Major on Trial

     It all started over a sack full of squirrels.  That is all I knew about why my grandfather was tried and convicted of murder.  My mother recently presented to me an envelope containing all of my grandmother's notes and clippings about the matter.  I have glanced at the headlines and stashed the whole file away for a time when I am rested and have time to dive in head first with no regard for curriculum mapping or lesson planning or formal assessments.  Lately, my leisure reading materials have been replaced by instructional strategy guides and assessment manuals as I settle in to my new teaching position.  Major's story deserves all my attention so that when I retell it I get it right.

     In the meanwhile, I have been thinking about the many facets of my Grandpa Major.  I remember his chuckle.  I don't remember what he chuckled at, but he sure did get a kick out of a lot of things.  This made Grandma Margaret mad most of the time...maybe that is what he thought was funny.  I love this photo of them because they are both smiling at the same time.  Major was a happy man.  One who never met a stranger and could always find something for a stray animal to eat.  One of the two times I ever saw him cry was when one of his baby chicks had an unfortunate encounter with an electric fan.  He loved to observe animals.  I remember being about seven years old when he had a couple of opossums in a trashcan in the garage.  He had attached a broom handle across the top of the can and when I saw them the critters were hanging from it by their tails.

      Grandpa hunted, but not really for sport.  I have heard the tales of the alligator and black bear kills, but those were nuisance animals that had to be exterminated.  Major wasn't one for hanging heads on a wall.  I first saw this bear picture when I was in college and I was surprised because I knew how much he loved animals.  He had been hunting in Smith Creek that day in 1962 with Mr. Wise, of the Wise potato chip company.  I detect a bit of pride in his handsome face, so the exterminator story may prove to be bogus.

     This is my grandpa with a hired hand back in 1948.  They killed this gator down in Smith Creek.  My mother actually remembers when this photo was taken even though she was only three years old.  She said that Major wanted her to get in the picture, too, but she was terrified of the massive lizard.  There didn't seem to be a shortage of guns or big scary critters in Smith Creek so it is no wonder my mother grew to be such a stoic, unshakable woman.

     Here is my uncle Pat with grandpa and that gator.  (My mama was on that truck in the background.) Pat was five years old and had his own little gun.  And would you check out the ax in that lizard's mouth.  They didn't have child-proof latches back then.  The kids were taught that stupid hurts and that you don't go around bothering things that don't belong to you.  My grandparents were strict and taught responsibility and so their children learned to respect authority... and rifles.  My own son's BB gun is on the top shelf in my closet...I am not half the teacher Major was.

     While Grandpa Major was quite the sportsman, he had a creative side as well.  My grandmother was a seamstress, and I am not sure if he had a genuine interest in sewing or if he wanted to show Margaret up, but he made a beautiful dress for my mother.  It was blue velvet with an ivory satin collar.  He also made a white wool cape for my mom and this photo shows her wearing it with the dress in 1950.
     In addition to occasional tailoring, Major was a barber, a ship builder and a security guard for several government agencies in his latter years.  He knew everyone and was related to the rest.  I am looking forward to a weekend not too far down the road in which I can settle into the details of his indictment and trials.  Life in Smith Creek was hard, the people were poor and there was lots of shooting and killing of the local wildlife.  But when I focus on all the things I remember about my grandpa, I find it hard to believe he could be a cold-blooded killer...especially over a few squirrels.