Sunday, November 28, 2010

Inherent beauty fading away...

It’s hard on a once-extremely independent and self-sufficient person when they realize they can’t get around or do as much as they once could and Pop-Pop is definitely no exception. When Mom-Mom became sick years ago, Pop-Pop retired at the age of 86 from working six days a week as a carpenter to take care of her. Years of less activity and increasing age resulted in him moving silently from independence to dependence. By the time Mom-Mom passed away, Pop-Pop was the second victim of her illness. Don’t get me wrong - he never regretted it one bit. Yet, permanently losing his independence was a hard pill for a once-proud carpenter to swallow.

Now unable to drive to a restaurant or hardware store like he once could, he now has to ask relatives to do household maintenance and chores he once enjoyed doing himself.

There are signs throughout the house he built for Mom-Mom of his trade- things that those who know and love him recognize with fondness and love. There is an old wooden shed he built in the backyard for garden tools and storing wood that's probably the only shed in the neighborhood with a crystal doorknob. The house’s wood window shutters have ornate iron hold-backs and still function to this day. Things like those abound around the house for those who take the time to notice. Although not as perfect as they once were, they still function and hold an inherent beauty not found in modern construction. It reminds me of Pop-Pop himself.

He may ask me and others to do chores he used to do, but that’s okay by me. I tell him he’s the house foreman now and know that many weekends I will arrive to a list of items of tasks. When he tells me how much it bothers him, I remind Pop-Pop that years ago, he was the young buck other people in his position had to ask – it’s a natural progression of life. Some chores are important and others not as much. Whether changing the batteries in the smoke detectors or cutting the grass, it’s important to me because I know it’s important to Pop-Pop.

Sometimes I think elderly relatives always seem to have something they need done is because they fear without them, the people they ask help from may stop coming around. Funny thing is that I go to Pop-Pop’s every weekend is because I love and enjoy him so much. My fear is that, at 93 with slowly failing health, I’m quickly losing what time I have left to spend with him… and I bet my fear outweighs his.

Why do I bring this up? People tend to get wrapped up in the petty stuff in life while what matters most slowly fades away. Like the crystal doorknob on the shed in his back yard, Pop-Pop has beauty in the stories he shares that I enjoy tremendously.

Time may be taking its toll on the outside, but if you look close enough…  

On the farm during the depression

Pop-Pop was born in 1917; the year modern zippers were invented and two years before the first electric toaster. His dad, Timothy Futty (see picture) was a farmer in North East Maryland when farming was a tough life.
Pop-Pop’s mom died from a heat stroke while whitewashing a farm fence when he was very young. Sadly, his main memory of his mom was the ride in the pickup truck taking his mom to the hospital after her stroke and the subsequent wake held in their house before she was buried – it scared him having his mom’s casket in the house during those days.
Timothy Futty
I always wondered where Pop-Pop found such acceptance and love of African Americans during a generation where most whites didn’t share that sentiment and found it was because of a woman named Tilly. After Pop-Pop’s mom died, his dad hired Tilly, African American woman who lived with them to take care of the house and seven children. When I say “hired,” that was a temporary condition. Although Tilly continued to be paid, she became the children’s second mom. Pop-Pop’s dad told Tilly that she had full reign to discipline the children whenever they needed it and, from what Pop-Pop says, she didn’t shy away from that right!
Taking care of seven children in any circumstance is tough, but during the depression, it was brutal. They ate from the crops and livestock on the farm. Pop-Pop told me there were stretches where bean soup, milk and water were the entire menu for dinner. (At least that finally explained Pop-Pop’s fondness for baked beans on his pancakes) The children grew up loving Tilly stayed in the house, ate at the table with them and, in the truest sense of the meaning, became part of the family.
When the farm was lost later during the depression and Timothy Futty packed the kids up and moved to Delaware to find work, Tilly remained back in North East Maryland with her family. Over the years, contact with her was lost, although she would never be forgotten…
Today, many people have it tough, but think about farm living during the depression.  
No electricity or indoor plumbing.
Farm work that started before sunrise so the children could finish thier work and still get to school on time.

Walking two miles to school regardless of the weather.
You ate what you grew. A bad year on the farm meant less to eat.
Seven children and one bicycle.
Clothes sewn from onion-cloth previously used to bag seeds.

The children's Christmas presents consisted of an orange, some nuts and two pieces of candy on a plate.

When you couldn't provide for your family, you had to move to where the work was or starve.
No welfare, unemployment, or other government support systems.
Do we really have it that bad now?

Reminders of love

To say losing the love of your life after 70 years of marriage is tough would be a gross understatement. Almost two years after her death, Pop-Pop still dreams about Mom-Mom almost every night. He misses her badly and many of the things Pop-Pop asks me to do around the house every weekend are things Mom-Mom used to do.

Pop-Pop has a lamp post in his front yard with a pole for a small flag on it. Mom-Mom used to put different flags on it throughout the year and, after Mom-Mom passed away, I noticed there wasn't one. On the way up to the house one weekend, I stopped where my Mom-Mom used to buy her flags, purchased one that had flowers (Mom-Mom's passion in life) on it and put it up when I arrived.

After I put it on the pole, Pop-Pop thanked me, telling me that he really liked seeing a flag there again. I told him I was glad he liked it, but I really put it up there for Mom-Mom. With tears in his eyes, Pop-Pop said that it was one of the many things he missed about her.

It's amazing what a $10 flag and five minutes putting it up can do for somebody like Pop-Pop. It wasn't just a flag anymore... it was a memory of Mom-Mom living on. It was a reminder every time he looked out his front window that she was still a part of his life.

Eventually, time took its toll on that flag. Faded and torn from the elements, it didn't live up to Mom-Mom's standards anymore and my Aunt Arlene told me that Pop-Pop wanted to get it replaced. On my way in yesterday, I picked up another flag, this time with poinsettias on it for winter that was setting in. He loved it and gave me the ultimate compliment - "That's a flag your Mom-Mom would have put up!" and continued to make several other remarks about how much he liked the flag throughout the day.

If you're reading this, I challenge you to find opportunities to make a difference in somebody's life through a small and inexpensive act of kindness. Do you know an elderly relative or other person that could use simple reminders that somebody cares?

Find them and let them know they mean something.

Let them know they are loved.

Welcome to weekends with Pop Pop Futty!

 My Mom-Mom Futty (Sara "Sally" Futty) died in December of 2008 after several years of illness, leaving my Pop-Pop to go on without the "girl of his" he eloped with 70 years before...

Pop-Pop in his chair by the front window
I visit Pop-Pop (Curtis Futty Sr.) every weekend possible and, over the course of the past two years, have learned about our family history, US history, and one of the greatest love stories you could imagine.

It's bothered me for a while now that so much information will be lost... so much heritage will fade into the winds of time... that I decided to share my visits for family or anybody else who would like to read the stories that have unfolded during my visits and the story of a great man who, in the words of Billy Graham, is living the autumn of his life.

Welcome to my Pop-Pop's house.