Grandpa Bowen: A Childhood Memory

William Cornelius Maguire Bowen, "Grandpa" Bowen, as most elderly people did at that time, lived with one of their children. He alternately lived with my family, or his daughter, Aunt Edith Cooper. He is one of my best childhood memories.

When I was born, he was 71 years old. His hair had been black, but by that time his hair was gray, and, he had a long, white beard. His eyes were a beautiful blue. I can still see those twinkling blue eyes in my mind. My brother, Tom, had those same twinkling blue eyes, with mischief added to the twinkle, as a boy.

Of Grandpa's four brothers, three were tall. Two were lean and lanky; the other also tall, but had a bit more muscular build. One other brother died when he was about 30 years old, and I never knew him, or had a description of him. Grandpa William M . C. Bowen was slim, but he was not tall like his brothers. I suspect he minded, as siblings will, that he, the eldest son, had to look up (in height) to his younger brothers.

He was injured by a falling tree while cutting timber when he was in his 50s and his leg was broken. Apparently it was not set properly, and he walked on crutches for the remainder of his life. This curtailed much of the physical work he had previously done, but he made himself useful around the place doing what he could do.

My grandmother, Sarah Jane Deskin Bowen, died two days before I was born. Grandpa and Dad were away at her funeral, and when they arrived home, they found a new baby girl. I suppose this new child helped fill a small hole in the empty space left in my grandfather's life, by my grandmother's passing. He was a very special part of my life as a child. He died much too soon for me, when I was only seven years old, and I missed him sorely. He was my special childhood friend.

My mother told me that when I was a baby, she would pile pillows in a rocking chiar, lay me on the pillows and Grandpa would watch me while she did her housework. If I woke and got fussy, Grandpa would put his foot on the rocker and gently rock the chair until I quieted, or Mother could come to do what was needed, if I was insistent.

Mother said she thought "Pa" Bowen was cranky. And one of my brother's, a little older than I, expressed the same opinion. I don't remember him being particularly crabby with me, except that once he told me to go get him a 'couple of sticks of wood." Being a literal minded child, that is exactly what I did. If that was what Grandpa wanted, that was what he got. I brought in two sticks of wood.

He fussed at me because I didn't bring more wood. And being this literal minded child, I didn't understand why he was displeased, when I did exactly what he told me to do. In my defense, I might add that I was a 'small' child, and unless the sticks were also pretty small, I probably couldn't have carried much more than that anyway.

I do remember that I pestered Grandpa, probably too frequently, to "Please let me look in Grandma's trunk." For some reason, I was fascinated by what was in this trunk and I delighted in going through it. However, I can only remember one item specifically, that it contained. That was the little clay pipes that it was said Grandma smoked, as did older women of some cultures. Grandpa promised me the pipes would be mine when he was gone; but he was not living with us when he died, and noone would have paid any attention to a child my age anyway. Later, I asked my cousins if they remembered anything about the trunk, and what had happened to the pipes, but neither had any memory of them. I suspect that all, or most of what was in the trunk was discarded as having no value.

As often as I asked Grandpa to see what was in the trunk, he had plent of opportunities to be cranky with me if he wanted to, but if he was, I have never recalled it. Cranky or not, I wouldn't have traded him for anything. When he left us, there was an empty space in my life too, and there was noone else to fill it for a very long time.