Stories
Life as Literature
The fatal flaw in my life as an English teacher was that I never really believed that literature truly reflected life. And it doesn’t. But this morning I encountered a Romeo and Juliet story that could have come right out of Shakespeare.
Perhaps I should start at the beginning (if there is one). For days now I have been absorbed with genealogy work. Absorbed probably isn’t the best word because it doesn’t begin to describe the all-consuming nature of this passion. I think of words like enthralled, in the grip of, and possessed. There is no sleep, no food, no daily need that isn’t forgotten in this quest to find the missing piece. What drives me may be the need to know a birth date, a middle name, or in this morning’s case an answer to a family puzzle. It is so bad that when I’m in conversation with my husband he must keep reminding me to “focus, Susan, focus” because I tend to fade out in the middle of a sentence as my mind thinks about a new way to spell Gahn or Kourt.
The puzzle piece that came to me in my sleep last night (remember, I said I was possessed) is a fascinating one to recount (at least it is to me). It is making me reconsider my belief in the value of literature. My father’s early life was a tragic one with his father dying violently when he was only a small child. This left his mother to deal with the world as a single parent with no means of support. Today we take this issue for granted as we read the statistics on the homeless, but we don’t expect to find it in our past.
In my search for family I wondered why it was left to the parents of his mother to provide support while his father’s more affluent family ignored them. Growing up I had no idea that this other family even existed. Today I know why. What I don’t know is why no one ever told me. No matter. It’s been a fascinating journey in the quest for an answer.
The solution to the puzzle goes back to a time that still haunts us even though we think that events 150 years ago have no impact on our lives today. Many of my roots are Southern with family found in Alabama and Georgia. The assumption would be that family members who were alive during the period of the Civil War or the War Between the States (depending upon your side) would have fought on the side of the Confederacy. Sometimes such assumptions can be wrong.
It is true that one side did wear the grey. At the age of 16, James R. Lancaster from Georgia joined Company A of the 19th Arkansas Infantry fighting for the Confederacy. He and his older brother were captured during the battle at Island No. 10 and then sent to a prisoner of war camp.
The other side of our family did not support the cause. As you can imagine this was not a popular point of view in their hometown. In defiance of his neighbors, John C. Tompkins joined the 1st Alabama Cavalry, a small but important group of union soldiers. According to one general, "I am largely indebted to the activity and gallantry of the 1st Ala Cav in procuring information for me about General John B. Hood's movements in NE Georgia and NW Alabama.”
After the war the Tompkins and the Lancasters moved to Texas leaving behind their old lives. But did they? Emma Tompkins received a pension from the United States of America for John C.’s service to his country. The Lancasters did not. Instead, James R. carried the memory of watching his brother die in a union POW camp.
This should have been the end of the tale. But it isn’t. In a classic twist, the children from these two disparate families fell in love and married. Romeo and Juliet are revisited once again. However, this story doesn’t end when the stage curtain falls. For a child came of this marriage and from him came other children who suffered the consequences of “Two households, both alike in dignity . . . from ancient grudge break to new mutiny.”
I can only imagine the animosity that bubbled under the surface. There were no family accounts of the quarrel. But children always know when there’s bad blood even if no one talks about it. To finally understand what caused this division of families is the morning’s research gift.
Discovering the war records of these two men means that I now understand what I did not know before. It’s what has driven me to spend countless hours in the search for my family’s history. It almost makes it worth giving up meals and life. With this mystery solved, maybe now I can remember how to stay focused in my ordinary conversations. I doubt it. There’s always those Gahns, and their mysteries are even more intriguing.