Change of Scenery Part Two
On the road just before the dirt road which I am pretty sure is where Grandma and Grandpa Young had their farm (my great grandparents) we passed a field of yellow flowers. That reminded me of my father. I tend to think of my mother a lot when I'm in the NC mountains because that's where she's from. My father is from eastern NC near the coast so I have strong roots from the mountains to the coast. My father's parents died when he was a teenager so I never knew them. Similarly I never knew Carver Young, my mother's father who I was named after since he died when she was a baby. I'm so grateful that my daughter reached
adulthood with both of her parents still alive and that she knew all four of her grandparents and one great grandparent. I don't know much about my paternal Grandmother but my father said that when he was a child and he was upset, she would tell him to think of fields of yellow daisies. He in turn would say that to his children sometimes. Although the field pictured here isn't daisies it reminded me nonetheless of my father and was a good image. If only my grandmother Sapp had known, she was ahead of her time teaching her 
child visualization techniques before they became a new age fad. Learning to think of field of yellow daisies from my father is particularly helplful to me because he wasn't one to sweep injustices under the carpet. There are times when putting the blinders on will perpetuate problems but that wasn't what I was taught to do. There are times when we have to go to a place of comfort and safety if we have one and regroup. A field of flowers, whether in the mind's eye or up close and personal, is a good place to do it. Although I have memories of Grandma and Grandpa Young, I didn't know the name of the place where their farm was until I glanced in a pocket bible I have that says: Carver Young, Grassy Creek, N. Car. March 10, 1918. Until I checked the inscription recently I thought it was a prayer book but it's actually a tiny bible. When I was a child we would visit my grandmother in Boone, NC fairly regularly and often drive from the
re for an afternoon at my Grandma and Grandpa Young's farm. I remember their spring house and rolling down a big green hill. This past weekend when Bill and I went to Grassy Creek one afternoon we discovered that it was basically a community with a post office, farms and a few scattered houses. The reason I'm reasonably sure we found what used to be their farm was the little hint like a road sign named Young Rd. When you go down Young Rd there are a few houses including one mail box with Young on it. At the end of the dirt road is an organic farm but we didn't make it there because I was put off by the chickens blocking the road. I did take pictures of the hill that reminded me of the one I would roll down as a child and of our 
trip down the road. I think it's likely the Young still living on that road is my Great Uncles' great grandchild. I knew that the Uncle that inherited the farm eventually sold portions of it while keeping the place where his house was. If I wasn't so shy I would have knocked on the door and said, hello I'm one of Walter and Loretta Young's great grandchildren, are we related? Maybe another time. Life is so strange. I am very saddened that I never knew Carver Young and of course sadder than that is the fact that my mom didn't know him
. Since her father died when she was two months old it's not the same as missing someone you have a bond with but it's a loss of another kind. However, carried one step further, in order for my mother to have known her father, she wouldn't have had the sisters and brothers who were my grandmother's children with her second husband. That's the odd part of life to me. It's so tragic for a young man with a two month old baby to die when he's in his early twenties but once life moves on what follows can involve so many twists and turns that there is no going back even in the mind's eye. I can't imagine the Aunts, Uncles, cousins, and cousin's children not being born and that all came after Carver died and my grandmother eventually remarried. What an odd rambling post this has turned into.
On the road just before the dirt road which I am pretty sure is where Grandma and Grandpa Young had their farm (my great grandparents) we passed a field of yellow flowers. That reminded me of my father. I tend to think of my mother a lot when I'm in the NC mountains because that's where she's from. My father is from eastern NC near the coast so I have strong roots from the mountains to the coast. My father's parents died when he was a teenager so I never knew them. Similarly I never knew Carver Young, my mother's father who I was named after since he died when she was a baby. I'm so grateful that my daughter reached
adulthood with both of her parents still alive and that she knew all four of her grandparents and one great grandparent. I don't know much about my paternal Grandmother but my father said that when he was a child and he was upset, she would tell him to think of fields of yellow daisies. He in turn would say that to his children sometimes. Although the field pictured here isn't daisies it reminded me nonetheless of my father and was a good image. If only my grandmother Sapp had known, she was ahead of her time teaching her 
child visualization techniques before they became a new age fad. Learning to think of field of yellow daisies from my father is particularly helplful to me because he wasn't one to sweep injustices under the carpet. There are times when putting the blinders on will perpetuate problems but that wasn't what I was taught to do. There are times when we have to go to a place of comfort and safety if we have one and regroup. A field of flowers, whether in the mind's eye or up close and personal, is a good place to do it. Although I have memories of Grandma and Grandpa Young, I didn't know the name of the place where their farm was until I glanced in a pocket bible I have that says: Carver Young, Grassy Creek, N. Car. March 10, 1918. Until I checked the inscription recently I thought it was a prayer book but it's actually a tiny bible. When I was a child we would visit my grandmother in Boone, NC fairly regularly and often drive from the
re for an afternoon at my Grandma and Grandpa Young's farm. I remember their spring house and rolling down a big green hill. This past weekend when Bill and I went to Grassy Creek one afternoon we discovered that it was basically a community with a post office, farms and a few scattered houses. The reason I'm reasonably sure we found what used to be their farm was the little hint like a road sign named Young Rd. When you go down Young Rd there are a few houses including one mail box with Young on it. At the end of the dirt road is an organic farm but we didn't make it there because I was put off by the chickens blocking the road. I did take pictures of the hill that reminded me of the one I would roll down as a child and of our 
trip down the road. I think it's likely the Young still living on that road is my Great Uncles' great grandchild. I knew that the Uncle that inherited the farm eventually sold portions of it while keeping the place where his house was. If I wasn't so shy I would have knocked on the door and said, hello I'm one of Walter and Loretta Young's great grandchildren, are we related? Maybe another time. Life is so strange. I am very saddened that I never knew Carver Young and of course sadder than that is the fact that my mom didn't know him
. Since her father died when she was two months old it's not the same as missing someone you have a bond with but it's a loss of another kind. However, carried one step further, in order for my mother to have known her father, she wouldn't have had the sisters and brothers who were my grandmother's children with her second husband. That's the odd part of life to me. It's so tragic for a young man with a two month old baby to die when he's in his early twenties but once life moves on what follows can involve so many twists and turns that there is no going back even in the mind's eye. I can't imagine the Aunts, Uncles, cousins, and cousin's children not being born and that all came after Carver died and my grandmother eventually remarried. What an odd rambling post this has turned into.
2 comments:
Here is what I am thinking of your odd rambling post:
Beautiful.
Love, K.
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You'll forget the sun in his jealous sky as we walk in fields of gold.
-Sting
I love the comtemplative post..not odd at all...your mind wanders much like mine does. Twists and turns every which way...interesting reading. Photos are wonderful as always..it brings back memories for me too in MO and IL...days of young childhood and green fields and small towns with a post office and little else. Fond memories with lots of twists and turns. Then I became a CA girl. sue
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