It seems to be the trend this year with all of us here on BYC. I just checked the messages on the phone to discover yet another member of my family has passed away. Though he was an old man who lived a very full life and has been ill for quite a few years now, my grandfather will be upset for a few days or longer I am sure. In the last couple of years I have lost my stepdad, my grandmother, all but one great grandparent, my great great uncle, my dad, and now most recently my grandfather's cousin's husband has passed on too. They were married for over 50 years. They grew up together, that whole side of the family. In rural South Carolina. I didn't know Boyce well but he was family. He and Rannie lived in Batesburg-Leesville all of Rannie's life atleast. All the families used to own properties in the same vicinity. I can only imagine what it was like back then. My grandfather says for fun they would tie a string on a bee and it would fly around like a flying dog on a leash, haha. I am only 23 years old and times are much different now but I have heard a many a story of him and his family growing up. I love to listen to them.
How they used to work when they were children out in the fields, come in at dinner when their mommas rang the bell and hollered at 'em to come in and wash up. How they butchered their own cattle and fed the whole city on just a few beef cows or hogs. I think of how things are now and compare them to back then and it helps you to get a new lease on life that is for sure! But it sounds like they had so much fun. Sure, they were poor, but they didn't know any other way. There weren't very many rich folks in rural South Carolina. They ran barefoot in the summer and got shoes in the winter every year. They wore tattered clothing usually made with love by their mommas and sometimes even the cotton the clothing was made out of came from their properties. They swam in the ponds without worry. They could go to other people's houses without concern of where their children went and if their children misbehaved well, the neighbors would whoop 'em just as quick as their own mommas. You know the saying, "It takes a villiage to raise a child"? Back then that was the way it was done. Children spoke when spoken to and their mommas and daddies did the best they could for 'em. By 15 you were workin'. My grandfather said he worked in a cotton mill and a chicken plant. He still remembers what it was like tossin' those chickens into the little bins 10 and 15 per box. Easy, he said, but it was still hardwork.
My grandfather is a good man, I believe the things that upset me most about when a family member passes away is the wonder of when and who is next. I only have my grandfather and my mother left (besides myself and my daughter) and I wonder how long that will last. No one can know. He always swore he'd live to be 100 and he still does. Lord I hope that is true. At 19 he joined the Marines, he was sent to Korea. Not long after WWII. My Great Grandfather Robert M Sapp served in WWII. I found his medals after my father passed away. My grandfather was a cook in the Marines. No it isn't a glorious job but they all had to eat right? He served 2 years. He was severely burned in Korea when a faulty gas tank exploded. My genious grandfather wasn't wearing a shirt. His arms and chest were scorched. He has not a hair one on his arms to this day. Though the scars barely show from that particular incident. At 22 he married my grandmother, who was at the time, only 16 years old. That was common in those days. He taught her how to live. How to survive away from the wing of her momma and daddies protection. He met her while in California. She was with her family stationed at an air base there. They moved back to South Carolina and eventually tried to start a family. The first child, named after both of their mothers, Lynelle Beatrice Dominick passed away at 2 days of age. She is buried in the Mount Heberon Lutheran Church Cemetary in Batesburg. After Lynelle Bea passed away my grandmother started to get terribly out of shape mentally. She pulled it together for a while though. She got pregnant again, this time with twins, a boy and a girl. They were both stillborn. My grandmother tried to commit suicide somewhere along the way many a time. My grandfather worked a lot. Doing various jobs that he could find. He worked at most of them until there just wasn't a job to be had there anymore. That was the way it was in those days, jobs came and went. There was no job security. That is why everyone was so poor. My grandmother got pregnant for a third time, this time with Christopher Douglas Dominick, she was on bed rest for 7 out of the 9 months, she could not get out of bed for the doctor feared she would lose this child too if she did. My dad was born on February 16, 1964.
He was a weird little kid. At two he brought his daddy a present, what was it you ask? Why it was his poop. How? Why? Huh? Well, he was potty training and had a habit of going potty in the yard. He got a whippin' when he did that, so on this particular day after pooping in the yard, he scooped up the poop and brought it in the house, yelling "daddy! daddy! I got you a present!" When my grandfather, thinking it would be a frog or a rockor even a bug cupped his hands out in front of him, he had not a clue what he was getting into. My dad dropped the load (literally), into my grandfather's hands, "what is this son? Where did you find it?" Of course he knew it was poop. He meant where did it come from, was it the dogs? Cats? "It's mine daddy, I made it just for you!" Yes that's it roll on the floor laughing. That is exactly what he said. Of course my grandfather lost all composure and I am pretty sure my dad got another whippin' but man it sure is funny now huh? Then when he was three he decided he didn't want to be a kid anymore, his first choice? A stop sign. He didn't speak for a whole day. He just kept making people stop. I am sure the silence was wonderful to both of my grandparents ears, but noone bargained for what would happen once he was sick of being a stop sign. His second and final choice? Why he was a dog of course! He ate on the floor out of his bowls and off of his plates for a few days, not speaking, only barking. He WAS a dog. Well, he was, atleast until he bit the mailman. We should all know what happened after that. Well, it was a bad enough ending that he decided he should just be a boy again.
My grandparent had a lot of foster children. Many whom had gone through abuse of varying degrees. I never knew any of them as I didn't come along until 1987 but they had many. Some of whom they wanted to adopt but due to my grandmother's fragile nature after her three lost children, they were unable to do so. My grandfather ran a FINA station in Centerville, GA. He owned and operated it with my dad's help. They had some of the best business in town. It was full service and they also did repairs. He later sold the FINA for a lump sum which he purchased property on a lake with. In 1985 my parents married. It was what it was, young and stupid, but if not for that I wouldn't be here. I came along in September of 1987 and here I sit. Typing this story for you all to read to make myself feel better about what has happened to my family. As they say, "It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all."
-A. Dominick
How they used to work when they were children out in the fields, come in at dinner when their mommas rang the bell and hollered at 'em to come in and wash up. How they butchered their own cattle and fed the whole city on just a few beef cows or hogs. I think of how things are now and compare them to back then and it helps you to get a new lease on life that is for sure! But it sounds like they had so much fun. Sure, they were poor, but they didn't know any other way. There weren't very many rich folks in rural South Carolina. They ran barefoot in the summer and got shoes in the winter every year. They wore tattered clothing usually made with love by their mommas and sometimes even the cotton the clothing was made out of came from their properties. They swam in the ponds without worry. They could go to other people's houses without concern of where their children went and if their children misbehaved well, the neighbors would whoop 'em just as quick as their own mommas. You know the saying, "It takes a villiage to raise a child"? Back then that was the way it was done. Children spoke when spoken to and their mommas and daddies did the best they could for 'em. By 15 you were workin'. My grandfather said he worked in a cotton mill and a chicken plant. He still remembers what it was like tossin' those chickens into the little bins 10 and 15 per box. Easy, he said, but it was still hardwork.
My grandfather is a good man, I believe the things that upset me most about when a family member passes away is the wonder of when and who is next. I only have my grandfather and my mother left (besides myself and my daughter) and I wonder how long that will last. No one can know. He always swore he'd live to be 100 and he still does. Lord I hope that is true. At 19 he joined the Marines, he was sent to Korea. Not long after WWII. My Great Grandfather Robert M Sapp served in WWII. I found his medals after my father passed away. My grandfather was a cook in the Marines. No it isn't a glorious job but they all had to eat right? He served 2 years. He was severely burned in Korea when a faulty gas tank exploded. My genious grandfather wasn't wearing a shirt. His arms and chest were scorched. He has not a hair one on his arms to this day. Though the scars barely show from that particular incident. At 22 he married my grandmother, who was at the time, only 16 years old. That was common in those days. He taught her how to live. How to survive away from the wing of her momma and daddies protection. He met her while in California. She was with her family stationed at an air base there. They moved back to South Carolina and eventually tried to start a family. The first child, named after both of their mothers, Lynelle Beatrice Dominick passed away at 2 days of age. She is buried in the Mount Heberon Lutheran Church Cemetary in Batesburg. After Lynelle Bea passed away my grandmother started to get terribly out of shape mentally. She pulled it together for a while though. She got pregnant again, this time with twins, a boy and a girl. They were both stillborn. My grandmother tried to commit suicide somewhere along the way many a time. My grandfather worked a lot. Doing various jobs that he could find. He worked at most of them until there just wasn't a job to be had there anymore. That was the way it was in those days, jobs came and went. There was no job security. That is why everyone was so poor. My grandmother got pregnant for a third time, this time with Christopher Douglas Dominick, she was on bed rest for 7 out of the 9 months, she could not get out of bed for the doctor feared she would lose this child too if she did. My dad was born on February 16, 1964.
He was a weird little kid. At two he brought his daddy a present, what was it you ask? Why it was his poop. How? Why? Huh? Well, he was potty training and had a habit of going potty in the yard. He got a whippin' when he did that, so on this particular day after pooping in the yard, he scooped up the poop and brought it in the house, yelling "daddy! daddy! I got you a present!" When my grandfather, thinking it would be a frog or a rockor even a bug cupped his hands out in front of him, he had not a clue what he was getting into. My dad dropped the load (literally), into my grandfather's hands, "what is this son? Where did you find it?" Of course he knew it was poop. He meant where did it come from, was it the dogs? Cats? "It's mine daddy, I made it just for you!" Yes that's it roll on the floor laughing. That is exactly what he said. Of course my grandfather lost all composure and I am pretty sure my dad got another whippin' but man it sure is funny now huh? Then when he was three he decided he didn't want to be a kid anymore, his first choice? A stop sign. He didn't speak for a whole day. He just kept making people stop. I am sure the silence was wonderful to both of my grandparents ears, but noone bargained for what would happen once he was sick of being a stop sign. His second and final choice? Why he was a dog of course! He ate on the floor out of his bowls and off of his plates for a few days, not speaking, only barking. He WAS a dog. Well, he was, atleast until he bit the mailman. We should all know what happened after that. Well, it was a bad enough ending that he decided he should just be a boy again.
My grandparent had a lot of foster children. Many whom had gone through abuse of varying degrees. I never knew any of them as I didn't come along until 1987 but they had many. Some of whom they wanted to adopt but due to my grandmother's fragile nature after her three lost children, they were unable to do so. My grandfather ran a FINA station in Centerville, GA. He owned and operated it with my dad's help. They had some of the best business in town. It was full service and they also did repairs. He later sold the FINA for a lump sum which he purchased property on a lake with. In 1985 my parents married. It was what it was, young and stupid, but if not for that I wouldn't be here. I came along in September of 1987 and here I sit. Typing this story for you all to read to make myself feel better about what has happened to my family. As they say, "It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all."
-A. Dominick
