They Refuse to Stay Buried

Many times memories refuse to stay buried and will spontaneously resurrect. These remembrances are mostly what I write about and share. While I was stationed in Keflavik, Iceland, I got a telephone call from my mom, Sybil Miner Beck. With phone rates being so expensive other than local calls, I was surprised with the unexpected message. I was 20 years old and no longer a teenage kid. What she had to say hit me quite hard. Raymond Miner, my grandfather, her father had passed away. He was the first close member of my family to die.

A coal miner at night and working his farm to feed his family during the day, he had finally worn himself out. Hardening of the arteries had been destroying his mind for several years. He was so used to tending the farm and caring for his animals that he was constantly restless creating problems for my grandmother Rebecca. She had to constantly be on the alert to keep him from wandering off. All of his animals were sold off and the barn had collapsed, but in his mind, they were still there and needing him.

Many times during the day he would rise from his padded rocker and slip on his shoes. Grandma would ask, “Ray, where are you going?” He would reply, “I have to take care of the horses.” Grandma would have him look out the window at the rubble from the fallen barn and remind him, “The animals are gone, Ray.” He would shake his head, kick off his shoes, and settle back into his chair in front of the television. His tobacco spit can beside him on the floor. Chewing tobacco was a habit that he’d picked up at the coal mines. Many miners chewed tobacco to remind themselves not to swallow the coal dust laden saliva. It wouldn’t be long until he would again become restless, finally rising out of his chair with a replay for his desire to check on his animals.

            Grandma did have a helper. It was a stray dog that they named Laddie. He was a large mongrel collie mix, mostly black with some brown and white markings in its coat. He was an outside dog and would follow granddad when he managed to escape grandma’s watchful eyes. Laddie was a faithful companion, hanging close to Grandpa’s heels. Laddie seemed to assuage some of Granddad’s restlessness and the need to have animals near.

            Alone in Iceland without family, the phone call was difficult for me to bear. Time, distance, and finances made it impossible for me to attend his funeral, but memories of him refuse to stay buried.