Making Progress

A few weeks ago I typed letters to everyone in Alabama who had the name Joseph Kinard. I knew that my Uncle Joe Kinard (he is listed on some documents as Joseph Lee but his gravestone says Joe F.) had two sons, Frank and Adolph. I couldn't find anything on Adolph after he turned about 7. I began to wonder if perhaps he changed his name. When I sent letters to the Kinards I found I included a Joseph A. in Mobile, Alabama. Sure enough, about ten days later I got a letter back from his son. During the war he had been teased about his name and started to use his late father Joe's name instead. Here is what I learned from Joe's son, now also called Joe. His father had hired someone to help him on the farm (which was in Flomaton, Alabama. His parents were buying the farm paying his grandfather for it I believe. His Dad was just 27 years old and went to confront the hired hand as someone reported to him that he had been selling the corn feed for the cattle to others which Joe had bought for his cattle. When he arrived it appeared someone had warned him and he was waiting with a shotgun. Younger Joe said that his father was shot in the chest but survived for awhile. He made his way into a cattle trailer but fell out and was injured during the fall. His mother told him his father was probably fatally injured during that fall. The farm hand was arrested and served a prison sentence but Joe couldn't remember his name. Joe tells me life was really hard for him just under 2, Frank 3 1/2 and his mother, Ervie. She took them for awhile to her father's. After awhile she dropped them off at an orphanage and turned up years later remarried. This happened a few times. When he was with his mother and step-father living in Pensacola, Florida he met several of his Dad's family members. He spoke fondly of Uncle Shug (nicknamed Sugar Boy) and his daughter, Virgie. He told me of visits with my grandparents. My Dad was out to sea by then. Talking to Joe was like being with my Dad and his parents again. They use the same phrases and have the same take on things. It was so comforting. Joe is my first cousin once removed. I finally got him to send me a picture. He is now 78 years old. He looks exactly like his grandfather whom we call Papaw. Ironically, Joe does not remember him as he was so young when he last saw him. I do remember him and we talk of him. It's hard to understand why Papaw did the things he did. He never watched out for his son's family. His son was just 27 when he was killed. I wonder if this is because he lost his wife when she was just 38 and he was severely depressed, perhaps never fully getting over that loss. I do not this for certain, I am so happy to have found Joe. I plan to make my way down to the Alabama/Pensacola area sometime this Spring if I can. I want to get my arms around Joe. He has lost all his family except for one son. He is so happy to have some family again. If anyone needs a good hug, I think he does.