Unity Is Our Strength

By W. F. Twyman, Jr.

[Introduction: It does not fit the narrative to write “Unity Is Our Strength.” We are supposed to believe “Diversity Is Our Strength.” Over the past ten years, I have reached out to distant cousins who happened to be white Americans. Through private acts of unity have I contributed to a stronger sense of one family and one country. Something is off with dogma and slogan words like Diversity, Equity and Inclusion. How many diversity programs have done the hard work of bringing blood kin together across the color line? That is true and lasting strength.]

Originally Posted December 24, 2021

Another Twyman Sits in Heaven

Gene Twyman, Bill Twyman, Robert Daniel Twyman, James Scott Twyman, Willie Ernest Twyman, Sr., Bruce Twyman, Elaine Christian Twyman, Rosa Nell Brown Twyman Jackson, Myra Denise Twyman and Lourine Womack Twyman have now been joined by another one of us Twymans. Our family extends our love and prayers to the family of the wonderful, open and warm-hearted Elizabeth Twyman Anderson.

In this world, there are two kinds of people. Some people pass on and are never remembered as they did not shine their light on others while here on earth. Others through the grace of God made their family and the world a better place in ways large and small. Because of Elizabeth and others like Jimmy and Nathan and Rosa, I found the strength and reassurance to live in truth beyond the color line. It is lonely sometimes to see a better way of being in the world while others are content to live unexamined lives.

Elizabeth was my kindred spirit. All my love to your family. Your love for history made us all a better people:

From: Elizabeth Twyman Anderson

To: Wink

Sent: Thursday, February 22, 2018, 11:24:18 PM PST

Subject: Twyman Family Connections

No words to express how much I enjoyed your article about the hunt for distant ancestors. Just WOW. I have found a kindred spirit....my family teases me about looking for dead people.

Yes, our shared direct ancestor is Samuel Twyman. He has been such a puzzle for me---last of my directs who died in Virginia. His son Finas Paschal Twyman died in Missouri. Finas and possibly two brothers came to Missouri. Two of Samuel's children stayed in Virginia and the others went to Kentucky. On my tree in progress, I have 8 children listed for him. Apparently I need to add his other children! I have searched online for any information regarding Samuel with little success. If memory is correct, I believe the slave owners settled in Kentucky and I have found no evidence of the Missouri Twymans having slaves. We moved in November therefore my notes and files on each person are in boxes. I WILL get back to those.

I have not reached out to my black cousins, however I have just now started "reaching" out and hope to make more connections, Before he died, Gene Twyman contacted me and we had some great conversations. What a nice man. I understand little about DNA but I'm determined to conquer the subject despite that I find it daunting. My brother and I have our DNA results on Family Tree. I also have results on Ancestry, When I can make the time, I will get on Gedmatch.com. I could spend countless hours on this, but life gets in the way.

It is a blessing to have such a variety of ancestors regardless of skin color, background, etc. My children are somewhat ethnic in appearance. I find it quite humorous when someone asks me about that. I'm still looking for the "slanty eyed" ancestors on my mother's side! I suspect, but doubt that I will ever find definitive proof that my mother's ancestors were mulungeons. They were backwoods people of the Virginia and West Virginia mountains.

The media wants us to believe that all black people are in the Black Lives Movement and I find that so damaging to race relations. Frankly, I don't see in my friends what they want to believe is happening in all of America. Yes, there is bigotry, hatred, etc. for ridiculous reasons--it is real. But I think most of us want to accept others as friends and neighbors---most are good hearted people. Sadly I have seen ugly behavior. As the grandmother of three little Jewish girls and the surrogate grandmother of two little handicapped Chinese boys, I can see that many people just haven't learned that different is good!

Thanks for giving advice about African American versus Black American. I'm not much into this politically correct nonsense, but I do believe in courtesy and consideration of feelings. Having a Jewish son-in-law and granddaughters makes me sensitive to this--and yes antisemitism exists in America.

Your description of your childhood is wonderful. I could almost visualize the street and the families. What a wonderful sense of community. Much of what you describe in your relationships with your father and sister seems familiar. My Dad really wanted us to know our place and be happy where we were, never understood our desire to move from one job to another even though it was always upward. When we built our first house, he just could not understand why we needed a "fancy, big" house. My brother made the decision to remain on the farm and has a quiet retirement living on social security and savings. I just want to tell him, stop complaining. You made the choice.

No child had as magical a childhood as mine. Ha. We lived on a farm in Missouri, white picket fence, white house (though badly in need of painting) and fields of corn, beans and wheat all around. We could walk to a small lake and throw in our cane poles, no parental supervision. We had dogs, kittens, sheep, hogs, lots of chickens, at least one milk cow, and a couple of horses. As the youngest and the only daughter, I was the princess and my Dad treated me as such. In fact, in his immediate family, I was the first Twyman girl born in 65 years. Therefore I grew up under the magnifying glass of some wonderful Twyman men and expected to be a lady, well behaved and I always had protection from the world. I could not have asked for more. I even had parents that were still crazy in love. Until I was an adult, I had no idea how poor we really were. My mom was a teacher and Dad farmed. You can imagine the ugliness of the real world as I grew up was hard.

The first year of integration was my first grade. My parents never mentioned it or made a deal of it like some parents did. In fact, I was naive enough to think blacks and whites always went to school together. My best friends that year were two little black twin girls, Faye and Kaye. Every day they came in matching dresses, starched and pressed, white anklet socks and Mary Janes. I was fascinated with their little braids and bows. I finally had some girl friends other than the ones I knew from church! I was crushed when they moved and I never saw them again.

The small town nearest to our farm was a village that had formed when the railroads were built. My maternal grandfather was a crew superintendent for years on the railroad. Triplett, MO was probably about 300-400 people at its peak. By the time I was in college, the city limit sign said Pop. 52. As my mother was growing up, blacks lived on one side of the Wabash Railroad track and whites lived on the other. When I was a kid, my parents were very friendly with the black community. My mother knew most of them because of her father. And, my dad had grown up there as well. We would stop and visit with each other, blacks and white, downtown in front of the little grocery store and drug store (with a soda fountain). I became aware of racism downtown Triplett. Not everyone was kind and friendly. Some were hateful or just rude. I'd ask my mother about it and she would just say that is just the way some people are. The maddest and the saddest I ever saw my sweet little mom was the day the church board said a black missionary could not speak at the church. She told them what she thought then got in our car and cried for awhile then pulled away from the church throwing rocks as she went.

Dad didn't always need help on the farm, but when a black friend or two would show up needing work, he would find something for them to do if he had the cash at the time. They would bring their lunches and sit under a tree in the yard, always talking and laughing. I would take them water or cookies and they were always sweet and nice to me. One gentleman and his two little boys would pull in our driveway, honk the horn for Dad's attention, ask for $25-$50, they would visit for awhile. A week or two later the man would drive in and pay Dad back. The boys were very popular in our school and well-liked and respected. The older boy, Herb, attended the same college as I did. He finally had plenty of black friend and seemed to having a great college life, but he changed from sweet Herb too a bitter and angry young man. I would see him on campus and always happy to see him and we would visit for just a minute. However, a couple of times when he was with his friends, he snubbed me and looked right through me. About the third time he did that, I spoke his name loudly and asked if he would visit for a quick minute. He didn't want to, but he did. I told him we had known each other since we were little kids, and I didn't expect him to ever walk by me again like he didn't see me. He shrugged his shoulders and walked away. But, he never snubbed me again.

Why am I telling you this? I saw subtle racism in my family, but not overt, and I was not taught to be racist but I think any of us who deny their own racism is a hypocrite. In contrast, I had friends who were "taught" racism by their parents. One of the most racist people I ever knew was the father of a good friend. He would not allow his children to talk to or associate with a black person. I still know his daughters to this day. Sweet kind people, but they missed out on some wonderful opportunities for friendships and experiences because their dad taught them to fear someone because of skin color. How can a parent scar their child by teaching them hate and fear?

You might find it interesting that we lived in a part of Missouri called "The Little Dixie" which is an area of about 17 counties settled by southerners from Virginia, Kentucky, Tennessee. As I have aged, I look back and see that I was raised in a very southern culture. I have a passion (and I do NOT know why) for Civil War History. Even Missouri natives don't realize the impact on our state.

In your writing you express so much of what I feel. Searching for dead relatives, in some way, helps me find myself. When I find a new bit of info I'm excited and pleased to know more. George III gave us a great legacy and what a man he must have been. My husband humored me this past July and took me on a road trip which I labeled "Our Great American History Tour". I surprised him by taking him to the grave of his third great grandfather. A few tears were shed by that grave. He finally felt what I was trying to explain to him about the thrill of discovering family history. We drove to Virginia, stopping at a few historical sites along the way.

We stayed three nights in Charlottesville, drove to Twyman's Mill, Oak Lawn, past the church, etc. The feelings of history, of heritage, of belonging, of being part of something bigger all swept over me. I think my best moment was in the drive into Oak Lawn and looking over the pasture knowing that George III's grave was out there somewhere.

We also visited Monticello (have you read the George III was friends with T. Jefferson?) Stratford Hall was fascinating for me....and touching. I love American History and our ancestors made a difference.

One question in closing, did you and cousins really meet at the church and on to Oak Lawn or were you imagining what could be? I would love to be a part of that.

So many times I will think about myself and my children and wonder which ancestor gave them which characteristic or trait. Yesterday I looked into my 16 month-old granddaughter's eyes and saw my Dad looking back at me. The big brown eyes, but even more, the attitude, the openness, a set jaw. My 37 year-old son is a mystery to us. Where did he get the wanderlust, the freedom to live by the seat of his pants and why is he excessively stubborn and independent? He would have been a great frontiersman, hunter, forager. I think he was born in the wrong dimension. I also think he and George III would have had some fabulous conversations.

Warmest Regards,

Elizabeth

Left — 5th Cousin Elizabeth Twyman Anderson