A vegetable peeler came between me and my sister. We didn’t speak to one another for twenty five years. The photograph of Christian Washington using the instrument of our separation still sits on my kitchen counter. Neither of us had ever met Mr. Washington yet he is the link to our families’ heritage. In the black and white photo taken sometime in the mid nineteen thirties, Mr. Washington sits atop a bucket peeling potatoes into a large pot. The graying temples give his black complexion depth and his smile dances not just at the corners of his mouth but also in his eyes. His white apron hangs loosely around his neck and drapes down covering his lap. A round clock with a silver band enclosing a white face hangs on the wall behind him above the bar. Behind the bar off in the distance and a bit out of focus stands my grandmother, Hazel Williamson. My grandmother and grandfather were the proud proprietors of the Victory Bar in St. Louis Missouri.
My Grandmother passed away in 1983. She worked hard all of her life until the day she died. Living through the depression, Grandma was frugal to the core. She would rather die than hire someone to do any work around her house and that is exactly what happened. My grandfather had passed fifteen years prior to my grandmother in a fire. He was working in his garage when an explosion rocked the separate detached building. He was unable to find a clear path out. Since that time, my grandmother took care of everything. She was a strong woman. Her last task on this earth was to patch a hole in the roof. Her heart had had enough.
Not much was known (if anything at all) of Mr. Washington until my sister and I went through the old cedar trunk left by my beloved Grandmother.
…….to be continued.
