My grandfather died when I was 7. I only knew him as a doting entity who I often suspected was the real Santa Claus. Ulysse James Roger grew up in Carencro, (sp?) Louisiana. His native language was French (would you call the Cajun French "French?"). Ulysse was the first person in his family to go to college. This was a big deal, his father told him that college was useless, that the only real substance in life was owning land and farming. From what I've read of the Cajun culture they were fairly reclusive (at least the farming ones were, I think some of the more aristocratic plantation owning Cajuns - or French Arcadians, were more socially influential - but I don't really know) or at least xenophobic. Supposedly when they came down from Nova Scotia they were "lured" (the other choice besides death or slavery) to the new Lousiana Colony where "other" French people were gathering (people that Napoleon sent over a la Fidel Castro) - these people were mostly prisoners, prostitutes, and other "undesirables" that the very religious and stoic French Arcadians didn't really want to associate with. I'll have to find the article that I read, it talked about how the French Arcadians were very industrious, austere, stoic, types of people. Kind of like Amish? Reminds me of the many people who were seeking religious freedom (freedom to practice extremist religion I think) who settled in the Northeastern part of America.
Anyway, I can see that in my grandfather. He was a man of few words, and had a terrible temper from what I've heard. He spent a LOT of time in his workshop making things and had an extraordinary vegetable garden in the backyard. It covered the entire backyard. So I imagine him to have been this hard core little kid, half Babbit half some literary character in his own right. Then there's my shell shocked theory - or PTSD theory. Ulysse (or UJ as he was called, and "Jimmy" by those close to him) drove a Sherman Tank in the Battle of the Bulge. My third generation washed down desensitized reductivist comment on that: that HAD to be hardcore! And he never spoke of it, EVER. Not to his wife, and especially not to my father. My father has sorely missed really knowing his dad. I think he felt that he never lived up to his father's standards. I could see how a lot of baby boomers and their parents had such a generation gap - the latter of course growing up during the Great Depression and fighting in wars then enjoying unprecedented prosperity lavished their children with material possessions and parental love - but then were disappointed when these kids were "spoiled" or rebellious. But I digress...
I love to try to imagine what my grandfather was like. I ask my grandma all the time. She's been widowed since 1978 (?) - my grandfather died of a heart attack on December 10th - he was trying to start a lawn mower I think. I always thought he was putting up Christmas lights. I only knew him as a child, does this count as knowing someone? I always felt like he was very loving. I think he showed his love for his sons by trying really hard to provide, be there to direct or teach, and making things for people (literally handicrafts and furniture and such). I know he had an extremely silly side - he laughed a lot, loved the Cowboys and beer, and gave a lot of gag gifts at Christmas. He wasn't without a sense of humor and from what Grandma says was very charismatic... ok enough of this... I think these artifacts will tell the story much better than me (I?) (see, I'm not even a good writer... )
