I was born in 1967. A year of change in the world. Drugs, hippies, and change were on the national forefront. It might have been 1967 in the world but in Ste. Genevieve, MO, time was still standing still. Ste. Genevieve is and has always been an interesting town. Beautiful, quiet, sedate, CRAZY, and family oriented. (Not the FAMILY I am a part of in my world!) It was/is your typical dirt road, old main street, churches and bars on every other corner, everybody knows your business-American town. I truly love the place.
My story has a double edged sword. My father's family was one of the pioneer families of Ste. Genevieve. Our original family home from the late 1700's is a tourist trap and interesting house. It is one of the very few remaining vertical log cabins in the United States.
(And you thought I didn't have a heritage!) Farmers they were! The original house is located approximately a mile off the Mississippi River with huge farm lands between the two. The fields are farmed to this day as they were when Great, Great, Great, ++++ Grandpapa arrived in the late 1700's.
He was a slave owner. He was a Northern supporter in the Civil War. This is where my family starts to get interesting. I come from civil rights stock. (Ironic, huh? I am a gay man, yet, I am not afforded the basic civil rights as every other American on the map...marriage, protection from sex bias, etc......don't get me started.....I am losing track!) Ste. Genevieve was notoriously successful from farming, fur trading, and mining. It was a star on the map of Missouri in it's time! My family was VERY successful from farming, and like every other citizen of Ste. Genevieve, a staunch follower of the Catholic religon. That is, until, the Civil War. Lines were drawn, and I am very happy to say-according to family sources and other Ste. Genevievian families, Great++++Gramps drew a line in the sand. As everyone knows, Missouri was neutral for the longest time in the Civil war. There were numerous battles fought on Missouri's soil, and Ste. Genevieve was divided, along with the rest of the state and country. Gramps set his slaves free, gave them what is/was known as "mudtown" in Ste. Genevieve, sold the farmland, and relocated to a spot north of town on the Mississippi River.
WHAT? NO WAY!! Way. This farmland is one of TWO remaining farm sites in Ste. Genevieve county that has not been bought out by the mining companies located in Ste. Genevieve. (Why? I have no clue!--forget the sentimentality--get the cash already!)So. Gramps and the family were blackballed, no pun intended, by the town. Thus the relocation, but, and a big but, the family remained staunch Catholic supporters! Reassurring the families status in Ste. Genevieve society. (As you know, money talks, bullshit walks)
Life changed. The family prospered. The family multiplied. My Dad was born. Again, here is where it gets interesting again. (A therapist's dream!) My paternal grandmother, not to be outdone by Civil Right's Gramps, decided in 1965, in a Catholic town, to DIVORCE my grandfather. Yes, you read it. Divorce, 1965. (I guess she was a pioneer also, never really thought about that before?) This was unheard of in Ste. Genevieve. (Ha! No wonder my father never had a chance!) Grandmama left the family farm, north of town, and moved into the bustling metropolis of Ste. Genevieve city limits! Quite the scandal and radical. She got the house on Main Street, bought a flashy red sports car, and found her a second husband. ALL WITH THE CHURCHES BLESSING!!! This, is after having spent X amount of years with Grandpaps and having 9 children, she just reinvented herself-with the towns and church's blessing!!! (Side note--To those of you who are reading this that never have witnessed or had the "pleasure" of growing up in a small town-this is HUGE! And remember, it is 1965! Rural Missouri!) This is the set up to the stage for my Father's life. When all of this occurred, my dad was a junior in high school. Can you imagine? He was uber popular, intelligent, and on a straight course for success. Until the divorce!
From the stories I have heard, first hand accounts I might add, Gramps and Grams fought like sailors. Both verbally and mentally. I never knew my Grandfather, he died the year I was born, I knew my Grandmother. (Years of therapy and I WILL NEVER get over her rejection of my mother and father, and us, her grandchilren.--Irony again here....I worked for years in Ste. Genevieve at the nursing home. I love me some old folks....and I got to CARE for this woman who always referred to me as the "trashy, fat one".....Dementia is a bitch.....but some things are imbedded for life!....her life, OK, and I guess mine also!) My father was the "pawn" in their battles. Gramps liked him some alcohol. Grams liked her some society. (You would think the two would have mixed? Guess not.) He was shuttled back and forth between the farm and the "city". Living under two very different roofs and not having to be responsible to either. Dad excelled in the area of partying, womanizing, and being the "rebel". (Yes, I am shaking my head in disbelief of that sentence!) Dad met Mom, fell for Mom, (That story is a whole nother blog! And trust, it is crazier than this "short" history of my father's family!) JEEZ........AM I DONE YET?
Ok. Back to the double edged sword. I grew up in this town with both respect and disgust of my family. I was/am very proud of our heritage. I am/was very disgusted by the blatant exploitation of my father's livelihood for the benefit of both his parents. I attended the same high school that my parents did, and believe it or not, had many of the same teachers they had! I was usually greeted with the "Oh, I know who your parents are!" with a tinge of disgust. Or, "Oh, I know who your parents are....." with a tinge of sympathy. Either way, it was not a great start to the school experience.
In a small town, this attitude and rememberence of the past is carried on for generations. Paying for the sins of the father. Dad paid for his Dad's. I am sure his Dad paid for his Dad's........and I still get the sympathy sigh when people find out WHO my Dad was!
The good news. I escaped all of it! Ste. Genevieve is a lovely place to visit. It is very beautiful town. I am just glad I am out of it! Now, as everyone knows, Southern people are KNOWN to exaggerate. (YOU THINK!) This is the story that has been handed down to me. It is the one I choose to believe.
I wanted this post to be about my happiness in working in Downtown St. Louis and to give a small transition from my rural upbringing to my "sexy" urban life now! (Real sexy.....let me tell you!) Perhaps tomorrow morning I can explain the glee and glory I get driving down Highway 44 into Downtown and, actually, living my life!
This post has wore me out!
peace and bacon grease!
rodney
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