Mae and Bob

My mother's sister Mae was born in 1914. She died in 1992. She never married. In 1952, my grandmother's dementia became too severe for her to be left alone. Mae was unmarried and, naturally, had to work. So that there would be someone to look after my grandmother, we moved into "the house" - the one built by my grandfather & his sons - with Aunt Mae, my grandmother and my mother's youngest sister. That my mother cared for two children under six, cooked, cleaned house, and washed and ironed clothes (no clothes dryer - she hung them outdoors to dry) for seven people, day in and day out with little help never really hit me until I was an adult. It wasn't that she wasn't appreciated or loved or treated well. She considered it her role in life. Her duty. I think she accepted it and loved parts of it. But to this day, I wonder how she did it with no resentment or bitterness.

But I intended this to be about Bob (here's his picture) and Mae. Bob was the first son, born after five daughters. In this picture I imagine he's in his late teens or early twenties. See that bank behind him? That was "dug out" by Granddaddy's sons so they could build a house on the property. I suppose he could not afford to pour a basement so the house was built on the flat lot after the boys dug all this dirt out from under it. That's the house in the picture above with Aunt Mae.

Bob was -- from what I've been told -- a gentle, kind boy with a big heart and sense of humor. He was born in 1921 or 1922 - he would have been the same age as my father. Bob went into the army during World War II and was stationed in Africa, on the Gold Coast. Here's a picture of him and a friend. I don't know where the young African men come in.

Below is a picture of Bob and his best friend, from Chicago - probably the first Yankee Bob had ever met! :-)Aunt Mae began a correspondence with this gentleman's wife which lasted until Aunt Mae's death in 1992 - almost 50 years -- and the never met.

Bob contracted tuberculosis while in Africa. He died at Oteen Hospital in the fall of 1945. Aunt Mae had moved to Ahseville, North Carolina to take care of him. She would have been about 30 or so and was very close to Bob. She lived in a room above a drug store during the time she was there - I don't know how long. On weekends, other family members rode the Greyhound bus to Asheville to visit their brother. Once, Granny made the trip when Bob was very close to death. Granddaddy was unable to go as he was very ill himself.

My grandfather was a close friend of the local funeral director - best friends, in fact. When Bob's body arrived home, it was evening. My grandfather could not bear the thought of his oldest son lying alone overnight in the funeral home. The family was extremely distraught over the death of the beloved son. The funeral director, out his love and respect for my grandfather, allowed the body to stay at the house. My aunt told me this was actually illegal, since it was not embalmed. I don't know if that is true or not - from what I've read recently it is not the case. At any rate, it meant something to my grandfather and the funeral director respected that.

My grandfather died two months later.