By Bonnie Brown

Columnist

 

I was probably 10 or 11 years old before I realized that, unlike my peers, I had 4 sets of grandparents.  Up until then, it just didn’t strike me as “different.”  

I became aware of my multiple blessings as I became more knowledgeable about my father’s early childhood.  He was born to parents who divorced when he was about 13 years old.  Shortly afterwards, he went to work on a farm owned by the Ralston family.   I really don’t know why he went to live and work on the Ralston farm, but I think it may have had something to do with the fact that there were 9 children in the family.    The Ralston’s had 3 children roughly the age of my dad.  The Ralston’s became his second set of parents and treated him as such.  The Ralston children were his siblings by any definition.   And even though my dad was so readily accepted into this family, the circumstances leading up to that must have been very sad for my father, but he never spoke of it.  Through the years, he had a very loving relationship with both of his biological parents and their spouses.  

After Dad returned from serving in the army during World War II, he brought with him a wife whom he had married in Baltimore, Maryland.  My mother came from Kentucky and was working as a welder in the shipyards there as were many other young women.  Together they built a life and a family of 3 (me and 2 younger brothers) who became a part of this very extended family of 4 sets of grandparents since by that time, my father’s divorced parents had each remarried.  

We didn’t get to see my Kentucky grandparents, the Pattersons, as often given that there was a distance of around 185 plus miles all of which were 2-lane and very curvy roads.  I remember my Grandmother Patterson could give the biggest hugs and always gave me lots of attention.  In contrast, I saw my Ralston grandparents practically every weekend.  

I saw my paternal grandparents less often but nevertheless, I spent quality time with them.  My Grandmother Rudd (my father’s mother) was more serious than my Grandmother Ralston and seemed less affectionate.  Grandma Rudd’s husband, Ashton Rudd, was such a nice gentleman.   He played the fiddle and almost always took it out to play for us when we visited.  His easy-going manner was a contrast to my grandmother, so they were a good match.  I remember when he took me to a tobacco auction once in Maysville, Kentucky.  It was fascinating!  How did the auctioneer talk so fast and how did the business transactions take place when it all seemed like they moved along so quickly?  

My paternal Grandfather Pollard was a blacksmith, had a grist mill, and grew tobacco, so visits to him were interesting for us as children and lots of work for my father who would help him harvest the tobacco.  Grandpa didn’t have electricity, but he had lots of kerosene lanterns, and you had to place perishables in a natural spring well located near the kitchen to keep them cool.  I don’t remember much about my Grandpa’s “new” wife except that she was very loving and looked forward to our visits.  She had no other grandchildren and was a member of the Hatfield family from the infamous Hatfield and McCoy feud.  She passed away when I was quite young and my Grandpa never remarried.  

Through the years, I have reminisced about my childhood and my Grandparents and family that were not related by blood.  My family is perfectly “normal” if you go by the definition that a family is a group of individuals with a continuing emotional relationship, and not the traditional definition of having a genetic relationship and sharing a common ancestry.  

In my present-day life, our “family” includes several who are not related by blood but otherwise complete our family unit with love and bonds stronger than being a mere social unit.  I am so blessed and grateful that these relationships will endure my lifetime.