George Rogers Sr., 1877-1960 known as Poppy to his 8 grandchildren |
I'm standing on one leg in flowery dress with my Grandmother (Gummy) and Poppy (George Rogers Sr.) and it says on the back it's on his 73rd birthday. I had no idea he had been so old...But I don't look anywhere near 8 for this picture, so I think I'm more like 5 or 6, and thus Poppy was just 70. Houston, TX.
Poppy lived through the Galveston Hurricane of 1900, which killed thousands. I am not exaggerating, I think 6000 was the number I read in this book, A Weekend in September.
This book is in my possession, and my grandmother (who also lived through the storm) made notes in the margins as to who she had known. This was before they married in 1905.
The house my grandfather built in Galveston, Texas.
This is likely the last time I saw Poppy, around 1958 or 1959. He is on the left, next to me around 15-16, my father then his brother Jimmy, in the front row. Back row on left is my mother, and to right is my grandmother. This was our house in St. Ann, MO. Poppy and Gummy were visiting from Houston, and uncle Jimmy from Wausau, WI.
Poppy and Gummy, 1955, Houston, TX. Poppy was a bookkeeper, working for a meat packing plant in Houston. I don't know when he retired. But I'm pretty sure he was still going to work at an advanced age. He supported his family of 4 sons who grew to adulthood, after losing his firstborn, as well as his only daughter at young ages.
Scroll down to bottom of next picture.
Some fun with George Rogers' sons, before they were married. My father on right, Poppy on left. The Rogers family lived in Galveston for a long time, then Fort Worth, then San Antonio, and finally Houston. My grandfather and his son Chauncey built a house for Chauncey on the same lot as his home on Brockton, in Houston.
My mother on swing, while expecting me, and Gummy laughing at Poppy clowning around. I do remember Poppy having a great sense of humor.
Three surviving brothers at the cemetery following the death of their father, Feb. 1960 in Houston. My father, George Jr, then Chauncey, then James.
I didn't realize that Poppy had died. We lived in St. Louis at the time. There was a kind of taboo of talking about death in our family. It wasn't explained as a heaven or hell either. There really wasn't any supportive talk for grieving. Actually, I had the sense that (which is probably more personal than actual) death was a failure, thus something to whisper about and then not mention again. It was similar to what I later learned people in medical professions would feel when they'd done everything they could to save a life, then lost the battle.
Poppy died in February of the year I graduated from High School. I also remember my mother's mother died the same year. My parents had a lot of sadness that year.
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There is today, more than ever, the need for a compassionate regenerative world civilization.