Some Brief Remembrances by His Granddaughter, Hazel Alice Williams-Robbins-Gravel Hazel Alice Williams-Robbins-Gravel (Dictated to her daughter, Tina Robbins-Coonce) Marion, Illinois, 2001
In the year I was nine, my grandfather, Lafe Williams entered my life. My father, Jack Williams, had not seen his father since he was two years old, and suddenly the old man showed up and stayed for a whole year.
Not much was known about him except that he was born in Arkansas around 1853. He married my grandmother, Mary Alice Cline-Rivers, in 1886, and my dad was born a year later. Two years after that Lafe abandoned her with three children. (She also had two little girls by a previous marriage.)
While Lafe was staying with us my dad hated him and wouldn’t even speak to him, but my mother was nice to him.
He had some form of gout or rheumatism, which caused a painful leg condition. I remember one occasion at the table when he kicked it and started yelling in pain. We kids thought it was funny and began to laugh at him. The only emotion my dad showed was to simply say to my mother, You need to teach them kids some manners!But even at 73 Lafe had considerable carpentry skills, and used them to build us a toilet, a barn, and an outbuilding. Were we ever proud of those!
Unfortunately, at 73 Lafe also molested his grandchildren – both my brother and me. When I tried to tell my parents about it, my mother didn’t believe me. She responded by saying, don’t make up stories like that, Hazel!
As a victim of the abuse, all I can say today is, I’d like to forget that old booger’s name, but it keeps sticking up right in my eye!
But when Grandfather Lafe came - he did bring something wonderful with him - he owned a car! It was the first one we had ever seen, and we thought it was magnificent. He even let my parents take us on a marvelous outing in it - 50 miles to Grangeville - where we spent the night in a hotel. What a magical experience!
The next day when we arrived back in Elk City, Lafe carefully checked out his automobile for any scratches. Sometime after that, he transported a man to town in his car, and when he returned, we kids carefully checked out the car for any scratches ...
After his year with us, Lafe returned to Grangeville and died there. When my dad heard the news, he came out into the field where we playing and told us about it. Stoically he instructed us, now I don’t want you younguns grieving. You don’t grieve for old people. We tried to look appropriately sad but after Dad walked away, we just howled with laughter.
One incident involving my grandfather still makes me feel embarrassed today. My one-room mountain school held a special birdhouse contest. Each student was to build and enter one to be judged. Somehow it was decided that Lafe would build my birdhouse, and I would have to place it with the other children’s honest entries. I remember the shame I felt as I carried it down the road toward school; I could hear them laughing about their cleverness like it was a big joke.
April 7, 2001
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