Memories of Mama and Daddy

As I sit here this Christmas Eve, I miss my Mama and Daddy. They've both been gone a long time, but I have great memories. My daddy, Hersey Raymond Outlaw, was born Feb. 19, 1913. He never did anything that made him famous, he didn't have much of an education. He was a quiet man, happy. I honestly can't recall many times that I saw him angry. He had to drop out of school in elementary school to help out at home, since his daddy had only one leg and one arm. My mama, Lida Evora Overton, was born June 15, 1917. She and daddy married young; he was 19 and she was 15. They had four children, Jean, Ronald, Faye and me. My siblings were 10, 12 and 15 years older than me. I guess I was an "afterthought". My parents didn't have much in the way of material things; my sisters and brother less than I did. By the time I came along, their life was a little easier. They were farmers, never owning their own farm, but farming for others. We always had a nice home to live in. I was either 3 or 4 when their home burned, taking everything we had. My mama had a cut on her wrist from breaking a glass in the living room window and reaching in for a box of pictures sitting on the couch. I remember looking at those pictures and some of them had dried blood on the back of them.

When I was about 9 or 10, we moved to Merry Hill. We had always lived around the area; but now we lived in the "city" proper. Mama and Daddy bought a little house located beside the Merry Hill Baptist Church. We lived there until my Daddy died, I married and moved away and Mama moved to a house on Hwy. 17 to be close to my sister, Jean and her family. This little house actually only had 4 rooms; kitchen, living room and 2 bedrooms - no bath. I was old enough that I thought having no bathroom in the house was the end of the world. I had to go through their bedroom to get to my mine. The house had an unfinished attic that Daddy eventually fixed up for me. I had a little bedroom on one end and a living room on the other . I thought I had died and gone to heaven. My bedroom was turned into a bathroom. Thank you LORD. I had a happy childhood. I was
spoiled, rotten. I was loved. Don't get me wrong, there were arguments/disagreements like every family has; but we were happy. In the winter, Daddy would work for R & W Chevrolet as a mechanic and Mama worked as a clerk in Collins Department Store, both in Windsor.

A couple of years after moving to Merry Hill, Mama and Daddy started running a little grocery store. It's hard to believe there were three little stores right at the crossroads in Merry Hill and all three of them made a living. My Daddy stilled farmed and mostly Mama worked in the store. Daddy was called the mayor because you had to come to our store to register and vote. I thought this was really neat. Then, you had to be able to read part of the constitution in order to register. (side note-when I went to Bertie High School, there was a girl who was quite a snob and was so proud because her dad was president of the bank; I always felt superior because my dad was mayor of Merry Hill.) I really didn't think too much of the whole farming thing as a way of life. It was really hard work. By this time, my sisters and brother all had their own familes and lives. I was the only one left at home to help out. Since Mama could take care of the store by herself, my lot was to go with Daddy. Of course, I would have gone anywhere with Daddy so I guess it wasn't such a chore after all. I never learned to do what was considered "girly" things like cooking, laundry, canning vegetables, making pickles, jams and jellies. But I did learn to iron. My Mama (or rather I) ironed everything, even my Daddy's underwear. Then you starched clothes and they were hard as bricks when you took them off the clothes line; no clothes dryer back then. I would sprinkle the clothes with water, roll them up, put them in a bag and put them in the refrigerator until I was ready to iron. Today, I don't own an iron. There's one in my house, but it belongs to my son, Ray and he left it here when he moved to Alaska. My Daddy taught me to middle bust, disk, make rows, sow fertilizer and seed, use a mule and cart, weeding hoe, tractor and tobacco harvester. I drove a John Deere tractor and I'm sure my name was mentioned (with a few curse words) every morning about 5:30 when I started that thing. It was kept under a shed attached to a tobacco barn that had a metal roof. When I started it, everything within a five mile radius woke up. I especially liked to disk down the tobacco stalks because that meant the tobacco season was over. No more hot days in the fields trying to top tobacco stalks that were over your head and wet with dew. I don't mean to make it sound like drudgery because it wasn't; just hard work and I was a teenager, who like most teenagers, thought hard work were two four-letter words. One of the things I liked to do best, regarding tobacco, was to take out a barn of tobacco. There probably isn't much of this done anymore. Everything is so automated and I think today, they just take the entire stalk of tobacco instead of having several tobacco pullings. Taking out the tobacco worked better if you have 4 people to do it, but as I got taller, Daddy and I could do by ourselves. I would get on the tier poles, take 2 sticks of tobacco, pass them down to Daddy and he would put them on the truck or trailer. This had to be done before you could get on with the regular work of the day.


The top picture, of course, is my Mama. This was taken in either 1967 or 1968. The other 2 are my Daddy. The first was taken when he was in his early 20's, in the yard beside his Daddy's house. The second was taken in the little house in Merry Hill; he's holding my brother's son, Little Bud. I really don't know the year; probably early 60's. Daddy had a severe heart attack the year I was in the seventh grade. He made a full and quick recovery, much to the doctor's surprise and went right back to farming. He died on April 30, 1966, my senior year in high school. I really miss him a lot. Earlier, I said that he had never done anything that made him famous; but he was a great man. To me, he was the greatest. I know I have done some things in my life that have disappointed him but I always knew he loved me. He loved to fish, was an avid deer hunter, farmed, ran a store, was a mechanic, carpenter, friend to everyone, loved to sing but couldn't carry a tune in a bucket and cooked the best barbecue (chicken and pork) you ever tasted. I can never remember anyone saying a bad thing about him. He was a terrific granddaddy. I truly regret that my sons never knew him. My Mama was a great seamstress; she could look at a pattern and go home and make the article of clothing. Most of my clothes were home made and I was always proud, when complimented on an outfit, to say, "Oh, my Mama made this." She died December 30, 1994 after 3 and 1/2 years in a nursing home. Mama and I weren't as close as Daddy and I but I still miss her a lot. My sons did know my Mama and went to spent part of each summer with her until her health go so bad, she wasn't able to take care of them. I was confined to bed several weeks before each birth and she came and stayed with me when TJ was born and I stayed with her when Raymond was born.

My parents didn't have much in the way of material things to leave their children, but they left us a great heritage . I was raised in a home full of love and respect for others. None of us were given a car when we turned 16 and got our driver's license. We were raised to be hard workers and to not expect anyone to just give us something; we had to earn it.

One of the best Christmas memories I have of my Daddy was when I was about 13 or 14. I have always loved stuffed animals, still do. This particular Christmas, Santa brought me a stuffed chimpanzee. He was about 16 inches tall, had the usual rubber mouth, ears, hands and feet, but his body was covered with real bear hair. He was beautiful. I was in my room upstairs and I could hear Mama and Daddy talking and I remember that my mother's parents were staying with us for the holidays. Daddy kept saying he wanted to call me downstairs to see what Santa had left. Mama kept saying no, let her wait until morning. I guess they didn't know I was awake. I finally heard Daddy open the door and quietly come up the steps. He called my name, softly and I sat up in the bed. When he saw I was awake, he threw something at me. All I saw was this hairy thing coming at me and I screamed. When it landed in the bed and I saw what it was, I was thrilled. It became one of my favorite stuffed animals and I later named him after my first boyfriend. One of my nieces, Gail, who was only about 7 years younger than me, always wanted to play with it and I was not very gracious about sharing. After I was "all grown up" I gave the chimpanzee to her. I figured she had always wanted it and now was the time to pass it on. We were really close to being adults at this time. I don't know if she still has it or not. I'll have to remember to ask her.

Mama always worked hard to make Christmas special for us. Usually on Christmas morning, Mama, Daddy and I would visit the grandchildren that lived within reach to see what Santa had brought them. Then, back home so Mama could prepare dinner. She was a great cook; something I wished she had passed on to me.

Let me tell you about my most special Christmas memory of Mama. We had a snow and ice storm that year. My husband and I were separated and he had the boys for Christmas Eve, was supposed to bring them home Christmas Day. His mother thought it best they stay because of the weather. The roads were covered in ice, power lines were down, a really bad storm. Naturally, my heart was broken. Not only were they not going to be able to get home but we weren't going to be able to go home to Mama's house. My electricity had also gone off, but I had a kerosene heater and a fireplace. Christmas morning I was sitting home, feeling sorry for myself, when my phone rang. It was Bud Mitchell, a friend from church. His wife later told me they were sitting at the breakfast table and he told her he felt a strong urge to call me and check on me. When he asked how I was, I told him I was sad and told him why. He said to sit tight, he and his son, Brian, would be over soon to get me. We were going to Nags Head to get my boys. I bundled up in the warmest clothes I had and was ready when they got here. If you have ever seen the movie Dr. Zhivago and remember how the house looked with all the snow and ice, you'll know how the road to Nags Head looked. We had to dodge snow drifts and power lines. But we got my boys and got back home. After, we had seen what Santa had delivered, we talked about going to see Mama. While they were getting ready to go, packing up their favorite toy, etc, I went to get my car out of the snow drift. I got it out, but as I was trying to get it headed in the right direction out my driveway, I slipped into the ditch. It was only about 10 inches deep, but it might as well have been 6 feet deep. I couldn't get it out and I was so discouraged. I went back into the house to break the news, but they had been watching from the window. I was trying to keep a smile on my face, but it was hard. It was about lunch time, so we had hot dogs and marshmallows toasted in the fireplace, hot chocolate and chips for Christmas dinner. That wasn't too bad, after all we were together. Another church friend and his son-in-law came over to Manns Harbor a little after that to try out a new shotgun. As they went by my house and saw my situation, they came back and checked on us. When they found out I was trying to get the car out to go to Mama's, they offered to help. Arvin told me to pack up my car, get ready to go and meet them outside. Marc hooked up a release rope to his Toyota truck and my car and with 3 jerks had my car back on the driveway. We all piled in and he pulled us down the driveway and onto Hwy. 64. I have never been so grateful in my life. I guess you are wondering why this is one of my best Christmas memories of my Mama. In June of the following year she was put in the nursing home. She suffered from Alzheimer's and other things and this was the last Christmas that her mind was good, she knew all of us and we had a great Christmas. God really watched out for my family that Christmas and sent angels to help us out.

I didn't intend to make this such a long post and I hope I haven't bored you. I could talk about my family for hours, as you can see. I want to take this opportunity to wish each and every one of you that read this a very Merry Christmas and may God grant you a very blessed and happy New Year.

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