This is my maternal grandmother Irene Quine Covington (1902 - 1988) with her little brother Charles Preston Covington (1905-1977). I wasn't around my grandmother Irene Davidson much while growing up because she lived in California. I did get to know her as she started visiting Gadsden, AL and eventually moved here after grandfather Fred Davidson's death in 1981.
Most of my mother's siblings, with the exception of aunt Ina Davidson Chunn and my uncle Buster Davidson had migrated West before I was born. I only remember seeing my grandfather two times in my lifetime. It was great finally getting to know my grandmother when she lived here.
She was an unusual person who spoke her mind and spoke it loud. When she was quiet, she seemed to be going deep into memories she kept to herself. She was a helluva cook. Whenever she performed her magic in the kitchen, friends tried their darndest to get themselves invited over for supper. It took some time for her to warm up to me but when she did, I could get her to laughing with little effort. In a way she was a stranger in our midst. She was kinfolk and it only took a little time to adjust and get to know one another.
It didn't take long. Her love was unique and genuine. I'd kiss her on her cheek and she'd smile with tears welling in her eyes. I didn't hear her say "I love you", but it was written all over her face. She didn't have to.
|Fred and Irene Davidson|