[Granville-Hough] 24 Mar 2009 - Thoughts on the Long Goodby

[Trustees for Granville W. Hough]

Date: Tue, 24 Mar 2009 06:49:30 -0800
From: Granville W Hough <gwhough at oakapple.net>
Subject: Thoughts on the Long Goodby -24 Mar 2009


A few Sundays ago, one of our ministers gave a sermon on the "Slow
Fade."  It had to do with waning faith and gradual acceptance of worldly
viewpoints, but the term "slow fade" struck me as applicable to the
"Long Goodby" which I had used to describe the emotions of the Caretaker
for an Alzheimer's patient.  I had sent the following to one of our
Hough cousins about 2001 after his wife had passed away.  (My wife Carol
passed away 17 Aug 2003.)
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I was very touched by your message on the anniversary of your wife's
passing, as I, of course, face this event in the foreseeable future.
I want to share a few excerpts of what I found in an article in 1841-42
by J. F. H. Claiborne in "A Trip Through the Piney Woods," the Southern
Mississipi land of our forefathers, and who then were still living in
the area.  This was originally published serially in the "Natchez Free
Trader and Gazette," 1841-42.
        "...We have returned to our post, after a delightful tour through the
whole tier of counties lying between this and Alabama...In the eastern
counties, hospitality is a primitive and cardinal virtue,...and the
customs of Virginia and Carolina still prevail,... untainted by social
refinements....But little is known in this portion of the State of the
(GWH current) conditions, manners and resources of the East..."
        Then, after describing Lawrence, Covington, and Jones counties,
Claiborne's party left Ellisville in Jones County for Perry county to
the south.  We pick up his narrative there. "Sent the night with Mr.
Sumrall, one of the oldest and worthiest men in the state.  (GWH, there
is a town named Sumrall in his honor.  At my brother Harold Hough's
funeral, I spoke
with Sumrall Cooley, an old family friend and neighbor named for this
man and likely a descendant.)  He (Mr Sumrall) has lived here ever since the
settlement of the county.  Everything around him looked superannuated
and solitary.  The trees had an aged aspect and were gnarled and mossy.
An old house dog bayed a melancholy notice of our approach.  His antique
but spacious dwelling was weather-beaten and decayed.  The garden had
grown up in weeds and the shrubbery that had once been nursed there by
the hand of beauty looked stunted and neglected.  Even the faithful rose
vine which clings so long to the deserted dwelling and blooms over the
graves of those of those that loved it in life was already in 'the sere
and yellow leaf'.  The innocent bosoms on which its clustered buds used
to repose were long since gone; and there it lay as if conscious of
widowhood, its tendrils broken and 'wasting its fragrance on the desert
air'.  There too in the soft light of a July moon musing alone over the
memories of the past, sat the fine old man, his head frosted-over with
wintry years but his eye still beaming with benevolence.  He had raised
a highly respectable family of children...had endowed them with enough
of this world's goods, and they were gone to distant settlements.  (GWH,
distant settlements were to the North, in the lands of the Choctaw
Cession in barely organized counties of Smith, Jasper, and Clarke
counties and others northward.)  He was left alone.  A few months
previous to our visit he had buried the aged partner of his bosom and
now felt the curse of solitude.  They err who suppose that age, though
it dims the eye and shakes the nerves, can freeze the heart or weaken
the affections.  It is not so! Youth...all glowing as it is...sooner
forgets the images of love.  New scenes...impressions...balm the wounded
soul, and ambition or gain distil the waters of Lethe oer its
afflictions.  But in an old age, when the dear ones of the fireside have
wandered off like bees from the parent hive; when neither office nor
wealth have charms and nothing remains but memories of early joy and the
enduring companionship of years... the blow that severs this and calls
one away forever, strikes the survivor also.  This indeed is death; for
in the dim future there is no smile.  The old can then but count the
weary hours of their pilgrimage and the soul waits, like an impatient
bird, to wing its flight to heaven.  It was thus we found our venerable
friend...a man without an enemy, almost without a fault...an humble
Christian and a genuine Democrat."
        When I read this, it brought tears to my eyes.  I know Mr. Sumrall's
feelings as I see my wife go through strokes and minor brain episodes.
There is a long goodby coming, and only our faith can sustain us.  Every
caretaker of an Alzheimer spouse faces this long good-by. When
I read your message, I know you are there.  Our forefathers, Sumrall,
Hough, West, Gieger, et al, had the same feelings we have.  I guess we
must ask
ourselves: What do we do with the rest of our lives?  We must have a
purpose: perhaps to die without an enemy, to be an humble Christian, and
to live as a genuine believer in the collective wisdom of humanity.  In 
the present political environment, I might qualify as a "genuine Democrat."
        Perhaps you should take the job offer in Georgia which I believed you
mentioned.  You are not yet as old as Mr. Sumrall, or even as I.  More I
cannot say.  Your cousin, Granville.