Connections

By G. E. Shuman

I was unsure, several days ago, if the subject I wanted to write to you about this week was one that I should share. This feeling often happens to me, when I get that first ‘germ’ of an idea for a story. I then usually wait and look for some outward indication that I should pursue the subject. You can call such an indication luck, or an omen, or coincidence, or even a sign from God. Since I am no believer in luck or omens, one of the latter two reasons might be the case, in the case of my writings. Yes, I do believe in coincidences, and definitely in signs from God. I do not presume to say that God directs my words, but I like to think that He is interested in them, and might lend me a hand now and then.

What caused me to decide to go ahead with my idea for this column was something I witnessed last weekend. My son attends the high school youth group of our church, and I had just entered their meeting room, to pick him up after their usual Sunday evening get together. As I entered the room, I saw the teens seated in two long rows of folding metal chairs, closely facing each other, with Jason, their youth leader, sitting at one end of the rows. The game the kids were playing required them to hold hands down their long row. Jason flipped a coin, and the first time it came up ‘heads’ each row was to squeeze each other’s hands, as quickly as possible, passing the squeeze down the row to the end person in their line. That person, the first to get the final squeeze, quickly snatched a cup of water from another chair at the end of his row and threw it on the opposing team. The game, repeated many times, was fun to watch, and the wet results hilarious to see. It was a simple connection of many hands down a row, transmitting a very real message to the guy at the end of the line.

You may think the connection that this game has with my subject is a tenuous one at best, but, you see, I had been thinking exactly about connections. I mean the connections we each have with family, and friends, but also the connections we have through time. My example is a certain connection that I have with the past, as follows.

In the very early years of the twentieth century, my grandfather and his parents ran a large boarding house in the small town of Palermo, Maine. Gramp was only thirteen when put in charge of caring for the horses and wagons of the guests of The Shuman Home. He disliked the horses, but did those chores as the dutiful son that he was. One benefit to him was in getting to know returning visitors to the region. One of those visitors happened to be a person of considerable wealth and fame for her time. The tiny lady’s maiden name had been Lavinia Bump, and when Gramp knew her she was the widow of the famous Tom Thumb. You may remember that Tom Thumb, who’s real name was Charles Sherwood Stratton, was a very little man, who in his youth had been discovered by P.T. Barnum. He gained much fame and fortune performing at the Barnum museum, and became a world traveler, meeting with many of the world’s leaders of the time. Mr. and Mrs. Thumb were frequent visitors to the White House precisely during the years of our Civil War. Unfortunately, Mr. Thumb passed away at the age of only forty five. His wife lived into her seventies. She, her second husband, and their manager stayed at the Shuman guest house several times. Once gramp even took them fishing on the Branch Pond, near the home.

Before I bore you to sleep with more detail, let me tell you the ‘connection’ point which has struck me as significant, or at least interesting. When I was a young man, and Gramp Shuman was still alive, I was unaware that he had once known the diminuative Mrs. Thumb. I wish I could go back now and ask Gramp to tell me about her, and any stories she may have shared with him. Recently, each time I think of my grandfather, I am reminded of that long ago friendship, and the connection that he had with that interesting person. Here is the reason. To me it is an amazing thought, that I have known a man well, who once had a friend who had also been a friend of Abraham and Mary Todd Lincoln.

Human connections can be many things, from a hand holding game played by a long line of teens, to friendships held on to for many years. Such connections really can reach through time further than we may ever know, perhaps even further than the span of our own lives. As a dad and a granddad myself, I want to be a part of long lasting connections. I also want to be careful what messages I transmit to the guy at the end of the line.