Gramma and Grampa Kenyon grew up in poor circumstances. Gramma was a “townie” and her family was either rich or broke, no in-between, depending on how his poker game was going. Her father, my grandfather, “Sport Davis”, only held one real job in his whole life. He was a weigh master for the state of Michigan in the new highway going up north. His jobs came from ill-gotten gain and graft. He was, however, the most astute poker player I had ever known, except for my mom.

He was also mayor of our hometown Grand Ledge, during the Depression. He attained this position by helping stuff ballot boxes for Frank Fitzgerald, who became governor of MI. His grandfather was the first M.D. in Grand Ledge, a U of M graduate no less. But he made his real money selling “snake oil”, cough syrup loaded with cocaine and probably laudanum.

My great-great grandfather’s two sons, Clem and Ellsworth, ended up becoming pharmacists for the drug store in town that my grandfather owned. Unfortunately, they partook of the fruit of the tree. And Clem, my great-grandfather and Ellsworth, my great-great uncle, both died in their early 40s, one from delirium tremens and the other from syphilis and addiction to opiates.

They each had one son. Ellsworth had my great-uncle, Ward Davis and Clem had my grandfather, Willard Davis. He was the one called “Sport”. At one time, he won a yacht coming back from WWI on the boat playing poker. They lived on it for one full summer. He was a legend in Grand Ledge. If you go into Preston’s Bar on North Bridge Street and shout out, “I’m Sport Davis’ grandchild”, people will gather around and say things like: “I beat him once at poker, well, no, we tied!”

Josh: Insert below to story above. I am unsure where this goes to make sense of family history.

However, my great-gramma Kerrie worked her fingers to the bone to keep up the grocery store they owned. Everyone lived with her in the apartment above the store. “Everyone” included my great-grampa Clem who ran the drugstore, my grandfather “Sport” who kept Preston’s bar in business by filling up the tables at the back with poker players, my Gramma Grace Marguerite and Gramma and Grampa’s first child, Dorothy. Nine years later along came my mother, Cynthia Ann and a year after that, my aunt Margaret, the baby of the family.

Meanwhile, my grandfather had enlisted in the army and took a slow boat to France. Just as they landed the war was declared over.