Have you ever thought about all of the millions of things that had to happen over time in order for you to be wherever you are right now? it’s pretty amazing when you get right down to analyzing it. One tiny change might have altered everything and the world would be without you.
I think of my parents meeting each other at a small company called Reed Roller Bit when they were both quite young. My mother was doing secretarial work and my father was there for the summer as a draftsman earning money for his college tuition. My mother first noticed him when they were both waiting for the same bus to arrive each afternoon at the end of the work day. Initially they said nothing to each other but my mother was intrigued by the young man who would was so much younger that the other guys who worked there. She did some digging and learned that he was an engineering student at Texas A&M which caught her fancy even more. With her sparkling personality she decided to get to know him.
One afternoon as they were both walking to the bus stop she flirtatiously called out to him, saying that if he waited up they might sit together on the ride home. He turned in amazement as he saw the beautiful girl who was inviting herself into his life and instantly stopped in his tracks. Of course the rest is history because they began dating and fell in love and got married and by 1948 I was born. In truth however so much more had to happen for their destinies to collide in the summer of 1946.
My paternal grandparents were from Virginia and Texas. The odds of their meeting were slim and it did not happen until they were both in their forties when my grandfather was staying in a boarding house in Oklahoma where he was working. As fate would have it my grandmother was the cook for the borders and one evening Grandpa asked to meet whoever was concocting such delicious meals. When Grandma came out of the kitchen she stole his heart and before long his single days were over.
Of course they had to get to Houston for my father to be working there. They travelled to many places each time that my grandfather heard about a new construction job. Eventually their journey took them to Texas and finally to Houston were they lived in a lovely home on Arlington St., my father’s destination from work each evening.
I have no idea how my maternal grandparents met. I only knew that they were both from Czechoslovakia and that my grandfather immigrated to Galveston, Texas in 1912. From there he found his way to Houston where he lived in a boarding house until he had enough funds to send for my grandmother in 1913. Once she joined him they also moved about but soon settled in Houston on North Adams Street where my mother was going each evening when her shift as a secretary was done.
What had to happen before my grandparents were born is so interesting to me. While my the ancestors from my paternal grandmother were in what is now the United States long before the American Revolution, I have little idea about those who came before my paternal grandfather. I know that he was born in North Carolina but the genealogical trail ends for him with his parents.
My paternal ancestors from my grandmother came to America from Great Britain. They came from Irish and Scottish stock and I have tracked their story all the way back to Normans and Vikings. My maternal grandparents both had parents and grandparents who were from Czechoslovakia but it would be unlikely that the family was always in that part of the world. After my great great maternal grandparents the trial ends.
I remember watching a television special called Roots when I was a young adult. It was a fascinating story about a man who was able to retrace his family all the way back to Africa. I suppose that each of ushave a yearning to know how we got to where we are now. It is in our natures to want to understand more of who we are and where our people have been. It provides us with a better idea of how we came to be. It also shows us how so many little things had to fall exactly into place to become a very specific member of the human race.
I enjoy hearing the stories of people. I find that while they might differ enormously there are also so many commonalities that we all share. We all too often believe that our differences make us unable to truly understand each other but revealing the stories of our lives almost always demonstrates how alike we humans ultimately are. What is always the many things that had to take place to create the unique and wonderful person each of us is. It’s pretty wonderful and amazing when you think about it. Every human is the compilation of a million little miracles.
All It Takes Is A Little Love 