Remembering Grandpa and His Beliefs

Today, it has been 9 years since my grandpa, Aaron Carey, passed away. In memory of him and the way he felt about things, I thought I would share a story about him.

When my mother and her sisters were small, their babysitter was a teenage black girl from down the road. One time when grandma and grandpa came home at night, they saw the girl laying on the floor beside the bed where mom and her sisters were sleeping. My grandpa got really gruff with the girl and it woke my mother up. She heard grandpa tell the babysitter to never sleep on the floor in his house again. He said dogs slept on the floor and she was not a dog. He said she should sleep up in the bed with his girls. Mom said the girl never slept on the floor again. Later grandpa said it hurt his heart to know she thought she had to sleep on the floor.

My grandpa was just one man, but he is the person I get my insight into how Cherokees were and he is my window to my Cherokee past and history. This injustice the Cherokee Nation is perpetuating against the Freedmen descendants bothers me. Our Cherokee administration wants us to believe they are just black people who are out trying to get something they aren't entitled to have. What they don't tell us is the Freedmen were citizens of the Cherokee Nation with the full rights of native Cherokee. They share the same history. Their ancestors traveled the Trail of Tears. Their ancestors helped rebuild our nation time and time again. And their ancestors were active members of the Cherokee communities in which they lived.

Maybe too much time has passed or maybe we have just assimilated too much, but it seems we have forgotten some of the things our ancestors and grandparents believed. My grandpa saw people as people. The color of their skin was not important. The type of person they were was what mattered. And my grandpa believed in doing the right thing. Right now, I don't think our nation is doing the right thing. Prejudice in any way, shape or form is not right. At this point in time, we aren't even opening the door to the Cherokee Freedmen descendants, let alone giving them a floor to sleep on. This hurts my heart. I look forward to a time when we can go back to those simple beliefs that we are all equal and when we not only open the door to them but also welcome them to sleep in a bed in our home, just like my grandpa did.

Grandpa. Thank you for instilling strong morals and values in us. Every day, I try to conduct myself in a way that would make you proud. I love you and miss you. You will never be forgotten.

Those are my thoughts for today.

Thanks for reading.

CC

The Granddaughter

copyright 2011, Polly's Granddaughter - TCB

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Tombstone Tuesday - My Great Grandpa Carey

Dick Carey was born in Cherokee Nation, Indian Territory in January 1890, the son of Aaron Carey and Polly Boots. At the age of 12, he was listed on the Final Dawes Roll as a fullblood. As a young man, Dick married a Cherokee woman whose name is not known. She and her son both died during childbirth.

In 1916, Dick married a Cherokee girl named Nancy Fisher. They lived on her allotment and had a family of 9 children. They only had one daughter who was named Nellie. Their sons were Mike, Aaron, Winston, Reed, Donald Ray, twins Millard and Willard, and John F..

Dick was a farmer who supplemented the family income by cutting hair for local men. Apparently he must have been pretty good at because many utilized the barber services he offered out of his home.

On New Year's Eve 1937, while walking home from town, Dick was killed by a hit and run driver. He was buried in the Old Fisher Cemetery and then later moved to the present Fisher Cemetery when the original had to be relocated.

The man who found Dick after he was hit did not see the vehicle that struck him. The driver who killed Dick was never found.

**Note: Documentation says Dick was born January 1890 and died December 31, 1937. The dates on the marker are wrong. This is a replacement marker and the dates were estimated for it.

copyright 2009, Polly's Granddaughter - TCB

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In Honor of My Grandpa's Birthday

This post is my little way of remembering my grandpa, Aaron Carey, and trying to honor his wishes that we never forget about the horrors of war or the sacrifices our soldiers have made for us. Please click on his name and read his biography on the memorial page for him on Find A Grave.


We will never forget the sacrifices you or the other soldiers have made for our freedom. Thank you, grandpa.

Those are my thoughts for the day.
Thank you for reading.

CC
The Granddaughter

copyright 2009, Polly's Granddaughter - TCB

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The Cherokee Grandpa

I have a Cherokee grandpa. Bet you don't hear people say that very much. I have often wondered, since so many people have a mythological Cherokee grandma, why no one seems to have a Cherokee grandpa. My theory is it is easier to "lose" a Cherokee grandma in the mix of surnames and maiden names than it is to "lose" a Cherokee grandpa, at least from a white perspective of genealogy. Anyone who has done genealogy knows it is much easier to research a non-Indian male ancestor because they normally have the same surname as their father who had the same surname of their father. Women are much more difficult to research because, if you don't know their maiden name, then how do you figure out who her parents are or where she came from? I would guess this is the reason the stories of a Cherokee grandma flourish while stories of a Cherokee grandpa are nearly non-existent. It is hard to convince people of an ancestor that doesn't exist if the line has been thoroughly researched and there is no Cherokee to be found.

Well, today, the Cherokee grandpa is no longer forgotten and we are going to celebrate his existence. Not only do I have one Cherokee grandpa, but many Cherokee grandpas. One of my Cherokee grandpas was an Old Settler. Several others traveled the Trail of Tears. At least four of my Cherokee grandpas served in the Indian Home Guard during the Civil War and four others were listed on the Final Dawes Roll. In more recent times, one of my Cherokee grandpas served in WWII with the US Army.

The only Cherokee grandpa I knew personally was the last one in a long line of other Cherokee grandpas. He was a remarkable man, not just because he was Cherokee, but because he was a good person and had an interesting life. He was the third child of two Cherokee Nation citizens who were both listed on the Final Dawes Roll. While a young teenager, his father was killed by a hit and run driver and he had to take over the role of helping his mother support the family of 9 children. He fetched water and kept the fire going for her as she did laundry for a living. He also helped a local widow on her farm and he would be paid in vegetables which he took home to his mother and siblings.

When he was 20 years old, he enlisted with the U.S Army. He was attached to the 612th Tank Destroyer battalion and was part of the European campaign during WWII. On Dec. 18, 1944, at the beginning of the Battle of the Bulge, he was captured by the Germans at Honsfeld. After having his coat, gloves and boots taken away, he was marched toward the Prisoner of War camp. It was bitter cold and he had nothing to eat during the entire 10 day trip. He endured six months as a POW until he was liberated by American soldiers.

After the war, he returned to civilian life and raised a family like many other veterans. He never realized he had honors coming to him. Fifty-five years after WWII, he was presented 7 medals from a United States Congressman from Oklahoma. My Cherokee grandpa was awarded the Bronze Star Medal, the POW medal, an European-African-Middle Eastern Campaign medal (with service stars representing the 8 major battles he participated in), a U.S. Victory medal, a Good Conduct Medal, a Combat and Infantryman badge, and a Rifleman Qualification Combat Infantry Army Award medal. He was also awarded a Cross of Valor by the State of Oklahoma.

Later when interviewed about his wartime experience, Grandpa said he felt it was important that the young people of today learn about the wars America has fought and the sacrifices made to keep the country free. He said he had told his children about it when they were young like many other veterans did, but he didn't know if the stories had been passed on to the younger generation. He said if given the opportunity to tell young people about WWII, he would advise them, "Let's not go through another thing like this again."

Two years and four months after he received his WWII medals, Grandpa was sick and near death. As he struggled to hold onto life, my mom, his oldest daughter, laid her face beside his and told him she loved him and one day he would have four little Indian girls in Heaven with him. A few hours later, he died.

My Cherokee grandpa was dearly loved and will never be forgotten. He, and all the other Cherokee grandpas that came before him, helped form our family and the Cherokee Nation into what it is today.

To all the Cherokee grandpas, whether from our past or our present, we have not forgotten you. We are proud of you and we love you.

Those are my thoughts for today.
Thank you for reading.

CC
The Granddaughter
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