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“Families are like branches on a tree. We grow in different directions, yet our roots remain as one.”
– Unknown
Dec. 25, 2023
Dear Sarah and Luke, Congratulations. Your Dec. 23 wedding was beautiful. I wish you two the best of God’s blessings that life has to offer.
With this letter, Sarah, I’m finally doing something your mother suggested when you and Haven graduated from high school. To write each of you a letter. I never got around to doing that for a number of reasons, all pitiful excuses. And, I’m sorry that I didn’t.
But when I learned you were getting married, the idea of the letter came to mind. This time, with a specific thought in mind. Writers can be a little quirky like that. So, we can now tell your mother that I am finally doing what she once suggested. Kind of. Just a little later. She will probably smile. Because she knows her father is a little quirky like that.
With a bit of luck, perhaps I can mark future occasions in the lives of your brothers and sisters with a letter from Grandpa Leon.
As I told you at the wedding, I have a letter my grandfather wrote to my mother on the occasion of her marriage.
Your father, being the good man and loving parent I know him to be, has likely offered you similar advice. From a family historical perspective, I simply wanted to share advice offered almost 80 years ago by another father in your family. Plus, it will make your mother smile. Again, because she knows how I am about family history.
When I remember where I filed it, which will hopefully happen before your first anniversary, I will give you a copy.
The letter was written by Arthur G. Johnson, your great-great-grandfather on my mother’s side. He was born and reared in Kentucky, and lived most of his life in Winchester. He was college-educated and was a school teacher and principal. His daughter, who became my mother and your great-grandmother, was born Indianola Johnson in 1923 in Winchester. She was the oldest sibling in her family. She had three sisters and one brother who lived to adulthood and one brother who passed away at a young age.
In 1944, she married my father, Leon Aldridge, making him your great-grandfather “to be.” He was the last of 13 children, and his mother died giving birth to him. He was born in Doyle, La., and raised in Pittsburg, Texas, by his biological uncle and wife. He never knew them as anything other than “mom and dad.” Likewise, they were grandmother and granddaddy to my sisters and me.
My mother was the first of her siblings to marry. She did that by traveling to Texas, where they were married at the Pittsburg Methodist Church parsonage just a few days before he shipped out for combat duty in Europe with the U.S. Army 276th Combat Engineers during World War II. She lived in Pittsburg with my father’s parents until he returned the following year.
They were married for 62 years until my father passed away in April of 2007.
Family was important to Arthur Johnson, who, with his wife Bernice, raised their children in a large two-story home that still stands today at 382 South Main in Winchester, Kentucky.
When I first read the letter, I tried to fathom the emotion with which my mother’s father penned it, knowing his oldest child was following her husband-to-be 800 miles from home to Texas to marry just days before her new husband would leave. For how long, she had no idea. To fight in a war. One from which many husbands and fathers did not return.
In the letter, he wished his daughter love and happiness, encouraging her to do four things:
• Stay true to God.
• Stay true to your husband.
• Stay true to yourself.
• Stay close to family.
Arthur Johnson’s children took the advice of staying close to family to heart. Although they settled from Ohio to Texas to California, they had family reunions every summer in Kentucky. Really — every summer. Without fail. Some driving days to attend.
Those reunions are precious childhood memories for me. I have a generation of cousins who are more like brothers and sisters.
Today, two of Mom’s siblings remain. Uncle Bill, the youngest, turned 88 this year. Aunt Jo is 93. My generation continues the tradition with some degree of success. We meet in Kentucky every five years or so and in Abilene for other years. Because that is where Uncle Bill and Aunt Jo live.
Your mom and dad have created a beautiful family with values and a bond like none I have ever known. I suspect there may be a bit of Arthur Johnson’s heritage there somewhere. I once asked your mom, an incredible woman in so many ways, “Robin, how did you do that? You sure didn’t learn it from me?”
She just smiled. Like she always has. Because she knows her father.
Much love to you and Luke. And Happy New Year!
Grandpa Leon
