A Grandfather’s Legacy
Author Joe C Comb 2nd
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011
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Dedicated to my
Grandfather Joe Preston Combs
&
My
Daughter Elizabeth
~~~
A Grandfather’s Legacy
I remember my grandfather’s funeral, with four sons, one daughter, more than thirty grandchildren and great-grandchildren it was a large affair. Quietly I made it through, almost to the very end. At the graveside, as the service was closing the minister asked if anyone would like to say anything. No answer. He asked again if anyone would like to say a few words. Again, no answer. The third time he asked, I spoke up. I knew I would ruffle a few feathers, but I said my peace. Though I saw several frowns, I was surprised to see a couple of smiles too.
Just a few years before his death, I lived with my grandfather for a month. I had just moved to Ohio after getting out of the navy and was looking for an apartment. I spent the month having breakfast at Mc Donald’s with my grandfather and listening to his stories about his grandfather.
I think my favorite story happened when his grandfather, named Joe, was almost ten years old and took a trip with his dad and grandfather, also named Joe (it’s a family thing). My grandfather had a way of telling a story that put you back in that place and time. I can still taste the dust in my mouth and hear the jingle of the harnesses on the horses.
We’re going to Mayville. I don’t usually get to on trips with daddy and grandpa but I’m almost ten. Daddy and grandpa are on the wagon seat. When I stand in the wagon behind them, I can look between them, over the horses and see the road. It’s a long trip but I’ve never been to Mayville. The sun feels good but I don’t like the dust in my mouth. Grandma made some food for us and we eat it on the way.
When we get to Mayville there is a slave auction going on. I’ve never seen a slave auction before. I stand in between daddy and grandpa. There sure are an awful lot of people here making a lot of noise. Some of the people go up and look at the slaves, feeling their muscles and looking in their mouths. They bring up a family to sell. Grandpa whispers to daddy “They ain’t no slaves. I knowed them, they’s freed people.”
They sell the dad first. A big man that runs flatboats up and down the Ohio River pays $500 for him. Then they start to sell the mama and little girl next. The little girl is a lot younger than me. Nobody bids on the mama and little girl, so grandpa bids four bits and gets them both. The other men start laughin’ at grandpa, “Joe, what do you want with that woman. She ain’t gonna be no good to ya with that little bitty girl on her hip.”
“Well ya know my wife is gettin’ pretty old” says grandpa, “and she can use a little help now and again.”
Daddy and grandpa are in a hurry to get our booty in the wagon. We head back on down to the fork in the road and daddy pulls the wagon over to the side. Daddy climbs down offen the wagon and starts adjusting the harnesses. Grandpa leans back and pulls his hat down like he’s napping.
After a while, the flat boatman comes by and takes the fork in the road heading down river. Our slaves watch the daddy slave go by crying the whole time. Daddy gets back up on the wagon and we take the other fork going up river and heading home. We don’t go far though, and make a camp.
Right after dark grandpa starts to walk back the way we come and daddy hands him his big knife. I think grandpa is up to something. Daddy and grandpa ain’t spoke since we started loading up the wagon. I wake up when grandpa gets back. I don’t know how long he’s been gone, but the moon is awful high. We get back in the wagon and start heading home again. Grandpa hands the slave woman an onion and she rubs it in her eyes.
A little after daybreak that flatboat man and a bunch of other men catch up to us and stop our horses. They’s yelling at daddy and grandpa and that slave woman is crying up a storm. They tear everything out of the wagon and leave. I thought they was gone but they come back and tear everything out of the wagon two more times before we get home. Then they come and tear up the house too.
Every night, right after dark, grandpa goes out into the woods with a crock of food grandma gives him. I’m not allowed to go. The night of the new moon grandma puts some food in a gunnysack for grandpa and he heads back into the woods with the slave woman and the little girl following him. Daddy says I can go when I get bigger. Grandpa comes back after a few days, all by his self. Then right after daddy and grandpa done all that, Lincoln up and freed all the slaves.
No matter how many times my grandfather told that story he always laughed right after that last line. He thought it was funny they went to all that trouble when all they had to do was wait a week.
What did I say at the cemetery that ruffled a few feathers? I told a story. A story about my grandfather, of course (it’s a family thing).
~~~
Joe & Elizabeth Combs
THE AUTHOR
Joe Combs served in the United States Navy from Jan 25, 1980 to Nov 8, 1988 serving aboard the USS City of Corpus Christ SSN 705 and the USS John Marshall SSN 611. Joe also spent considerable time at sea on the USS Dallas, USS Philadelphia and the USS Boston. Joe has many interests, art and writing among them he is also a certified scuba diver. Having worked in many different jobs from field hand to engineering he now works for a major automobile manufacture near Columbus, Ohio where he lives with his wife and daughter.
~~~
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