Lessons in forgiveness
In 1998, Louis Sachar wrote a book titled Holes. The book details the life of an unlucky boy from an unlucky family who is sent to a brutal juvenile detention camp in the middle of the desert after being falsely accused of stealing a pair of valuable athletic shoes. Spoiler alert that is relevant to my story: the main character ends up helping a descendant of a person his ancestor wronged around 100 years before. Once the wrong was “righted,” it seemed, the main character and his family never suffered from bad luck again.
On to my story.
A few years ago, a visit to my great-grandparents’ graves in Winchester, Ohio, led us to some questions which ultimately led me to looking more closely into my genealogy on both sides of my family as well as my husband’s family.
I had not been investigating long when our editor assigned a research project that included the Pendleton County Historical Society which is housed in the Fryer House, the stone house that is located across from Northern Elementary on 27.
As I had learned more about both sides of my family, I had been shocked to discover that that house that had held some mystery for me and many others during our Northern Elementary years had actually belonged to my fourth great-grandfather Walter Fryer. He was the one who had had it built. That house suddenly became part of me. I wanted to know more, to see it, to step inside it, and with the assignment, I got the excuse to go in—not that I needed one. Anyone is welcome to visit.
Teresa Griffin Johnston met me there and proudly led me on a tour of the home. She told me about my ancestor (who is also her husband’s direct ancestor) and she went into the history of how the house had been built. She explained that stones had been hauled in from the area, and that construction had taken so long that Grandpa Fryer supposedly sued the builder, an Abraham Vastine, for the delay in finishing the work.
That name rang a bell the size of Big Joe.
“That was one of my husband’s grandfathers!”
I got home later and checked my sources, and sure enough, Abraham Vastine, my husband’s fifth great-grandfather, was apparently a farmer and a builder—possibly the first of several generations of builders to come through him because his third great-grandson, Sylvester Stahl, and a few of his fifth and now sixth great-grandsons enjoy or did enjoy building.
A few generations ago, two men had differences. Even though we are not sure the lawsuit actually went through or if and/or how long the disagreement lasted, I know that the descendants of these two men have enjoyed over 37 years of happiness as husband and wife.
I am grateful the grudge did not hold. I am grateful that I did not know this story until just a couple of years ago. How could that have affected a relationship had my family and my husband’s family known the past too well to give up differences?
Differences happen. Life goes wrong. Sometimes, we tend to pass those grievances down generations or even down the street. Thankfully, Brian and I were never exposed to any history, and we found too much in common, especially unconditional love, to let our own grievances stand in our way—because we do disagree from time-to-time. We have had to do the same with more than one family member, as well, and many have done the same for us. This is how we grow as people. We disagree. We ask questions. We discuss our opinions. We see another side or we let another have his opinion while we hold onto our own; however, we HOLD ONTO OUR OWN—our own family, friends, neighbors, coworkers. We have their backs, and we do not work to prejudice one against another. This is how we unite. This is how we change our world for our children.