Grandma Pearl

Last night I watched "Influenza 1918" on American Experience, thinking the whole time of my maternal grandmother, Pearl Ethel Wilson McClellan, who died during that horrible epidemic. Aside from the connection of our physical resemblance, I feel such a deep affection for her, partly because of how much my father loved her and partly because of what I know from a few letters she sent to her father-in-law, John Arthur McClellan, between 1914 and 1917.

In her letters, she talks of her life in Fullerton, Louisiana—of eating fresh peas from her garden and finding a milk cow and raising a few chickens. She talks of her worries about how many hours my grandfather, who she called “Joe,” and his brother Buell worked. Her deep love for my father (“Sonny Boy”) shines through when she writes about him. He was not quite two when she wrote, “I must say he is the cutest. When it comes to being rhowdy, tough, and mischievious. He dont seem like a baby. He is so stout and active. He is not one bit of trouble. Only have to watch him to keep him from running away. He can say so many cute words. We just think he is the grandest little Son on earth. Ha ha. Oh yes he can count to ten.”

Eventually, Pearl and Joe moved back to Texas from Fullerton, Louisiana, settling in Orange, on the Texas-Louisiana border. There Joe and Buell found work in the shipyards of Port Arthur, still struggling to keep steady work, still struggling to make ends meet. Pearl continued her efforts to make a happy, loving home for my father. However, in October 1918, tragedy hit the family. The influenza epidemic that was sweeping the world came to East Texas. Pearl was stricken with the disease and died within days. How devastated Joe must have been to lose his darling wife! She was only 22. My father, who was 4 at the time, never truly recovered from losing his mother. When he did speak of her in later years, a smile would come to his face, a mixture of the warmth of sweet memories and the sadness of loss.

History tells us about dates and events. Family stories tell us about how history played out in everyday lives. How lucky I am to have these letters, a few photos, and a handful of documents that bring to life my dear Grandma Pearl. Rest in peace, sweet woman.