So, today, on this Friday, I will be heading back to my hometown of Lavonia, Georgia to attend the funeral of my Aunt Mozelle, or Aunt Mo as we called her. She lived an honorable 92 years in the service of her beloved Lord and was a strong, country raised Southern Belle. But tough as nails and smart as a whip.
My Aunt was the only girl of 11 brothers and sisters on my father's side of the family. It was a family that was dirt poor farmers in Northeast Georgia, struggling to make way in the post Depression era. My Grandfather, her father, was a moonshiner and bootlegger in the Prohibition days, but suddenly had a calling of conscious and decided that a life of being poor with back breaking labor was better than a life in prison.
She, along with the other 11, worked the farm, including the now non-politically correct job of picking cotton. (Yes, we are a white, European descendant family) Back then, hard work and and putting food on the table and clothes on the backs was all that mattered. Color was irrelevant.
Anyway, over the course of time, she became the last living of the 11. I realized the last time I visited with her, that she was the Matriarch of the my Pop's side of the family. In fact, of the generation above me and my cousins. A fact and title that is lost these days, it seems.
I think that with the family units becoming so spread out and living in so many different areas at once, that we lost a bit of that tradition and custom of recognizing the oldest living woman or man in the family. I know in many cultures, it is an honored position within the family and is considered one of leadership and final say so in all family matters.
Maybe we should focus on our families, do the research if we don't know and spend time with the patriarchs and matriarchs of our families. Sit with our elders and listen. And learn. Especially learn.
Here's to you Aunt Mo, rest easy now, we carry your work forward.
Until next time
Semper Fortis
Chief Chuck
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