Thanksgiving Day

I was reminded Thanksgiving day of a 14 year tradition we celebrated every Thanksgiving when my son was born.

My son, Robert Lee McLeod IV, had just had his first birthday. We were planning to have Thanksgiving dinner at my parents home in McClellan Park area of Sarasota, not far from where the first post office was.

As is still common along the Gulf Coast, the newspapers carry photos and articles of generations who come together for the holidays.  But just as common is the fact that many are celebrating the family having moved here "way back " in the 1950's or 60's. Prior to that, their families lived in Ohio, New York or Michigan, to name a few.

So I had the idea that our family history was just as interesting.  After all, my third great grandfather had moved his mother, wife, four children and a few other relatives  from Camden, South Carolina, in 1828 to homestead the area in north Florida called the Euchee Valley (near DeFuniak Sprngs).

My great great grandfather left the homestead after the Civil War and moved to the Bradenton area in 1868. My great grandfather was born there, on the banks of the Manatee River  in 1892.  W.C. & his wife Agnes (Big Momma) had an only child, Robert L. McLeod Sr.  My dad, Robert Jr., was born in Sarasota in 1932. I was Robert the third, born there in 1953, and my son was born in 1981. So we started the tradition of taking a picture at Thanksgiving of the four Robert L.'s.  Sometimes we were out in the piney woods on my granddad's property near Cooper Creek.  Most of the time it was at my parents home.

So without remorse I contacted the Sarasota Herald Tribune to see if they wanted an article for the social section.  A photographer came to the house Thanksgiving day about mid-morning, took a few pictures, listened to some family stories and wrote a very pleasant article about some "real" Sarasota history.

Our last picture was when my son turned 14.  My granddad had not been doing extremely well since my Granny passed away a couple of years before.  But we all got together on the driveway  under the huge live oak at my Dad's and snapped the picture.  Eleven months later the last of my grandparents was gone, an entire generation, GONE. I remember that being a wake up call to me that we have to preserve this rich heritage for the generations to come. A character like my grandpa had too rich and wild a life not to chronicle.

Happy Thanksgiving!
Rob

When Do You Realize You're A "Cracker?"

I don't know for sure when it happened, when I first realized I was a Cracker. Mostly because it has always been a part of me. I have never had to find my Cracker self - it's who I am!

I mean that for some who are drawn into a realization of just how unique things really were,  they come to a point where they think, "Wow, they were really different in pioneer Florida."  For me, that realization was ingrained into our family members through stories, jokes, tales, and recollections  to the point that we always knew we were the fabric that made up Florida Crackers.

We knew we were part of a larger culture that was our family, friends, kinfolk, and locals that were not those who moved here from Chicago, New York, or even Atlanta.  My daddy knew their daddy and our great grandparents went to school together just a few miles from where I and my children would go to school.

I learned this when my wife and I were renting our first home from a family I had attended school with from first grade through high school.  We met the great grandmother of this friend, "Biggie" (who by the way was 90lbs. soaking wet). She told me she went to school with my great grandfather. She continued to say that he was pretty much a rascal that made all the kids laugh. Mrs. McClelland's family had moved down from Alabama in the mid-1800's due to her mother's asthma. She still had a cowhide stool that was brought down in the covered wagon.

This is the kind of thing that has made me realize the uniqueness of Florida Cracker culture.  Please share any stories that have been handed down through your families.

Thanks a bunch!
Rob

What Is This?

I have a desire to leave a record for my children, grandchildren and those who will come after us. A record of where our ancestors and relations have come from. What their lives were  like.  I want to leave an explanation for the dash between "Born" and "Died".

I want people who come to this site thinking it is about country bumpkins, yayhoos or rednecks  to be educated as to a wonderful, unique culture that has existed for hundreds of years in the swamps and praries, hammocks and bayheads, and the beaches and piney woods of Florida.

I dedicate this to to my great great great grandfather, William McLeod, who moved his family to north Florida from South Carolina in 1828. This is for my family and any others who connect here to share their heritage, their "Cracker" heritage.

What this IS NOT: this is not a forum to attack, tear down or in anyway belittle any individuals or groups. Please keep this site positive, historical, and honoring.  I will!