Family Stories

Special thanks to all of you who have sent notes or called to say that we're in your prayers. Grandpa was an amazing man, and will be missed. It 'makes sense' that Emmet died on Easter; both because Grandma died on Christmas ('92), but also because James Emmet Coleman looked forward to the resurrection more than anyone that I know. Resurrection Sunday was the perfect day for him to go home.

As some of you may know, my mom and I compiled a series of Grandpa's favorite stories in a little booklet with some photos (both past and present). Since some of you may have only met Emmet, I've decided to put parts of this compilation here over the next few weeks. It certailny is better than most of the other stuff on the internet (or in this blog, for that matter).

This won't be a regular thing... just something that I'll do self indulgently when I need to remember.

Here's the introduction to the collection that I wrote in 2001:

As a child, I can still remember crawling up on my “Pee Paw’s” lap to hear a story– some of those moments even became stories themselves (although thankfully, they have been reserved for another book). I can even now hear him saying, “Well sir….” and winding into an evening of history lessons, family legacy, and memories from his life. The great thing is that I would only have to ask for one story… as you’ll be able to tell in reading these, the plot of one tale would lead to several “Incidentally”s, which were like cracks on a windshield… they just branched out and grew and grew. Before anyone would realize it, the mantle clock would be ringing bedtime, and my brothers and I would have to head upstairs for the night. As frustrating as that was (the end of the stories as well as our bedtime), we could always rely on another journey along the Panama Canal Zone, or the ‘Hollers’ or the shores of the Galapagos Islands for the next night.

As I grew older, these stories became even more important– as I would go with Grandpa to meet some of the people in them, and hear them verified; or as I would tell them myself during college late-nighters when we would talk about our families. There was something about these accounts that drew me home– and I looked forward to my Spring Break visits to West Virginia as a place to re-connect and find solace. This simpler time is one that many today seem to long for; and in some of these stories I hope they can find it.

One of the many things I remember about my grandmother is her gift in quilt making– taking scraps of fabric and sewing them into beautiful and warm heirlooms for family and friends. My grandfather, I guess, created quilts too– of words and stories, random bits of humor and heritage, sewn together in a way that continues to bring warmth to the people he loves.