No, I'm Not a Coal Minor's Daughter

I have always believed that we can learn almost all we need to know in life from our family elders. Be it our own family's history of how our tree came to be, or just lessons on life and how to survive. Though I didn't get a lot of time with my grandparents, and never met my great grandparents, I still cherish the few memories I have and what I learned from them.

In the past month some events have happened locally and nationally that have had me thinking about how things were done 50 years ago, how those people are different than a lot of us today, and why some of us have changed.

I know that my mom and her brothers were the first in their family to go to college. On my dad's side, my brother and I are the first generation college grads. Knowing what my grandparents and parents accomplished with those statistics behind them only tell me one thing; I come from a long line of hardworking, stubborn people. Hard times didn't keep them down or deter them from their dreams.

No, I'm not a coal minor's daughter. I'm the daughter of a public school teacher and an oil man. My ancestors range from Irish and English immigrants to Cherokee Indians who survived the Trail of Tears. My maternal great grandmother and whom I'm named after,Wealthy Love Ryan, died from pneumonia after caring for her neighbors who had the flu. She left three children without a mother, the youngest being my great Aunt Eva who was then a mere 6 months old. In 1925, Wealthy's daughter, Audra, my grandmother, crawled out of her school's Science classroom window in Mooringsport, Louisiana, ran off and married my grandfather Emmitt Loveall. She quickly returned to school, climbed back in the window and they waited until the end of the school year to tell family they were married. She was 16 at the time. The children who came from these wonderful people eventually became teachers, band directors, and business owners.

On my father's side, the only reason the Williamson's left Hathorne Mississippi at theR turn of the century was to find work in the mines of Arkansas. The older brother convinced the younger brother (my great grandfather) to take their families and head West. Not long after, the family's business, Williamson General Store in Hathorne, burned to the ground. As was custom 'back then', the oldest son was to go back home and care for his parents and the family business. He and his family returned to MS, rebuilt the store and shared the family home with his parents, never leaving again. The younger brother raised his children in Arkansas until he heard about oil field jobs in Gladewater, Tx.  Soon, he brought his family including my grandfather Robert, down to East Texas to begin the Williamson Texas roots. My maternal grandmother, 'Snooks' was born and partly raised in West Texas. Her mother died and she was raised by her father and step mother picking cotton in the fields near Midland. The family came to Kilgore, also for the oil field job opportunities, when she was close to junior high age. She quit school in the 8th grade and got a job at a sewing factory. Eventually my grandmother worked her way into owning her own sewing business. I remember her story of when my grandfather was courting her. She'd be sitting on her family's front porch with of course no shoes on her feet. She'd hear the motor of his truck coming down the path and she'd run inside and put on her shoes and start to pinch her cheeks.

The oil field is the reason I exist. That and the fact that the men and women in my family were hardworkers and defined the American Dream.  Grandparents on both sides came to Texas for a better life for their families. I have so much to learn from them. We can all learn from our family members who came long before us.
My favorite times now are when my children spend time with their grandparents and great grandparents. They are blessed to still have two great grandmothers on Daddo's side and three grandparents who are incredibly involved in their lives. What my children can learn from them is something I will never be able to teach them. Family is the most important thing in our lives. It is something that no one can take from us, will always be here for us and will be the legacy that we, too, will one day leave behind.
I believe that just being around our extended family and having close relationships with them is teaching my children lessons on the importance of love, family heritage, and preserving those memories.

As parents to four young Americans, Daddo and I can only do so much. We teach them that nothing comes easy. Whether its a test in school or a game of checkers at home, it will never be just given to you; you have to earn everything. Our job is a difficult one. As more and more from the older, hard working generation are leaving us, the task of continuing the values of the American Dream lie on our shoulders. That's why I cherish the time my children do have with their great grandparents and others who remind us all of the days past.
I pray my sons get to one day retire. I pray they aren't worked to death with nothing to show for it. I pray my daughter retains the moral values that the generations of women in her family had before her.
All these things I can only hope and pray for.
Recently something happened that triggered my thoughts on this subject that was already in the back of my mind.  A dearly loved long time friend of Daddo's family, Laverne Clifton passed away. She was the epitomy of independence, hard working and kindness. And my boys loved her.

I continue to be blessed with a loving family I married into. They also include Irish/German/English immigrants who built a life from nothing into successful careers, Christian homes and values that I am proud to pass on to my children in the Jackson/ Tyner names.

Below are wonderful pictures of Daddo's grandmother, Martha Tyner, chatting away with two of her great granddaughters. On the left is my daughter, Cora Love, and on the right is her first cousin and my brother-in-law's daughter, Sophia Rose, both 4 months old. While I was taking these and listening to her, I couldn't help but think of all the wisdom she could give to these two baby girls. I don't want any of it to go away. The values and ideals of the generations before us must live on, somehow.

Martha 'Mot' Tyner and Cora Love Jackson, October 2012

89 years old and 4 months old

I love this picture of the Ryan's, my mother's grandparents. This is their last family picture taken before my great grandmother, Wealthy Love, caught pneumonia and died. The little girl in the chair is my mom's mother, Audra. The boy is my great uncle, Vaulter, and the baby is my great Aunt Eva. The children were split up and raised by different family members. This picture represents so much. Notice the typewriter and set of Encyclopedias. My great grandfather was a writer and loved knowledge of any kind. My family obviously had love and pride for their country and understood what it meant to be an American.

This picture was taken in 1925, the summer after my mom's parents were secretly married. There used to be a small museum in Mooringsport, on the Louisiana side of Caddo Lake. Displayed there was a picture of the Science classroom window at Mooringsport High School where my Memaw crawled out, ran off and married Emmitt Loveall. She's 16 and he's 19 here. Their three children all attended college.

Above is such a happy picture of my paternal grandparents Robert (Windy) and Verda Mae. They only had one child, my dad. Papaw also worked in the oil field after his dad brought his brother and him to Gladewater for the oil business. My dad was born in Gladewater and the family came to New London to live in the Humble Oil Camp. Mimi worked as a seamstress. I've always thought I looked more like my Mimi than anyone else in my family. 

I'm super proud of the hardworking people I can call my family and from who my genes flow.
The generations before us were made up of people from all over the world who only wanted one thing; to live the American Dream.
Happiness to these people was food on their plates, clothes on their backs, a roof to call home and good health for their loved ones. They worked hard for everything they had. Why have the values of people changed so much? Why is the desire to make a good life for yourself and your family no longer important to so many? Is this trend going to continue? Is it going to become worse until most of the population doesn't care to earn a living? What then will happen to the rest of us who still believe in working and earning a living like our ancestors did before us? We can only work so hard. We cannot provide for everyone. I pray that this trend somehow stops and the American Dream stays intact.