I am one of those people that fall somewhere in the middle. Now on my mother's side, we know that her fathers (Both the one that raised her and the one that is her biological; they were brothers. Don't even try to understand) were from a family with 8 living children Dunno how many didn't survive or were stillborn. Aside from my biological Maternal Grandfather's children (Poppa was a rolling stone where) we know where all of their families are more or less. We know where My great Grandmother and Great Grandfather are from. I think their parents (my great greats) were slaves so that's pretty much where that buck stops. My mother's biological mother was from South Carolina. She had brothers and sisters and they are all deceased I think. The only other part of my knowledge about My Grandmother Grace is that she had two brother named Murray and Bubba. I remember thinking that this was extremely funny when I was a child. The grandmother that raised my mother (Seriously, I warned you not to try... just listen to the pretty banjos duel) I know very little about other than her mother was full blooded Native American. I'm not worried about finding out about that side of my family however because almost literally 15+ members of that side of Facebook popped up on Facebook within a week or more of each other so if I ever need to know, I can ask any one of them. We're tight like that.
Where I run into problems is with my fathers side of the family. Quite literally it is nothing but a series of dead ends.
First off, no one has any idea whatsoever who my father's father is. They said that my grandmother was a big wig around town (And a little loose) so she could not be unmarried with a baby. From everything I was told, she went over her best friends house, had the baby, and walked away. But not before naming him. Again from everything I was told, she had a friend who was in the Navy who was named Kerry Wilson and he told her to give the baby his name. Now I'm pretty sure that if this is true, the man meant just the last name. I'm pretty sure that if the baby wasn't his (Which we don't actually know that it wasn't) he didn't mean for my grandmother to name the baby Kerry Wilson Jr. If he was sane, I'm pretty definite that he did not mean to pull out of Lake Charles and leave a child named directly after him behind. And maybe he did. As far as I know, we may never know.
So there's a brick wall. Pretty sure that brick wall may be there after even my kids grow old and die. The other side of this very tall, very claustrophobic brick room I find myself in is that any and every single trace there ever was about my grandmother has completely disappeared. This year will make 22 years since she passed away, I think. They say that I went to her funeral when I was 3. That means 22 years since I turn 35 this year. From what we know (meaning what my father knows) she was a principal in Lake Charles, Louisiana. Someone once told me that there was a statue of her there.
But here's the thing, The two schools that we have down that she was a principal; one no longer exists and the other said they have never had a Pharrie Mae as a principal. I even called the Lake Charles Parish School board. No one ever got back to me but I doubt they have her on their rolls either. The church she supposedly went to: building is there, no one ever picks up the phone. Not sure if they are in existence anymore. No clue where she is burried, no clue where her house was, There are more leads in the first three seconds of a game of CLUE than there are to finding my Paternal Grandparents.
It's mind boggling. I look like my father so the genes are definitely strong. I have pictures of Pharrie Mae so I know that whoever the man is, my father has GOT to be a dead ringer for the man. He does not in any way look like his mother.
This is Pharrie Mae holding me when I was a baby:
And this is my father when he was younger...:
Okay, maybe he has her cheeks but that ALL I see...
Do you have any idea how frustrating is it not to know where half of you comes from? To think daily that somewhere out there, there may be a whole slew of people that look like you, talk like you, act like you...? No matter what I do if they are out there, they seem to always be behind that fuzzy fuzzy screen of grey smoke and I can't reach through it to find them.
And before anyone suggests Ancestry.com, been there. Tried that. Total bomb. And a complete waste of the two hundred I spent. The first hundred being for the first month and the second hundred because I forgot to cancel the damn thing on time...
I may try again one day. Well, no, there's no may. I have all but decided that if I have to take a trip down to Lake Charles, Louisiana myself and search I'm going to find her. I will search out every school, I will peruse every graveyard, and I will look at every statue. Pharrie Mae Washington has had to have left SOME traces behind. She cannot just wash away that cleanly.
I've had my rant for the day I guess. I'm going to step down from my soapbox...
It's very easy to say Stay Frosty here cause it's friggen cold today so I'm going to leave you with I hope you are warm and toasty wherever you are. Hugs!
