I have only two memories of my grandfather, L C Hill.
I remember being a very small child with my cousins in a rose garden. Grandfather Hill appeared and yelled, “You, chaps, get out of Miss Matt’s roses!” I started to cry and he yelled again, “Miss Matt! Miss Matt!” My grandmother came over and picked me up saying, “It’s alright, Mr. Hill” She let me drink one of her special glass bottle Cokes kept in a refrigerator in the carport .
I remember his funeral and holding tight not to my parents, even though I was really scared, but to my grandma because she was crying.
On the journey to find my grandfather, I haven’t learned much. I joked with my father recently that his father may have been a time traveler appearing in the census record only in 1930 and in two moments in the mid 1970s. What I have learned has been confusing because it is contrary to our oral tradition and written notes in the family bible.
I am even more determined now to find out who was the mysterious Mr. Hill.