I didn’t know my grandfathers. I was the first grandson for both men, yet their life stories are shapeless to me.
At 51, I’m feeling the void.
Before the 21st century, personal narratives were fragile. They were entrusted to family memories and shoeboxes filled with letters and newspaper clippings.
In a nutshell, here’s what I know about my grandfathers:
My maternal grandfather, Connor Whiteside, owned a general store in Cross Bridges, Tenn. He was 60 years old when my mother was born. He was born so long ago that he almost could have smelled the smoke of the Civil War.