Did Dad Know? - Part lI

 

When my Aunt Mae Clayborn Damron, my Aunt Patty King Rendon, my brother and I met for the first time that July in 2011, one of questions posed later at the cemetery was how my grandparents, Thurston Clayborn and Pansy Hubbell, met.  This was a topic we would ponder for the next seven (7) years of Mae's life when we got together to visit.  

My grandmother would have been 19, and Thurston eight years her senior, or 27. One of the popular theories was that Clarence's wife, Esther likely was the one who introduced them, through a sewing club or some similar organization. Every person associated with that group are gone, so we likely won't ever know the truth.  

As to know what Dad knew and when, it wouldn't have been until my grandmother's funeral in 1985. He went alone, and Mae said she was looking for him, as she wanted to talk to him, but she was so busy she missed him. Mae thinks that Clarence went with him and my Uncle Billy.  So, he may have found out then.  Maybe, maybe not.  

One thing I've wondered is if he did find out, he never told my mother, as she would have told me. She never said anything. One fact that was shared is that my uncle did not want to go to the cemetery and my father insisted that he would be going, as it wasn't optional. The day of my grandmother's funeral was the last day that my dad and his brother were on speaking terms. After that time, he was estranged from the family until the day he died. The reason no doubt was that he didn't inherit any part of the estate of his mother. My dad and aunt agreed that all the money he had borrowed from his mother over the years would be counted toward his share of the estate.  In their eyes, this was only right. And, so it was. 

A final thought, reflecting as an adult on this story, and as a parent myself, as patterns repeat themselves. I know I certainly have, so I have no doubt that he did as well. I wonder if my father thought of his mother and her feelings when she came back home to her father's house pregnant, when I came back home in the same situation. I didn't know my grandmother's story then.  

But, as it's Father's Day today, I am remembering several difficult days during that time, and remembering how kind he was.  It was a time I felt especially close to him and thankful that I had a protector and a home to come to at a time when I needed one. I was blessed. 

Brothers and Sisters

Reflecting back on my childhood, the legend of "oldest child syndrome," definitely applied to our family and to me.  I was the "responsible one," the one expected to lead and take care of my brother, even from a young age.  The earliest memories I have are of a traumatic robbery when we were young in Hawaii (my brother was in a crib).  I also remember our old spanish home in National City, California, with hardwood floors and a phone with a bell ringer.  The ringer used to ring when we had earthquake tremors and wake us up.  My brother was a typical boy.  He used to pee through the fence on the kid next door in our duplex.  Hot summer days found us running through the sprinkler in the front yard, when my dad would set it up for us.  In Connecticut, we were close to my mother's New England family, which she liked, as my father was gone a lot on submarines.  It was hard raising a busy 2-year old boy.  For example, when a mailman didn't lock up his truck, my brother took the mail out of the truck and put in back in the mailbox.  When he got mad at a neighbor girl, he hit her over the head with a truck, leading to stitches.  Needless to say, Mom used to get plenty of moms knocking on her door about my brother. 

I was just over the age of three when my brother was born.  We happened to be in St. Petersburg, Florida, and dad had gone ahed to report for duty in Hawaii, while my mother

and I stayed in St. Petersburg with my grandparents until my brother was born, and it was safe to travel. To think she traveled by herself from Florida to Hawaii with an infant and a 3-year old alone to Hawaii.  She had it wasn't easy, as I was running all over the plane, with Ritz cracker crumbs everywhere.  Thank God I was potty trained. She said the Navy was no help to her in those early days. She was alone alot.  

I used to ask my mother where she found my brother, as I used to swear he fell off a turnip truck somewhere.  To say we are different, is a vast understatement (leading to my question).   He was short and round and I was tall and thin.  When he got stuck in the snow (up to his chest), I had to go rescue him at my mother's insistence. 

At the age of 3, my brother didn't talk.  He would point, and could not pronounce my name.  Even with extensive speech therapy, he used to call me "Pinda,"  Sissy was easier, but never stuck.  Mrs. Stovepipe was his speech therapist, and worked with him, enabled us to stay in Connecticut six months later so he could finish his therapy.

My brother was spoiled, and didn't have to do much to get my mom's attention or to get what he wanted. At Christmas, the base exchange would set up Toyland, and I remember being so excited to go see all the toys so I could pick out what I wanted for Christmas and to see all the decorations--It was really a wonderland. I remember thinking that I hoped my brother behaved himself as there was nothing worse than watching him through a fit in a store if he didn't get what he wanted.  Sure enough, it wasn't long as he was pitching a fit when he couldn't get some toy he wanted. I remember Mom telling him he had to wait for Santa, but he was having none of it.  I just kept walking as I couldn't take it.  I don't even remember how it all worked out, but eventually we all met up and got out of there.  I'm sure I got talked to about going ahead of them by myself. 

I was always "in charge," as far as my parents were concerned. Even before my mother took her last breath, I sensed a struggle.  When I told her he would be OK, she peacefully took her last breath. 

Did Dad Know? - Part I

  One of the most perplexing questions I have is whether or not my dad learned who his father was.   If he did, it was following the burial of his mother in February 1985.  My grandmother died suddenly following an aneurysm.  Actually, I remember when the call came in.  I was over at my parent's house and it was lunch time on the weekend.  My father leaned against the wall of the kitchen, while on the phone, with his head bowed.  When he hung up the phone, I remember asking what was wrong.  He was slow to respond and obviously upset.  I remember he quietly said he was just getting to know her and his voice cracked as he spoke and I sensed the profound loss in that statement.  The loss of what would never be.  The loss of a mother. 



Clayborn, Clarence & Esther 1977

   Dad went to the funeral alone as money was tight for my folks.  Also, my grandmother owned property so there would be an estate to start talking about, so he would be longer than just a day or so.  Being newly married,  I had no extra cash and I had just seen Grandma at my wedding.  So, everything I'm sharing is based on what I was told from my mother or my Dad's youngest sister, my Aunt Patty. 

Note that the first two paragraphs above were written on 2/3/13.  It is  5/4/25 and I just logged in and found this blog unpublished.  I still don't know the answer to this question, 12 years later.  I will tell you that I know not knowing who his father was left a tremendous hole in my father's life.  Even if my grandmother was trying to protect my dad from rejection (my daughter's wise summary of the situation), which may likely be true, it still left a void.  The absence of his mother during those early years,(She went to work during the week in Kansas City to send money home.) left an even greater void.  

The 1950 census showed Pansy Hubbell, declaring herself a widow, at the young age of 30, which while possible, is not accurate.  Rather, she gave birth out-of-wedlock to my dad on May 11, 1940, and named him James Thurston Hubbell, after her father and his father.  While I will not understand the circumstances of her relationship with my grandfather, Thurston Clayborn, I do know that she fell in love at the young age of 19.  

I added the photograph of Clarence and Esther, as they were a key to alot about our family.  Clarence used to check on my dad and my uncle.  At least that is what my Aunt Mae told me when I met her.  She said that Clarence was the one that came to her one weekend to tell her about the boys.  She told him she already knew about them.  He talked about my dad being in the Navy and about being careful about approaching my uncle.  She had pictures of my dad and uncle I had never seen.