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
Great job son. I guess we should have recorded some of the stories your Great Grand Pa (known by family and close friends as "City Guy")used to tell about sailing up an down the gulf coast of
ReplyDeleteof Florida on a gaff rigged schooner trading fresh fruit and vegetables for turtle meat and other seafoods. Perhaps about the cedar mill that was located on the Bradenton River.