Writing Life Stories

We laughed like school kids at the hilarious stories Max told us about his sons working at the family business, Hercules Bumpers, in Pelham, GA. Gabe told us that being the boss's son was no picnic. He was handed the dirtiest and toughest job in the plant when he was a young man working in summer before going to college. I had not heard these stories and fell in love with my nephew's knack for holding forth like his father and having his listeners practically rolling on the floor. 

I don't see Gabe and Max as often as I'd like. Max is eighty-eight years old. His devoted son enjoys his father, and they spend every Sunday afternoon driving to small towns and through the countryside, visiting sites they have heard about but have not taken in before.

Recently they visited the home of Gene Talmadge, former governor of Georgia back in the forties. Gabe said Max enthralled the staff with his memories of Mr. Talmadge's reign. The controversial politician was known as the red-suspendered man because he always wore them. Max, who has an unbelievable memory, sang the jingle used in Talmadge's campaign. The staff was so delighted with my brother, they said they might call him to tell his stories to visitors at the old Talmadge home. My father did not like Gene Talmadge and after reading about him, I understand.


Hearing Max speak tonight reminded me that the oral history of our families often disappear when our loved ones are gone. We should take advantage of folks like my brother and record his  memories.

I talk with  Max often on the phone and Gabe and I email, but that doesn't take the place of a good visit like we had the night of the concert. The love between sisters and brothers is a special thing that overcomes all the anger or frustration created in a lifetime of family. No matter how upset we become at times, we never forget that we have a tie that lasts and heals those difficult times. Max is the brother I have had the most fights with and loved the best when I was a  child.

He has many faults as do I, but he was a wonderful brother to two little girls. He has always been the one in our family that made us all laugh. He is also an artist, a singer, a songwriter, and a poet. His song lyrics are touching and beautiful, as were songs back in the forties and fifties.



He loved our mother deeply and wrote a sweet and clever poem for her one Mother's Day. It was framed and hung on the wall until her death. He is a good sport and is not afraid to make fun of himself.  Max is the last one of my four brothers still with us. He misses the three that are gone like I would miss Gay if she were not here. The four of them were inseparable. They talked every day. I know he has days when he  wishes he could call on of them.

When he is no longer here to  tell his tales, he will have left them in the good hands of his  son, Gabe. So generations to come will hear the family stories even if they aren't written down.