Autobiography 1; September 23, 2010

One of the ideas I’ve been thinking about for a while is using this blog to write an autobiography; a way to understand who and what I am by examining where I came from and who I was.  I don’t know if it will be of interest to anyone but me, but I figure, what the hell. I have to write about something, and I am the subject I know best.

Now, this will be MY story. Other people will be described, obviously, but they will be described through my perceptions, and memories. I’ll will be as honest as possible, and I’ll try to be as accurate as possible, but please remember that everything I relate is being shaded by my own point of view.

So, with that in mind, let’s get this story started….

Many years ago, more than I care to remember, when I first started a blog on Live journal I had to enter a description when setting up the profile, and I came up with  this, “I am a Nebraskan refugee currrently living in Memphis. I’m an active member of the Society for Creative Anachronism, an avid reader, and I appreciate good music, good friends, and good conversation. I do not suffer fools gladly, and do not like those that let others do their thinking for them. The most profound bit of philosophy I have ever heard is this: “If you can make another laugh, you have made the world a better place”. Seven years later, I still think that is a good description. I mention it here because of the first five words, “I am a Nebraskan refugee”.

You see, my family, my people, are not from the South. My people are the people of the Great Prairie of Western Nebraska, and the cornfields of Iowa and Illinois. That’s where the story starts. Specifically, it starts in O’Neil Nebraska, and it starts with my parents.

CormacMom was born in Holt County Nebraska on May 9, 1944.   A t the time  Grandpa and Grandma Butterfield were farmer’s and the family lived approximately 30 miles from O’Neil, which is the largest town in Holt County. When Mom was five or six, to be honest I’m not quite sure how old she was, Grandpa lost the farm and the family moved into O’Neil. Grandpa got a job as  truck driver, hauling gravel for the county, and Grandma (who to this day is one of the most impressive people I’ve ever had the honor to know) took care of the four kids.

CormacDad was born in Havana Illinois, and I quite frankly have no idea what county it’s in. Grandpa Fletcher was a farmer that raised turkeys. Grandpa Fletcher didn’t own his land; he was more a “farm manager”. He  and his family lived on the farm and ran it, made all the decisions, etc, but the farm was owned by someone else. When Dad was 16 his father took a job a similar job for Tri -State farms, and moved to O’Neil.

The stage was now set.