History Leads to Understanding

When we were children we were so excited to spend time with my mother's parents. They were so very loving and giving, especially my grandmother. We lived with them or near them in my early years and often I adored them both. My father's parents lived in Louisiana which was far way from Maryland. We only went there twice to visit although we did make trips to Florida at other times and sometimes saw Dad's Aunt Ella or her daughter, Trudie Poston Bryant and her family. Dad's parents were very different. They didn't like it when we were just being normal kids and my grandfather was shy and not comfortable showing or receiving affection. We called them Nanie and Pops. Now that I understand the history of their lives, I understand. I only wish I had known then what I know now. About 1978 Dad built a new home and put a large apartment for his parents who were getting older. He went down and packed them up from Alexandria, Louisiana and moved them to New Jersey where they had family. It was a huge adjustment for all of us. I got to know them both so much better and it was really sad when Pops developed lung cancer after being here only about three years.I spent the last weeks of his life in his hospital room and despite my Dad's order not to tell him what was wrong I promised him I would tell him the truth and I did. My grandmother didn't want him to know what was wrong with him. He never let on that he knew.

This is a picture of Dad with his parents sometime after he joined the Navy. What I learned about Jacob Mason Mancil 1900-1980 was that he had one difficult childhood. His mother was shot and killed in their home when he was about 13. I learned after his death that his brother George, 8 witnessed the killing. It makes me wonder if "Jake" witnessed it to. He was a very nervous person. Within a few short months he and his brother were sent to live with other family members and never attended school again. They knew who had killed their mother, it was their sister Ruby's husband, Angus Graham. Ruby remained with him for several years. They had older sisters and I have wondered why none of them took their young brothers in. I now realize the sisters were pretty young too. His father was in his fifties and married a woman about twenty. They had four more children. I'm not sure how many times Jake saw his father after that but he never spoke of him, as he did his mother. He thought his mother's real name was Carolyn and her nickname was Callie but that doesn't seem to be so. He had a younger sister also named Callie. The good news is that he joined the Navy and the Army. He learned a trade, being an x ray technician. He married someone from his hometown, or nearby, Birddie Belle Kinard and they had a son, my father. They owned a home on Eastwood Blvd. for many years and had a nice large apartment in their final years. They are buried in Tennent Cemetery, a historical cemetery and will be surrounded by their son's family. My grandmother, Birddie Belle Kinard learned to be tough in her twenties if not before. She often spoke of her mother's small plantation and home. Years after the Civil War, people who had been slaves stayed on with them. They had grown up with them and she said they were very fond of each other. Nanie had met Jake Mancil and married him and they had just one son, James Walker Mancil. When her son was quite young her mother had two young girls and never recovered from the birth of the last. Her mother got pneumonia and Nanie took her son and went and stayed with her for several months. When her mother died she told me of having her body in a casket in the parlor. Folks came from all over and they had a huge meal set up. Her mother, Mollie Poston Kinard was a religious and well loved woman. My grandmother went home to Louisiana and a short time later came back to visit her baby sisters. She found them wandering around and her older brothers didn't seem to know how to care for them. She took them with her when she left. Her father was still around but at some point relocated to Texas where he worked for Gulf Oil. He lost touch with all his family at some point and many years later my grandmother received a call and went and got him from Texas and took him into her home to live until he died many years later. Nanie was a pillar of her church community. She had a taste for fine things and often spoke of the lovely house she grew up in with it's pocket doors. Her husband wanted her to be happy and she had Lenox china (which I now have), an antique grandfather clock and many other nice things. I am priviledged to have the clock and her gas lamps that were electrified. I also have the pictures of both her and Pops' mothers hanging in my wall. I love them. My point is that like my grandfather, my grandmother knew hardship. Imagine being a twenty some year old bride with a young son and you have to take care of your dying mother and two young sisters. Imagine having to watch three young children, being in your early twenties and grieving your mother's loss. It must have been quite hard. The saddest part is that although she tried to watch over her baby sisters they both ended up dying young. I believe both were alcohol related deaths.She outlived all her siblings, although she was the oldest. I know now she had to be tough to survive it all. She often said that the worst heartbreak was watching her mother die. This is a picture of Nanie in the middle and her baby sister on the right, Mary Ann and on her left, Dorothy, two years older than Mary Ann.

Now I understand you so much better, Nanie and Pops. You did the best you could.