It's Mother's Day, and I miss my mom Emma Thompson so much. She passed away August 22, 2016. How I wish I could visit her and wish her a Happy Mother's Day. She was such a great light in my life. I want to wish Mom a happy heavenly Mother's Day.
This day also makes me consider grandmothers. I never knew either one of my grandmothers, as they had died before I was born. All of my life I have wondered how it felt to have grandparents and to share their love – how having grandparents really enriches one's life. Both of my grandfathers had also passed by the time I was three or four, so I don't have much of a memory of them either.
Today, in honor of Mother's Day, I want to write about my grandmother on my mother's side, Carrie Forrest (Johnson) Callihan. Using these words establishes a connection that I hope can fill a void in my memory. At the very least it will allow me to pay my respects to a grandma I never had the opportunity to know. And, I want to share with you some very simple thoughts.
Through photos and a genealogy mostly done by my mother, I can touch my grandmother. When I review this scant history, I feel as if I “know” my close relative even though I lack any actual personal contact. To me, that is such a treasure. Still, I admit I never had the privilege of “knowing” Grandma Callihan in the real sense of the word.
I have so many unanswered questions about what she was really like, and now I regret not asking my mother more about her. The passage of time prohibits this. Mom and all of her brothers and sisters are deceased, so I am left to peruse the records left behind to acquaint myself further with Carrie. I am left with words and images to understand her. As poor as these substitutes are for a person, I have them at hand, and I want to reflect upon them once more.
Carrie Forrest Johnson – My Maternal Grandmother
Carrie Forrest Johnson was born October 17,1891 in Adams County, Ohio. She died at the age of 53 on May 27, 1944, at 1305 Linden Avenue in Portsmouth, Ohio, seven years before I was born.
Carrie married Martin Leslie Callihan on January 11, 1915. (Martin, my grandfather, was born on December 19, 1885, in Greenup County, Kentucky. He died at the age of 69 on February 20, 1954, at Rockledge, Florida, at home.) I was three at the time of his demise.
I am rather ashamed to admit the little I know about Carrie came from a few conversations with my mother. I know my mother cared for Carrie's during her last days when she suffered with cancer. A funny thing – Carrie didn't like Franklin Roosevelt, so she had Mom promise not to vote for him. I also know that her and my Grandpa Callihan would test a car on the huge hill rising up from Blue Creek. They would pack all the kids in the car and have them chant “Go! Go!” all the way up the hill to encourage the engine to do the job. If it topped the hill without stopping, it was judged a good car.
Little incidents remembered … but what was Carrie really like? Was she funny or easy going? Did she like music like me? Was she a woman who spoke her mind? I don't know. I do know she would cook biscuits almost every morning and gladly share them with any other kids who happened to stop at the house to walk to school with my mom and her siblings. Anyone who bakes biscuits is a friend of mine.
Carrie's Children
My Grandmother Callihan had seven children. They were: Jacob Leroy Callihan (born August 22, 1913), Elmo Leslie Callihan (born May 26, 1915), Ida Lucille Callihan (born July 21, 1918), my mom Emma Louise Callihan (born November 29, 1920), Charles Kenneth Callihan (born January 25, 1923), Howard Lowell Callihan (born March 20, 1926 and died in a fall from the Offnere Street viaduct on October 21, 1943), and Clayton Callihan (born October 24, 1928).
Carrie's Parents (My Greats)
Carrie's father was Carey Walter Johnson (born April 22, 1868 in Adams County, Oliver Township; he died at home on Rt. 125 at Lynx, Ohio, in Adams Couny on December 17, 1947.)
Carrie's mother was Ida Mae Troutman (born June 14, 1872, in Lawrence County, Ohio; she died at home on Rt. 125 at Lynx, Ohio, in Adams County on May 29, 1946.)
Carey Walter Johnson and Ida Mae Troutman were married on August 6, 1890.
Both of Carri's parents outliver her. Her relatively young death must have been so difficult for them to bear.
Carrie's mom and dad had parents from both Ireland and Germany. So, the overseas connections reveal so many other interesting links. It makes one wonder how they settled in Lynx and rural Adams County, Ohio. I'd love to know that story.
Ida Mae Troutman and Carey Walter Johnson had eight children. Carrie was the oldest. Other siblings are Guy St. Clair Johnson (1893-1970), Goldie Murrell Johnson (1896-1987), Nancy Anna Johnson (1900-1905), Sherry Frances Johnson (1902-1981), Estel Hugh Johnson (1907-1980), Beulah Mae Johnson (1909-1981), and Eugene Voss Johnson (1913-1925).
Grandparents I Never Knew
My wife Cindy and I love our grandchildren so much. In many ways they represent the joy in our hearts, and we cherish our time with them as very special moments in our lives. Of course, we try to spoil them as much as possible. What a tremendous gift they are.
As we age, not only our children, but also our grandchildren hold our own hopes and aspirations. The special relationships we have formed with our kids and grandchildren now include a great-grandchild whom we simply adore. If my grandparents were anything like Cindy and I, they doted on all of their offspring. I can imagine their love and care.
And, I do not use the word “imagine” without acknowledging that due to my own lack of experience and my regrettable lack of self-discovery when my parents, aunts, and uncles were alive, I must come closer to my kin mainly through my imagination – conjuring mental images that I hope cut through the void and give substance to my grandparents. I should have pushed myself to learn so much more.
I also can't help but wonder how much our grandchildren will remember of being with grandparents – will it stay tucked away somewhere in their young minds. It's not that the quantity of people, places, and this remembered is that important, but I do hope the quality is rich. I think I try to be “there” for them partly because I would have loved to had time with my own grandmothers and grandfathers.
For those readers who think this entire entry is silly, I get it. You may say “you can't miss what you've never had” or “my grandparents were alive during my life and it didn't mean that much to me,” but I would tell you that having no memories is troubling to a person who cherishes his grandfatherly time with all of his grandkids. It's not so much about important or amazing things we do together. The delight is more about watching them grow, mature into interesting human beings, and being able to share with them along the way. Their physical, emotional, and intellectual growth gives me wings and affirms my hope for their future.
To close, I don't want this Mother's Day entry to be a memorial that reeks of sentimental emotion and loss. Instead, I want these words to express to you, the reader, how fortunate you are if you have loving, devoted grandparents. Try to remember to record some of those thoughts and facts about them because some day you will be old like me, and your weak memory will wonder much more about your kin and the lifeblood they provided you. DNA analysis and genealogy are wonderful gifts, but personal experience – conversations, written descriptions, and, of course, stories – are irreplaceable legacies. How I wish I had those firsthand endowments.
Sometimes, such memories spread their wings and take flight.
Butterfly Laughter
By Katherine Mansfield (1988-1923)
In the middle of our
porridge plates
There was a blue butterfly painted
And each
morning we tried who should reach the
butterfly first.
Then the
Grandmother said: "Do not eat the poor
butterfly."
That
made us laugh.
Always she said it and always it started us
laughing.
It seemed such a sweet little joke.
I was certain
that one fine morning
The butterfly would fly out of our
plates,
Laughing the teeniest laugh in the world,
And perch on
the Grandmother's lap.
Kathleen Mansfield Murry (née Beauchamp) was a New Zealand writer, essayist and journalist, widely considered one of the most influential and important authors of the modernist movement. Her works are celebrated across the world, and have been published in 25 languages.
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