Jackson Calloway, of Fort Bragg, died peacefully in his sleep in the early morning hours last Saturday, September 11. Mr. Calloway was born at his family’s homestead in Anderson Valley of this County on December 28, 1899. He was 101 years old. Jackson was preceded in death by his parents, Will and Gertie, his sister Debra Mae, . . . his wife Crystalina (née Fabret), his son Benjamin, his grandson Perry, . . . Mr. Calloway was a World War I veteran and subsequently worked as a logger. He and his wife had three sons and three daughters, five of whom are still living. Jackson is survived by not only those five children, but also by 21 grandchildren, 62 great-grandchildren, and eleven great-great-grandchildren (so far).
After a period of mourning, thinking obsessively of Crystalina and all she had meant to him, Jackson took stock and reminded himself that he still had all of his children but Ben, who had died in the plane crash, and all of his grandchildren less one (Perry, who had been killed in Vietnam), as well as great-grandchildren and even some great-great-grandchildren (the thought of which made him think he must be ancient, although he didn’t really feel as if he was). Jackson realized that he had much to be thankful for. Not a day went by that he didn’t ponder both what he still had as well as what he had lost.
And so it was with trepidation that, while meditating on his blessings and his “cursings” (as he called the loss of lost ones), the family was impacted in 1990 by yet another war. They had already sent representatives to The Great War (World War 1), namely himself, where he lost two fingers; World War 2 (his son Ben, who survived the war but was killed in a plane crash a few years afterward); Korea (his other sons, Dan and Frank, both of whom were still alive); Vietnam (one of his grandsons, Perry Dale, the first of the Calloways to be killed in action—he considered Perry to be a Calloway, being his daughter’s boy); and now his youngest great-grandchild, Emily Suzette’s daughter Kimberly, had joined the military and was deployed overseas during the Persian Gulf War, becoming involved in the “Desert Shield” and “Desert Storm” operations.
In due time, Kimberly returned from overseas, none the worse for wear, or so it seemed, superficially. Her aunt Audra had been very concerned about her niece going into battle, and was relieved when Kimberly made it back home after her stint in the armed forces. They thereafter became closer, and often had conversations about war and its effect on the family, and on society. They collaborated in an attempt to steer other family members away from involvement in any such future quagmires.
Jackson Calloway died in his sleep in the early morning hours of Tuesday, September 11, 2001. He was born during the last part of the 19th Century, had lived through all of the 20th, and into the first part of the 21st.
According to his obituary, Jackson was 101 years old at the time of his death. The age given was mathematically correct, as he had lived from 12/28/1899 to 9/11/2001, but it seemed to some as if he had lived much longer than that, considering the number of earth-shaking events he had experienced and the myriad disruptive changes he had seen throughout his lifetime: Both World Wars; the global pandemic known as the Spanish Flu; the Roaring 20s; the Great Depression; the Cold War, including wars family members had fought in, such as Korea and Vietnam; Jazz, Rock ‘n’ Roll, Beatniks, Hippies; Watergate; Computers and the Internet; and the onset of climate change, or “global warming” as it was mostly called at first.
Jackson was spared 9/11. He died a few hours before the first plane hit the North Tower of the World Trade Center. He was not around to see a great-great grandson, despite the admonitions of Audra and Kimberly, join the military immediately after that terrorist attack and deploy to Afghanistan.
An immortal group of teenagers, on seeing the obituary in the paper about the “three-century-man,” as some were calling him, found the advanced age of the subject mockworthy. “Man, he was older than dirt!” clichéd one of their number. “He was probably checking IDs at the Last Supper!” another guffawed. Yet another, at least showing a little more originality, offered the observation, “That geezer was so old that he had been a charter member of the Brand Spankin’ New Order of Hibernians.” None of his cronies understood that wry reference to the man’s obviously Irish heritage, though, being unfamiliar with The Ancient Order of Hibernians; none of them read much—nor did they often think very deeply. Thus, their response to the witticism was merely half-chuckles and face-averted grins.
One of these young men eventually wisened up enough to feel embarrassed about his participation in the conversation. You can probably guess which one it was.
Chapter 1 can be read here.
The previous chapter (18) can be read here.