Amos Moses

My sister is turning 50.  She's significantly younger than I am, so how could that be?

Amy is a truly wonderful person.  With husband Tim, they have raised two amazing girls, one off which is just graduated and will attend an ivy league school in the fall.  But this isn't about what a great mom she is.

Always involved in church throughout her life, Amy does everything from keeping the books to singing in the choir.  She does fundraisers, missions work, and bible study.  She's proud of her God, embraces true Christianity, and inspires those around her.  But this isn't about what a great Christian she is.

In the last few years, Amy and her clan have gotten involved in Theatre West Virginia and has been a part of Honey and the Rock, Hatfields and McCoys, a longtime classic as well as other shows.  This troupe has been active since before she was born.  This year, in addition to Hatfields and McCoys, she is taking on Annie.  But this isn't about what a great actress she is.


Back in the mid 1970s, when I was bedridden or had to be in a

wheelchair, Amy took care of me.  She entertained me, pushed the wheelchair, fetched things at my request, and was a great caregiver  Many decades later, she tirelessly helped care for our grandmother, who was in a nursing home after a series of strokes.  Many times per week (sometimes every day) Amy would visit, rub lotion on Gram's aging skin, tidy up errant facial hair and gently brush the baby fine hair Gram was so proud of.  But this isn't about what a great caregiver she is.

So what IS it about?  It's about a woman who has come of age.  Something happens to women around age 50.  We get a more peaceful, wiser, more astute attitude.  We stop fretting over how we look (well, most of us anyway) or how much money we make and start to actually enjoy life.  It's her time.  It's her time to file away all that has gone before and start taking all what is ahead.  It's a time of forgiving, for letting others help more, and for discovering herself in a completely different light.

I'm so excited for her journey.  Turning 50 was a highlight in my life, and I know it will be for her as well.  Today, July 25, 2019, is her birthday.  Aside from Teddy Kennedy pleading guilty to leaving the scene of an accident in Chappaquiddick, and all the excitement of space travel, the birth of Amy Elizabeth Pyatt Taylor was the single most important event globally.

So why is this titled Amos Moses?  Well you'll have to ask her.

PS  JLo turned 50 yesterday too. '69 was a stellar year!

Aging Clumsily

I've known a lot of people who have aged gracefully.  Even my mom, who doesn't do a whole lot of things gracefully, bless her heart, ages gracefully.

I'm more like my dad's mom.  On those few occasions when I acknowledge that I am aging, it's because my kids have done something wonderful and I'm beaming with pride;  or my granddaughter does anything at all.  The rest of the time I just get older kicking and screaming.

It's not because I fear death or have any regrets.  No unfinished business for me really, and I've had a truly amazing life.  There isn't much on my bucket list and the experiences I've had are superb.  They are, however, sometimes superbly horrible.  That's life.  You have to shake it off and wake up the next day and do it again.  Others are completely unbelievable.  From working with celebrities to having a son at 39, my life has been more interesting than anyone else I've ever known.  I'm grateful for that.  I'm also grateful for those who walk with me through both the good and the bad.

Most of the time I just ignore aging.  My aches and pains have not been (yet) simply from an aging body.  My memory issues aren't from menopause or senility.  That makes it easy to "forget" that I am not by anyone's definition, young.

I'm 57 years old, turning 58 in late November.  I had to do the math, because I generally can't easily think of my actual age.  If I had to choose, I think I'm somewhere in my early 40's in my mind.  Embracing the wisdom, agile enough to enjoy it.  It's been relatively easy since having a late life baby.  He's kept me young a long time.

Now, all my kids are adults.  I have a granddaughter and another on the way.  I have a fair bit of professional respect, and have earned it in a mostly male dominated field.  Twice.  I've lived in two countries, been to four, and visited more historic sites than I can even count.  I've seen stars and ghosts.  I've won big and lost big.  I prefer the former.

So now that there aren't a lot of goals for me, I've been finding it difficult to keep growing.  That isn't, however, what inspired this missive.  I read today that a woman I knew when she was a child, practically from birth, was killed in a car accident.  Her dad was the town pharmacist, her mom was a local theater star, and the whole family was VERY involved in our church.  Alan, Betsy, Lisa, Martha, Chad, and Matt Reynolds were the very fabric of our little town.  Lisa's sudden, tragic death has hit me very hard.

I stole this from Martha's Facebook

I'm used to people older than me dying.  Losing my dad in January sort of caused me to let go of that "elderly" generation, even though I still very much grieve.  Dying over the age of 70 seems natural.  I'm used to babies dying.  I've lost two, so when I hear of someone losing a child under two, I can let go of that too, even though it hurts.  Someone my kids' age I haven't often had to deal with so I pretty much don't give it any thought.

Lisa, however, was in my sister's age group.  These were kids I knew, and sometimes babysat or taught in Sunday School.  I can clearly remember them in elementary school, and have watched as they got degrees, spouses, children, confidence, independence.  These are people at the top of their game; the best time of life.  Their own kids are graduating, marrying, having children, seeing huge successes and devastating losses.  They are, by and large, in their early 40's--right where my own brain thinks I am.  My empathy is in overdrive.

Lisa is gone.  The heartbreak for her friends and family is unfathomable.

I really don't have anything else to say just now, so I will end here.  Hug your tribe.

Childhood Memories-Dad's Family

Today I spent many hours "tidying up" some genealogy work on my dad's family tree.  As I was adding siblings, dates, husbands, and the like for the scores of collateral lines, it brought back vivid memories.  So many of these people are long dead, but I knew them fairly well through my own parents and grandparents.

My dad was born in a little town in western West Virginia.  So were both his parents.  Their collective parents were born in a nearby county, and the lines go back to Virginia and Ohio for many more generations.  Because of my small town upbringing, I was often around great aunts and uncles, and more cousins than I can even remember.  I'm still in contact with many of those in my generation, and my daughters know many of the "once removed" cousins -children of my cousins.

Mildred Gorrell Pyatt Wetzel

My great grandma Rachel Miller Gorrell and her husband had twelve children.  Ervin (her husband) was from a family of eleven children.  You couldn't take a walk without running into someone related to the Gorrells.  My grandmother, Mildred, was child number eight.  Her immediate siblings, Opal (Jackson) and June (Pyatt) were very close to her, as were sisters Belle (Lehew), Ruth (Williams), Virginia (Dow) and Mabel (Bigley).  I knew them, and all of their children; Mabel had a girl in my graduating class (Debbie Bigley), and Belle had one a bit younger (Kim Lehew).  June had grandkids around my age (Tim, Mike, Keith and Jodi Abels).  There were so many Gorrell cousins that my oldest daughter (Ryan Reynolds) would check with me before dating anyone from our area.

I remember big, big family picnics at "the farm".  Women in clean linen aprons cooking the most amazing food one could ever wish for. Yard games, pet dogs, and general fun for all of "us kids" who ranged basically from young adults to infants.  There was ALWAYS watermelon, a great many salads, and green beans forever.  Later, the Gorrells who remained when I was a younger adult, would have reunions that I occasionally could make it to.  My sense of family is very strong, and runs very deep.

One of the things that struck me was the sheer number of men in both the Gorrell and Pyatt families who served in the military.  Every branch except the Coast Guard was represented.  That's not unusual for the time period as WWII, then Korea and Viet Nam, were in generations just previous to mine.  It's also not a surprise that this was never talked about.  War is hell, they survived, end of story as far as they were concerned.

Mabel and Clay Rowley

Likewise, not all of my memories were good ones.  I didn't much like my grandma's second husband, Paul Wetzel or his mom Lulu.  His sister Agnes (Wilkins) always seemed to me to be angry.  His sister Midge (Rowley) was the happier one.  Both were very big women and could smother a child with their hugs!  Grandma Wetzel was obsessed with keeping her house clean.  Paul's sons from his first marriage, John and Darrell, were teenagers to young adults back then, and full of themselves.  Darrell always seemed to be in trouble.  John liked music.

Gram's mom Rachel lost her first husband and father of her many children in 1930.    Their youngest, son Bob, was only two months old.  The oldest, Alonzo, was 20, with a young family of his own.  He died just six years later after an appendectomy, leaving his wife and five children.  Alonzo's brother Don had been killed in an accident in 1933, only 18 years old.  Then, as if that weren't enough, a real crisis and tragedy occurred.

Daughter Violet, aged 17, was killed in a car wreck just two weeks after her brother Alonzo died.  Adding insult to injury, she was killed by her cousin Garnet (aka Dutch) who had just put plates on his car that morning.  He fled the scene and wasn't picked up until the next day.  Two other non-family members were also badly injured.  Dutch was the son of David Selby Gorrell, Ervin's brother.  The families never got over it.

The uncle that I was closest to was Uncle Bob.  He lived in Mason County, WV with his wife and two kids, and was the youngest of the Gorrell kids.  He was very much like my dad, his namesake.  Both told silly jokes and liked to laugh.  My grandmother was very close to him.  Uncle Bob died when I was about ten-I think it was cancer.  I've long since lost track of his kids.

Aside from my grandmother, the Gorrell I miss the most is my Aunt June.  She was everybody's "Aunt June".  She was brassy, sassy, and incredibly kind. She and my Aunt Belle died the same year, 2007.  After my grandma died in 1999, Aunt June was her stand in in my life. My kids were fortunate to know her as well.

One more note then I will leave this for now.  My dad and his first cousin Libby Pyatt Abels were what is known as "double first cousins".  Gorrell sisters married Pyatt brothers.  Interestingly, my sister Amy (Taylor) and my cousin Jodi (Smith) looked exactly alike in their toddler years.  The local newspaper even ran photos of them in the same bathing suit, a couple of years apart, and even I couldn't tell them apart.