Granddaddy, Willie Jones, was born in 1914 in Jasper, Florida. He came from a large farming family. Granddaddy farmed, but he eventually went to work for MacArthur Dairy down in Hollywood, Florida. Granddaddy and Granny moved between Hollywood and McAlpin in the early years, and they eventually moved to Okeechobee when the dairy moved there. I always found it interesting that Granddaddy and his brother, my Uncle Van, married sisters (Reatha and Lucy Skinner, respectively), so my momma had a set of "double-cousins."
Granddaddy was a person who was everybody's friend. He never met a stranger, and he didn't care what place a person had in society--he approached everyone on his or her own merits. I have never heard anyone speak ill of Willie Jones. He was a man who was universally loved and respected.
Willie and Reatha Jones and unknown dairy owner ready to take a flight c. 1933
Granddaddy was a great story teller. I still don't know which of his stories are true and which are not. He told me about his stint in the Army. First, he never thought he'd be drafted because he was married, a farmer, and in his 30's, but he was called and he served. He described taking the train from Scotland down to Southeast England and how beautiful it was. His dream was to make that trip again one day, but he never was able to do so. As far as the fighting, it sounded like a grand adventure! He was in reconnaissance, and he said it was just like hunting squirrels. To Granny's dismay (as the Joneses were officially teetotalers), he told the kids about hiding in the cellar of an old French house and drinking up the cognac they found there.
It's the little things that made time with Granddaddy so special. I loved to sit at the breakfast table with him and watch him eat his breakfast. The same thing almost every day: two over-easy eggs, grits, toast, bacon, and a cup of coffee. He'd put the eggs on the grits and pop the yolks, then use the toast to sop up every bite. He "saucered" his coffee--he'd pour a little coffee into the saucer and then sip it. Granddaddy would sit in his chair to watch game shows like "Concentration," "Truth or Consequences," and "Jeopardy." I'd sit on the floor between his knees, and we'd watch and play the game shows together. He was a teaser! He'd slip his feet out of his house shoes and pinch my legs with his toes. "Jeopardy" with Art Fleming was one of his favorite shows--he knew almost all the answers. Granddaddy wasn't an educated man; he never finished high school. But, he was an intelligent man, who loved to read. He passed that love of reading to my mom, and she passed it to me, and I to my kids.
He could frustrate us grandkids too. If any one of us would complain, "I'm thirsty!"; he'd answer, "I'm Bill Jones. Nice to meet you." Granddaddy had this whole rhyming sequence he'd have us repeat, and it ended like this: "Rooty Toot" "Rooty Toot" "Onion Soup" "Onion Soup" "Hit me" "Hit me" And then he'd tap us. "Why did you hit me?" "You just asked me to." I think he did that with every grandchild--starting with me.
There was another side of Granddaddy as well. He was a man of great faith. I remember his reading his Bible every day. Sometimes I'd see him napping on his bed, he had fallen asleep while reading his Bible and the Bible would be open on his chest. At meals, he would always say the prayer. We would all fold our hands, bow our heads, and wait. Granddaddy prayed so softly, it really was difficult to hear him. Someone would have to say a loud "AMEN" so we would know when to begin eating. One of my uncles asked him why did he have to pray so softly, and Granddaddy just replied, "I'm talking to God--not you. He hears me just fine."
My most precious memory of Granddaddy was when I took my son, the first great-grandchild, down to Okeechobee to meet him and Granny. Granny called out to him and he came shuffling as fast as he could down the hall to meet my son. The smile on his face and the tears of joy in his eyes are something I will never forget. My mommy and daddy never saw their grandchild, but Granddaddy's joy in him was all I needed.
My most precious memory of Granddaddy was when I took my son, the first great-grandchild, down to Okeechobee to meet him and Granny. Granny called out to him and he came shuffling as fast as he could down the hall to meet my son. The smile on his face and the tears of joy in his eyes are something I will never forget. My mommy and daddy never saw their grandchild, but Granddaddy's joy in him was all I needed.
I miss my Granddaddy. He was the sunshine of our family--funny, smiling, gentle, faithful, kind, loving. A little piece of him and his values are in every child, grandchild, and great-grandchild. He's been in heaven over thirty years now, and I know I will see him again one day, but I still miss him. I miss the teasing. I miss the pinches. I miss the smell of snuff on his breath. I miss his smile that reached all the way to his eyes. I miss seeing him reading his Bible. And I miss those quiet mealtime prayers. I'll always love you, Granddaddy!
Descendents of Willie and Reatha Jones, Oct 2014
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