My two Great Grandmothers truly despised each other.

My Nan  ( nee’ Edith McDowell Godfrey – my Grandpa Bert’s Mom) and my Great Grandma Shreve  ( My Grandma Ginger- Grandpa Bert’s wife ( ‘nee Blanche Ross  Shreve ) just hated each other and I mean HATE.

So. What’s the skinny you may ask?

Well. You know. It’s like this.

My Great Grandma Shreve’s family supported the American Revolutionary War- some of her family members even fought on the side of the Colonists.

My Nan’s family were Scottish and they were loyal to Scotland. Period. Full Stop.  Some members of Nan’s family  immigrated from Scotland to Canada and she didn’t show up in the States until 1915.

In a nutshell, her family  were loyal to the Crown.

So. The first time I really heard the words ‘traitor’ and ‘terrorist’  slung around it was Nan shooting them at Grandma Shreve and to be honest, I never heard what Grandma Shreve said back because Nan was my Dad’s Grandmother and when he was born and later when I was born I was taken firmly into the Godfrey/Mcdowell camp.

Besides. Grandma Shreve was a soft spoken lady and she had her ideas about how to behave in front of the kids. But like I said. That’s what I saw. It takes two to go to war so I’m guessing Grandma Shreve had her opinions about the Mcdowells. I just didn’t hear them.

My Nan expected you to be educated, ready for battle and well mannered by the time you could walk- so she didn’t exactly hold back when discussion family politics. She expected me to stand and hold my ground and opinions and let me tell you. I could do exactly that.

When my Grandma Ginger learned she was bound to fail to get me put across the line to become a Daughter of The American Revolution ( Black Women and mixed race women were not eligible to join ) because at the time you had to be White to be admitted membership- The McDowell/Godfrey side of the family got the news at one of our Christmas Dinners.

” Oh.” said my Great Aunt at the news- ” Oh gee. That’s too bad. And not fair. That’s an awful policy.” She was grinning into her little glass of sherry.

” What policy?” I asked.

” They don’t let people with Scottish and Canadian blood  and big brown eyes like your join their gang- I mean group. ” My Grandpa Bert said.

“They don’t like Canadians? So? I’m  not Scottish. I’m  American.”

I heard a tap tap tap from the other side of the table and my Nan was tapping her knife on her plate and if looks could freeze Hell over I’d have been a Popsicle in a pretty dress.

You’s Truly-
A.M. GODFREY ( Moscoso)

My family wasn’t perfect- but God they make for some great stories- don’t they?