Thoughts on Family

It is in the pre-dawn hours of Saturday morning as I write this column for The Monticello News. As I write this column I do not know the outcome of tonight’s Georgia-Alabama game that will decide who is this year’s Southeastern Conference football champion. What I do know is that I awoke about an hour ago and could not return to sleep because of nervousness and anticipation about the contest.

I usually write my column on Sunday afternoon while the choir is practicing at the First United Methodist Church. By doing this I am not pressed by the Monday deadline of the newspaper. However, this Sunday will be different. Rather than be at my desk late on Sunday afternoon I will be in nearby Monroe as we celebrate the life of my Aunt Nancy Ruth.

Nancy Ruth passed away at the age of 94 this past Wednesday. She was the wife of my Uncle Shurley. That’s right, I am serious, we did call him Shurley. Shurley was my maternal grandmother’s maiden name and she often selected family names for his chidren.

There were five children in the family of my grandparents who were hard working folks that made their living in the cotton fields of Dooly and Crisp County. Shurley was the oldest, then there was Henry, followed by David, then came my father, John Milla, and the final child was a daughter by the name of Betty.

Shurley married Nancy Ruth, Henry married Violet, David was wed to Ruth, my father married Mary, and Betty was the only sibling to marry someone from out of state, a fellow by the name of Tony.

There is a great picture that I believe my sister has of Aunt Betty’s wedding day with my grandfather, grandmother, and all of the siblings and spouses standing on the front steps of the First Methodist Church of Albany.

These were hardy souls who grew up during the Depression and many of the boys became men on the battlefields of World War II. They were a part of what has been called the Greatest Generation.

The siblings all died in order. Most died too young but I suppose that a life of tobacco use can make that happen. The spouses were a different story. The youngest spouse, Uncle Tony, died first and the others following in no particular order. Now with the passing of Aunt Nancy Ruth the last of the children and spouses of John T. and Lizzie Brown have entered the portals of the church triumphant.

They all did what they knew how to do which was work hard and raise a family. Each had their ups and their downs, their triumphs and their tragedies. What I ultimately know is this—in the end they made a better life for their children than they enjoyed. If I never said thank you consider that now done even it is a little too late to do so.

These ten folks produced 14 children. Two have passed away themselves and quite frankly there are two cousins whom I do not know how to find. The cousins are getting a little mileage on them now as I am the youngest and I have cracked the half century mark and have gray hair competing with the blonde.

We, like our parents, have had our ups and downs, our triumphs and tragedies. In the irony of ironies only two of us live in the area from which our family came, unless those cousins whom I don’t know how to find are hiding somewhere down there.

I’m sure the story of my family is little different than the story of anyone else’s family. Yet, for me it is unique because it is the only story that I have. When we gather in the church in Monroe tomorrow we will celebrate the life of Aunt Nancy Ruth.

However, we will also celebrate the great gift that God has given us and that is the gift of family.