter graduated from high school in 2012 I took her to Florida so she could spend time with her great-grandparents. During that visit, I came to realize just where some of my stubborn tenacity originated. It brought me a great sense of comfort to know that some of who I am comes from them.
While most of us shun change, not only is it inevitable, but also our adaption to it can open new doors like my grandmother’s ability to connect via Facebook with her extended family. I for one love knowing she’s able to keep up with our lives in ways that even letters could not make happen.
I love you both dearly, cherish the memories of summer visits to Florida, and appreciate all the love and wisdom you’ve passed along.
Until Next Time,
Becky J Miller
“Warrior Princess”