CHRISTmas

"Silver Bells, Silver Bells, it's Christmas time in the city..."

It is that time of year when we rush around trying to buy the perfect gift for that special someone.  In our rushing we become irritated; tired; and just plain mean,  Yes, I said mean.

People push and bump each other trying to fill their shopping carts with decorations and presents.  Babies cry because they are tired and hungry.  Mama is trying to get home where she will cook, clean-up, decorate, and wrap presents. 

Wait!  It is Christmas!  It is a joyous time of the year.  Where is our Christmas Spirit?  Surely we didn't leave it at the store.

Christmas stories on the television show beautifully decorated houses, plenty of goodies that Mama had time to make and still get her shopping completed.  The snow is falling outside and a warm inviting fire burns in the fireplace.  Awww.  The perfect Christmas; however, our lives are not Christmas stories.  They are real lives where we get very tired; and sometimes, we lose our Christmas Spirit!

If you have lost your Christmas Spirit, just listen to a child.  Gracie just told me,  "That it was CHRISTmas.  That's the way I learned it," she said.  Out of the mouths of babes...

Children can bring us back to the reality of what we are celebrating.  Jesus' birthday.

Thank you Gracie for reminding me that we are preparing to celebrate the birth of Jesus.  This isn't about the decorations or the presents.  It is about the Christ Child born in a manager in Bethlehem.

It is me again, Lord, thanking You for Your Birth, Your Death, and Your Resurrection.

A little Georgia Wisdom:  If you are having a difficult time getting your decorations, your shopping, your Christmas planning together, just stop and remember the real reason we celebrate Christmas.


MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! 

Uncle Hollis Barters Cane Syrup



William and Lena Ward Smith Family
At the funeral of Uncle Mickey Broome

 My grandfather, William Smith, passed away a few months before my daddy, Billy, was born.  He was the youngest.  Grandpa Smith asked his eldest son, Hollis, (the one on the left) who was just 18 years old to care for the family when he was gone.  Their mother died from cancer when Billy was just a year old. 

This is just one of the many stories which defines the tough stock of a Georgia mountain family in the late 1920s.  Theirs is the story of brothers and sisters caring and loving their younger siblings in a time of a Great Depression.

Daddy often told about carrying cane syrup and cornbread to school for lunch in a lard bucket. This was all the food they had at that time; but, one family had even less than they did.   They didn't have syrup only the cornbread.   The children went home from school one day and told Uncle Hollis how this family didn't have anything to eat.

Uncle Hollis didn't want to embarrass the folks by giving them what might be mistaken for a handout.   Southern folks, especially mountain folks, are a proud people and Uncle Hollis respected this.

Uncle Hollis carried jars of cane syrup that he had made in the fall over to this family.   Instead of giving it to them, he asked if he could supply them in syrup in exchange for their help in preparing his fields for planting in the spring. (This is an example of the barter system in place during the lean times.)  The gentlemen said he would be glad to help him by breaking-up the field in the spring and that the syrup was fair payment.

Winter warmed into spring, and Uncle Hollis had forgotten about the deal with his neighbor. One day after spring arrived, the neighbor and his sons were out in Uncle Hollis' field, breaking-up the ground and getting it ready for plowing and planting.  

Mountain people knew how to help each other and allow a person to retain his/her dignity.   Uncle Hollis was certainly a very smart and caring man.



Making syrup: Uncle Hollis  (the little boy is my dad, Billy) With Uncle Buford and Uncle Clyde


Uncle Hollis passed away in 1966; he was like a grandfather to me.   I still miss him.

He has been gone a long time, but his legacy lives on.

Cousin Barbara whose dad was my Uncle Clyde, another younger sibling who looked up to his older brother, said, "I think that Uncle Hollis and Aunt Emma did such a wonderful job of raising their siblings after they were left orphaned, and they instilled such good family values into their lives.   But I can say one thing for sure, my dad (Clyde) never lost his taste for cornbread and home made cane syrup.   That remained a staple for him his entire life, and would go to great lengths to find the "real" stuff when he could find it.. He also loved cornbread and milk or fresh buttermilk.

Uncle Hollis, Uncle Clyde, and Uncle Buford (the young boys) My dad is the youngest one.
Uncle Clyde remembered that the horse's name was Rhody.  This picture was made in the 1930s.

It is me again, Lord, thanking you for men and women like Uncle Hollis, Aunt Emma, Aunt Zadie, and Uncle Clarence who were not afraid to rise to the challenge of taking care of their younger brothers and sisters.

A little Georgia Wisdom:  A family, whose faith in God and His son Jesus, can do all things through Christ from whom they receive their strength.   This family gave their faith as the foundation for being able to keep this family together.



He Wore Prisoner's Pajamas, A Sister's Faith

One never knows how history will touch the future.

It was the winter of 1968, I was a nineteen year old working in the office of the local furniture factory. My office manager and boss was Mildred Hill. One day she came in with a map of Vietnam and pointed to an area on the map where the helicopter carrying her brother, Ben Purcell, had been shot down. He was declared missing in action.



Vietnam, 1968



Mildred confided in us that she knew, without a doubt, he was alive. She had dreamed the night before that he had come to her wearing the pajama like clothing and crude sandals of the Viet Cong. He sat down on the edge of her bed. He revealed to her in this dream that he was alive, and things were going to be okay. Mildred never gave up hope and kept the faith that he would one day return home.

With the dedication of Anne Purcell, Colonel Purcell's wife, his status was changed from Missing in Action to Prisoner of War.

For five years Mildred wrote letters, made phone calls, made a trip with Anne  to the Geneva Convention to seek information about her brother. She and Anne never gave up hope. The only assurance Mildred had was her dream in 1968. She would never give in to the fear that he might be lost.

In March, 1973, five years after his capture, the war in Vietnam was over. POWs were being released and among them, Colonel Ben Purcell. He had been a prisoner of war for five years with 58 months in solitary confinement. He had tried to escape on two different occasions. He was interrogated, tortured, and yet, he stood firm against the Viet Cong.

There was a local parade for our hometown hero. One of the most memorable moments is when every employee of Schnadig Furniture Company, Cornelia, Georgia came out to the highway to welcome home our hero, Ben Purcell.

There is no way to convey to you the pride of knowing this soldier had returned home. There were lots of tears that day for our hero. His sister, Mildred, never gave up hope and her positive attitude and faith kept people praying for this MIA /POW soldier we didn't know except through her reports.

Mildred had worked long and hard to get information about her brother, Ben, and now here he was alive and well waving to all of us from the back of a convertible.

Patriotism runs in deep in Habersham County. During this time period, many of the young men with whom I graduated high school were serving in Vietnam. We have the names of our heroes who didn't make it home engraved on a monument outside the courthouse in Clarkesville. Their names are also engraved on a polished black granite wall in Washington, D.C.

I was honored on 11-11-11 to sit at the table with Colonel Ben Purcell and his lovely wife, Anne. I related this story of the faith her sister-in-law had for his return. Anne gave me permission to tell this story of hope and the faith she and Mildred Hill had for Colonel Purcell's return.



Colonel Ben and Anne Purcell





Colonel and Anne Purcell have written a book, Love and Duty.  .  Each tell a story of the faith each had for his return.



It is me again, Lord, thanking you for the men and women who dedicate themselves to protecting our great nation and her people. We thank you for faithful family members who never give up hope and put their faith in You. We thank You for the lesson that began in 1968 to never give up hope and always keep the faith.

A little Georgia Wisdom: Take a moment to remember the sacrifices of men and women who served or who are now serving in our armed forces. Attend a Veteran's Day celebration or attend a memorial service to remember those who gave the ultimate price so we can remain a free nation. Shake hands with a veteran and tell him or her how much he or she is appreciated. God bless them all.

Camping in Broom Straw



Bruce and me

 Just by the title you are ahead of me, aren't you?  My cousin Bruce and I loved the outdoors.  We loved to roam the fields around the house and play in the red Georgia clay.  You can imagine what we looked like at the end of the day.  My brother Dwayne and his brother Earl were right there with us playing; however, when this story takes place both of them were too young to be involved.

Bruce and I had huge imaginations.  Everything had multiple personalities and uses.  The old silver propane gas tank in the back yard was a horse we rode on trail rides or across country in a wagon train; it was an elephant the time we went on a safari across Africa.  The may pops that grew in the yards and fields could be crafted into various cars, wagons, baskets, and bowls.  They were some times used as food items when we cooked on the stove made from bricks and small board placed across them with the tin lids from Chase & Sanborn Coffee cans (these cans were useful when we all shared our chocolate "candy" and peppermint chewing gum) nailed for stove eyes.

One day he and I decided to go camping.  It is at this point I should tell you that this was out in the country.  We didn't have to worry about strange people being around every corner. It someone had stopped to pick us up we were so covered with red dirt that they would not have allowed us a ride in the car.

I still remember Mama scrubbing our clothes in a washtub and wringer washing machine.  She had to really scrub my panties to get the dirt out.  I probably had red dirt stains on everything I owned as a child.

The day Bruce and I decided to camp it was a hot summer day.  His mother, my Aunt Opal was at work.  Mama was taking care of Earl, Dwayne, and my baby brother Eddie.  I don't remember where Bruce's sister Barbara was that day, but she was not with us.  Bruce and I had no supervision.  Of course, up to this point we didn't need any.

How do you light a wood stove?  Every home had a box of wooden matches near the stove.  We got a few to take with us from his house and began our camping journey. 

Behind his house was field of broom straw.  We played in it all the time and it just seemed like the place to camp.  We cleared us a spot to set up our camp.  We didn't need much room.  All we needed was a place for the two of us to sit and build our campfire.

We carefully built our fire from the broom straw we has pulled up for our campsite.  Bruce lit the fire.  I was afraid of the fire on the end of the match. Now, I am not blaming him for starting the fire; I am just letting you know the reason I didn't.  I am just a guilty as Bruce.  Remember we are in this together.

As the fire caught on, it began to spread to the surrounding broom straw.  The smoke rose above the field and we were taking broom straw to try to beat out the fire we had started.  The smoke rose, and we made a vow to not tell anyone about our misfortune.  The more we tried to stop the fire, the more it got out of hand.



 


To this day I do not remember who helped us put it out, but someone help save that whole field of broom straw.  Bruce may remember the details, I remember the fire. It was by the grace of God that the fire went away from Bruce's house.  I'm sure we were punished. 

It is me again, Lord, thanking you again for saving two well meaning children from a fire.

A little Georgia Wisdom:  Make sure you teach your children to stay away from matches and tell them to never try to put out a fire by themselves.


Thanks to Barbara, Bruce's sister for the photo.  You can see the fields behind the house.

"Come in and Make Yourself at Home"

 "Come in and make yourself at home," was the invitation Daddy always used when folks came to visit our family on Demorest-Mt. Airy Hwy.   Daddy and Mama wanted people to feel welcomed.  

When we were younger and our friends came to visit, they became members of our family. The unspoken motto was:  "if you put your feet under our table, you became family."

Mama always had the coffee pot on the stove, and the back door was always open.   They loved company, but most of all, they loved family company.   We have so many good memories of our aunts and uncle, cousins, grandparents, and neighbors coming to our house.   Before Mama got sick, one could always
have a piece of chocolate cake with that cup of coffee.   Mama loved chocolate! (I will tell you one day of growing us with homemade cocoa syrup.)

When folks started to leave our home after an evening of conversation, Daddy would always say, "if any of you'ns get sick, let us know."   Those were parting words that Daddy really meant.  

We grew up with family around us.  We got to know our family and friends as members of our own family.  One never knew who might stop by, but they were always welcome.  It was fun to hear the stories of times gone by or listen to the events of the day or week.  We loved having that connection to folks.  The kitchen table was the gathering place for the adults while we children played outside if the weather permitted. 

Making a living was hard for my parents when I was growing up, but living life was a treasure that is still buried in my heart.

There is not a day that goes by that I don't think about Daddy and Mama and the memories they left behind.   

It is me again, Lord, thanking you for the memories my parents made for me and the legacy of "come on in and make yourself at home."

A little Georgia Wisdom:  Friends and family come into your life for a reason. Don't miss the opportunity to love every minute of their visit.

Giving Birth to a Dream

Sitting here thinking about what I want to do with the rest of my life and coming to the realization that I have a lot of fears to overcome.

Have you ever thought about the fears that keep you from reaching your goals?  We give excuses:  I am too busy today to start today. At my age it will take me forever.  Tomorrow is a good day to begin.  The list could go on and on.  We make up reasons to postpone our adventure.

For years I have thought about writing a book.  The thoughts are in my head all the time, yet I can't seem to pull it together.  It is as if I am another person when I think about beginning the adventure.  That is the way I see this book as, an adventure.  Every great adventure begins with one step.  My first step was telling you about my idea.

A book is like giving birth.  First there is the conception.  The idea is planted in the heart and mind.  The next step is to let it grow.  My book has been growing in my mind for a very long time.  I write it in the car; while watching television; while lying in bed.  My mind doesn't stop.   Unfortunately for me, it is still in that grey womb called the brain.  It grows and grows, but I just can't seem to give birth to it.

Who would want to read it?  I ask myself. 

Maybe all the information nestled in my brain will eventually reach its due date, and I can give birth to the stories growing there. 

In the meantime, this blog has helped me immensely. It is a wonderful feeling to share the stories buried in my heart with you.

Thank you, Lord, for friends you can confide in with the longings of your heart.

A little Georgia Wisdom:  Today is the day to begin your new adventure.

Brother Ray

People come into our lives many different ways.  We are connected by chance, by choice, and by birth.  It is by birth that I met my "brother" Ray. 

Ray is six years and three days older than I.  He probably waited anxiously for his older sister to bring home a new baby and make him an uncle.  I guess I was his birthday present.  For years we shared birthday celebrations and birthday cake.  Once I complained and they baked two cakes.  Ray never seem to mind how we celebrated our birthdays and as we grew up didn't mind having his younger "sister" to tag along.

Ray taught me how to ride a bicycle; to swim; to dance; and to sing.  (He was an excellent pianist and organized a group of us young teens to sing specials in church.) He also told me about Santa Claus to include the details about how he had helped wrap the presents.  That little bit of information about Santa could have waited for a couple of more years.

In the summer we spent many days at Russell Lake with friends and cousins.  I was always with him. I loved the idea he could drive and didn't mind having me tag along.  Once my cousin Susan and I rode to town with him in his 1954 Ford.  Susan and I waited in the hot car, with windows down, while Ray ran into the post office.  A nice newer model car pulled up beside us.  There was a young girl, much like ourselves, sitting with the windows up.  We knew she had air conditioning in her new car.  Not to be out done by our parking space neighbor, Susan and I rolled up our windows.  We sat there, with sweat rolling down our faces, to the point we could barely breathe.  Wait, you are getting ahead of me.

Ray came out of the post office.  He opened the door and asked if we were crazy.  Several factors came into play:  1) the car was not running; therefore, the air conditioner could not run; and 2) Ray's 1954 Ford did NOT have air conditioning.  Susan and I were sitting in a hot car, in 90 degree weather, with the windows rolled up.  It took a long time to live this little episode down, and he told everyone about our adventure with(out) air conditioning.

I have so many wonderful memories of my time with Ray.  He carried me to church. He helped me with homework when I didn't want to do it.  He encouraged me in my pursuit of a higher education. He listened to my pain when I needed an ear, and he offered gentle advice when I needed it the most. 

The day he married, I was maid of honor and Margaret's brother was best man.  I cried after the wedding when no one could see.  I felt I had lost him forever; however, he never let that happen. 

Ray was drafted in the army and while he was in Officer Training School in Columbus, I rode a bus to stay with Margaret for a weekend.  I was his sister.  When his daughter was born, I felt I was an aunt.  It was a wonderful experience having an older "brother."

Years later, when Barry and I got married, Ray escorted me down the isle. We had come full circle.  I have so many heartfelt and funny stories about growing up in our little part of the world.  I think, like many younger siblings, I embarrassed him many times, but he never stopped loving me nor me him.

As I continue to write my blog, I will share more stories about my "brother" Ray.  There was the time that Susan and I went cruising with her brother Tom and Ray.  That day they got so mad at us for flirting with boys and drove us back home.  It wasn't the flirting that made them so angry; it was the fact the boys starting following us in their car (we continued to encourage them by waving from the backseat).  When Ray and Tom got out of the car, they were so mad they took a short cut and jumped a bush to tell on us.  My mom said later she knew by the way they jumped the bush, they were mad at something we had done.  That anger didn't last any longer than it took for them to tell on us.  We loved them for that short lived temper.

God brings people we need into our lives, and they teach us lessons.  Some lessons are just too hard and we long to forget them; however, some folks are God's gift to us.  Ray was my gift.

It is me again, Lord, thanking you for the people who enter our lives by chance, by choice, and especially by birth.

A little Georgia Wisdom:  Never forget those who are responsible for caring, loving, and shaping the person you become.