The Power of Reconnection

"Karla, Thank You for Having Me"

Two days after Easter this is the text that I received from my first cousin on my father's side, Harold Hayden.  I read the text and was immediately consumed with undefinable feelings.  

It was me who needed to say, "Harold - thank you for reconnecting with me after 23 years."  I also needed to say many other things that were floating around in my head and in my heart, but I could not get them in an order that would make sense at the time - a jumbled up mess akin to pouring out the magnetic alphabet letters on the floor and desperately needing to place them in proper order on the refrigerator.  Isn't that life, though - messy at best, sometimes?  It seems to be my lot to constantly be attempting to put some order to the mess - at least to get things into their proper order or categories! 

I decided that writing about Harold in this blog post would help me (and him) make at least a little sense of the power of reconnection.  It will also help us get over the regret we both feel for not having had each other in our individual lives for the majority of our years.

When we asked each other the question, "Why were we not connected more as we were growing up?" neither one of us could actually say why.  We did acknowledge that we "seem to like each other now," so let's just focus on the future and definitely not let more time pass by without an active relationship.

My father, George Bounds Babcock and Harold's mother Patricia Babcock Warren Hayden Sharp were brother and sister.  Born to Jesse and Virginia Babcock in the 1930's, George and Patricia grew up in the Rio Grande Valley of Texas in a very small community named Stuart Place just to the west of Harlingen.

Here is a photo of my dad, George and his sister Patricia in their youth in Stuart Place, Harlingen, Texas:

Known for it's citrus crops, the Rio Grande Valley provided the hometown region for both my mother, Beverly Jane Dague Babcock West, and my father.  My mother grew up in town, so my parents did not meet each other until in the 10th grade when the Stuart Place kids moved up to the big city and into Harlingen High School.  Patricia was five years younger than my father, so she was not enrolled in Harlingen High until after my mother and father were away at college.  Here is a photo of what Harlingen looked like in 1950.

My parents married just after college in 1955 and then proceeded to call Redbank New Jersey, Augusta, Georgia, San Antonio, Texas, Abilene Texas, and finally Lubbock, Texas home from 1961 on.  Patricia relocated to Tyler, Texas to be near her mother Virginia and husband Johnny Adams.  There Patricia raised her sons, Bobby (2 years older than I), and Harold (3 years younger than I).  Bobby and Harold spent a lot of time with their maternal grandmother whom they called Mammaw.

I recall visiting  in Tyler a few times as a child.  What sticks out in my memory is the "green thumb" that my Grandmother Adams had.  She could grow anything - even if all she had were some roots to start with.  Her home was filled with plants and her yard was lush and green.  She was especially skilled in growing the most beautiful Tyler roses.

Behind her house was a greenhouse where she grew plants for sale - a road sign on the highway clearly enticing passersby to stop and be amazed.  I also remember the hot humid summer weather and taking a nap on a bed in the guestroom with no covers and the ceiling fan humming me to sleep.  I have vague memories of Harold, but he was my younger brother's age, so I might well have associated him with my disdain for a bratty younger brother.  I think most of my memories of my childhood and youth with any connection with Harold would have been in photos and short visits to Tyler and maybe one or two when Aunt Patricia brought Bobby and Harold to Lubbock.  Here is a photo of my dad with Aunt Patricia in 1983 at the kitchen table at my mom's house in Lubbock.  My mother and I do not believe that Harold or Bobby were with her on that visit.  Little did any of us know at that time that my dad would only live 8 more years and Aunt Patricia would only live 11 more years.

My father, George Babcock died in 1991 at the age of 58, Aunt Patricia died in 1994 at the age of 56, and her oldest son, Bobby, died in 2007 at the age of 53 - all of heart related diseases.  My mother and I visited Aunt Patricia in 1994 just before her death, and I do recall visiting with Harold at her home.  She was quite ill, and died soon after.  My mother and I also attended her funeral in November, and that was the last time that I had seen Harold until this past Easter weekend.

For reasons unknown, Harold and I lost touch with each other until about 2 years ago when he asked me to be his friend on Facebook!  Awe - the power of FB for reconnection.  We communicated a bit prior to my departure to Australia.  He was an avid supporter of my blog, and as I was anticipating my return to the states, I told Harold that we needed to get together in 2017.  He agreed, and the visit to Colorado was planned.

Having not been on an airplane for more than 30 years, Harold's jaunt to the northwest was not insignificant.  Mitch served as a tour guide for the sights of Denver and surrounds.  We both took Harold on a day trip to the top of Pikes Peak and to the Garden of the Gods on Saturday just before Easter.  Then on Easter we had all our kids over for what we affectionately call a "linner" (a meal between lunch and dinner).  It was a very nice day.

Our Niece, Maddie, Husband, David, and Penny

Kevin and Mary Beth

Katie and Curtis

Easter 2017

I think Harold had a nice time with all of the things that we did while he was here, but what I especially appreciated was the opportunity to not only reconnect, but to actually connect for the first time.  Harold is the closest blood relative that I have remaining on my father's side with the exception, of course, of my brother, Glen.  The connection caused me to ponder the power of the need to reconnect with our roots.  It seems to be a human condition that at some point we have a yearning to learn all we can about our blood relatives and to establish or reestablish relationships with them.  Harold and I spent several hours talking about our lives, our struggles, our disappointments, our joys, and our dreams.  After our weekend together, I think we concluded that we are not that different after all - we have also vowed not to let 23 more years go by before getting together again!

I now urge you to think about someone in your family with whom you need a reconnection.  I can assure you that it will be worth it!