Royal Rose

The bar-b-ques were one of the few chances Lucy had to glimpse a tangible piece of her past – her grandmother’s dishes. One of her cousins could always be counted on to flounce in flourishing one of the coveted dishes laden with corn bread or freshly sliced tomatoes. The dish would claim a prime location on the table in spite of its humble holdings. A whole set of Royal Rose china belonged to their beloved grandmother. Every time Lucy saw them tender memories of her grandmother and her own dear mama engulfed her heart.

The last memory of both her grandmother and mother together was Christmas day when she was five. The glow of the candle-lit table provided the perfect backdrop in her mind. Nine places were set. Her grandparents sat at each end of the large oak table, her mother to the left of her grand-dad and her father to the left of her grandmother, she and her siblings filling in the rest. The table was covered in finely embroidered white cotton cloth. She was given the honor of carrying the gravy dish to the table, she remembered carefully placing one foot in front of the other in an effort to not spill a drop. Her mother and grandmother smiled quietly as she successfully placed the dish on the table. The memory ends there. Her sweet mother would be dead by Valentine’s Day and both her grandparents would be claimed by influenza Christmas Eve four years later.

When her grandparents passed, her uncle – her mother’s brother – a dentist and only surviving child of her grandparents swooped in and packed up “the good stuff.” This included the lovely set of pre-depression china. After her mother’s death her father, a farmer, had sent her and her only sister to live with her grandparents. This arrangement lasted for two years until her father found another wife. Those two years turned the five-year-old Lucy into a stoic and mature almost woman. She was the one who had lovingly washed the china each Sunday after dinner for the last year. Now her silly, childish, spoiled cousins, one a year older, one a year younger than Lucy would possess the precious dishes.

At age thirteen Lucy gave birth for the first time to a son, she was unwed, her father forced her to give the baby away. Lucy had been raped by the neighboring farmer, who was married with children of his own. At fifteen she was married for the first time. She quickly gave birth to a son and a daughter all before her third wedding anniversary and her nineteenth birthday. The bar-b-que was scheduled for the day after her 20th birthday. Already showing with her next child she did not really feel like going; but, she could not miss the opportunity to see which dish would appear on the table in a mocking gesture made by her ninny cousins. They could never know that what they thought of as a stab to her heart was really a gift. A gift filled with the shimmering glow of candles on a table abundant with love and food.

She stopped cold when she saw the chipped edge of the square moss rose serving bowl. Over her shoulder, she heard the grating whisper of her cousin. She learned that many of the dishes had been broken during their recent move to a bigger house. This was the last bar-b-que with her mother’s relations she ever attended.

She told me this story  when I asked why her oddly matched serving bowl had a chip in it. She also told about her quest to collect rose patterned dishes; over the years collecting two different sets of rose patterned china, each called Royal Rose, one from Japan, one from Germany. She never did find any to completely match the original china made in Poland. As for the chipped dish, she stole it at that last bar-b-que, unable to bear the thought of any more harm befalling all that the dish represented.

I am Lucy’s granddaughter and I have just passed on sixteen place settings complete with three serving bowls, one with a chip; two serving platters; salt and pepper shakers; and a gravy bowl to my daughter along with this story. While telling the story my four-year-old granddaughter wandered over, sat down and listened with wide eyes.

Ezekiel Amos Adams

Ezekiel Amos Adams is my maternal great-great grandfather.

Born September 29, 1846   Died August 8, 1927

• The Butler Herald, September 1, 1927

Death claims Mr. E.A. Adams, Confederate Hero

In the death of Mr. Ezekiel Amos Adams marks the passing of another Confederate
soldier, leaving only twelve others of his noble band in Taylor County
to wear the badge of honor so worthly bestowed.

Mr. Adams was a native of the county, being born in the eastern part of
the county 81 years ago and was named for his father, Mr. Ezekiel Adams.

The death of Mr. Adams occurred at 1:20 Sunday morning, August 8th at his
home near Bethlehem church in the southern part of the county. He had been
in declining health since November of last year and recently his condition
had been critical.

Mr. Adams had a very large number of friends in Taylor County who will
be grieved to learn of his passing. He was a man of sterling worth and
integrity and held the confidence of all who had the pleasure of his acquaintance.
He put his every trust in his Maker and professed Christianity to a marked
degree. He believed firmly in the doctrine of the Primitive Baptist faith
and order and attended services at a church of that denomination regularly.

His faithful companion for many years was called to the Great Beyond April
7, 1919 leaving him with three sons and three daughters who still survive
towit: Mr. E.B. Adams and Mr. S.C. Adams of this county, Mr. H.V. Adams
of Jacksonville, Fla; Mrs. C.B. Barfield of Macon County; Mrs. Y.J. Garrett
of Jacksonville; and Mrs. Kate Stalnaker, of this county.

Funeral and interment of the remains of Mr. Adams took place at Bethlehem
cemetery Tuesday morning at 10 o’clock, services being conducted by Rev.
J.T. Adams.