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I was
very fortunate as a child to have four living grandmothers, two
grandmothers and two great grandmothers. My great
grandma Chelnessee Rutledge Owen died in 1937, but other
three filled my life with stories about
Ireland, Iowa, Missouri, Texas, Oklahoma and Arkansas.
It is unfortunate that a
child doesn't know what questions to ask grams, answers which would be so precious
to us today.
So they told me stories that kids like to
hear, about Indians, Civil War, fathers lost in battle, babies who
died; storms, tornados, hail, floods,
crops burned by drought, kinds of games they played as children and stories they
learned from playmates.
I yearn to have just one more day
with each of them, but alas, it can never be. But those beautiful memories
from carefree times now remind me most painfully how little time we
spent talking to our grandmothers. In contrast, consider
the time that we now spend looking for
information that they knew about all along.
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