Where did I come from?

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  Ok....don't quite need to go back that far, but I did want to give you a little history.

The funny thing is, while working on a project for school, in the LC library, I found the book "Where Did I Come From?".  That's the same book mom used to teach me the facts of life.  I laughed when I saw it.....okay....don't need to go there either.....

Let's start with my family....family is what makes you who you are. 

Preston Eugene Osborne was the 4th child of William (Bill) and Hattie Osborne.  He was born on June 3, 1944, 3 days before D Day!  Papa Bill and Grandma Hattie Bell gave their children everything they could, which wasn't much, but they always knew they were loved.  Papa Bill worked at the paper mill.  He lost several fingers there!  Grandma was a wife and mother.  When I was little, she was working at the Salvation Army as the Social Services Coordinator.  My dad grew up in the Salvation Army, and there are some stories that I will tell about him!!  Dad loved to hunt and fish and tells stories of the trips with his grandfather. He also loved hanging out with his brothers, especially Dickie.  They managed to get themselves into trouble quite a bit!

Barbara Jean Coffey was the 2nd child of Willard & Lil Coffey.  She was born on September 19, 1946.  When mom was little, her parents divorced, and Granny Lil worked hard to keep a roof over her girls heads, clothes on their backs, and food on the table.  It wasn't easy....but she did it.    Mom never really had the "daddy" relationship with her father, and was very close to her mother.

Preston & Barbara were from "different worlds".  He was a bad boy from White Rock Hill, and she was the good girl from the Fort Hill area.  My Granny did not think he was good enough for her....but then what mom or dad thinks that the guy dating their daughter is good enough?  Anyway, they eloped on April 1, 1964.  Mom was only 17, and had to lie about her age!  (Some good girl, hugh?  LOL). 

I think I will pause here for now.

Memories are a funny thing....Sometimes, I'm not sure if what I remember is a true memory, or a story that I've been told so many times, I think I really remember it.  Guess it doesn't matter....memories are memories.