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.

A GREAT VISIT WITH A GREAT LADY

There is a lady in my church named Joyce Jelinek. She is a very gracious, nice and genteel lady.  She is by herself; her children grown and out on their own.  She moved here a few years ago from Florida.  She is a very interesting lady.  She celebrated her 80th. birthday in the summer.  You would never guess her age to be 80; she has beautiful unlined skin, a bright smile and her spirit is very young. Her body is beginning to betray her.  She had an injury to one of her knees many years ago and now her “good” knee is causing some severe pain; she has a lot of back pain. But, she never complains.  She hasn’t been able to attend church the last couple of Sundays since it is so terribly painful for her to get up and down and in and out of vehicles.

She called me yesterday and asked me to have dinner with her last night.  Of course, I accepted.  Anytime someone is willing to cook for me, I am most gracious in my acceptance.  I arrived about 6 o’clock and we had a great dinner and fellowship.  The dinner was especially appreciated after I saw how hard it was for her to get around and to know that she went to all that trouble for me really humbled me. 

Earlier in the post, I said she is a very interesting lady.  She has a great story to tell. After listening to her last night, I told her she should get these thoughts either down on paper or on a tape recorder so her family would be able to know her history. Hopefully, she will do that.

She was born in Wales; her father worked on the docks and her mother worked at home. I can’t remember how many sisters and brothers she had; but at the time the story she told took place, she and her brother were the only children at home. Her father was too old and her brother too young to fight in the war – World War II. Her family lived a little town.  She got such a wistful look when she talked about her homeland.  She said she missed it a lot and that nights when it’s raining she will often lie in her bed and smell the earth of her home.  She told me several stories of things that happened during the war; some of them funny but most of them sad. She lived through some terrible times; yet, she remembers how she and others in her town would walk through the streets singing.  She said she guessed people thought they were crazy.  But, I could see this as a defense mechanism; anything to help you get through the horrible time.  She told me about people at the prison camps; people’s homes being bombed and burned; people being killed.  Things I can only see in movies or read about in books. She talked about the sound the bombs made as they were falling and how the movie producers can get the “whistle” sound as they fall right. But, they don’t have the sound of the explosion when they strike anywhere near right.  You can’t imagine the sound or the force of the impact. Her brother once had his jacket blown right off his body and he found it several days later down the street on a bean pole in a neighbor’s garden.  They were given 2 ounces of margarine a week per person. She told lots of stories like this.

She also told stories of happy things.  She was very close to her Daddy; she was the baby of the family.  He would pick her up, perch her on his shoulders and carry off to the fields to pick mushrooms and other things.  He would pick this flower that had some kind of burr on it and make a wreath of these and place it on her head like a crown.  She really loved it…..until she got home and had to get it out of her hair.  As she told this story, she had the sweetest look on her face.

I wish I could remember all she told me; but I can’t and I couldn’t do justice to the stories.  But, she did tell me one more that I want to share with you.  It brought chills to me when she told me and it just about broke my heart for her.  She remembers hearing her Daddy talk with the other men in the town about having to defend themselves against the Germans if they came there.  There were no young men in the town; they were all off at war.  The men only had pitchforks to defend themselves.  She heard her Daddy tell the other men that if the Germans did come, he would kill his daughter himself before he would let the Germans have her.  She stopped in her story to say “you have to remember that I was blond and blue-eyed, just what the soldiers wanted”. She continued her story by saying, she knew her Daddy was talking about her and she was thinking about he would kill her and she hoped he wouldn’t choke her.  I was sitting there horrified.  How could she sit there and tell me this so calmly? Of course, I knew she must have been terrified.  But, she also knew that if he had to do it, it would be because he loved her and wanted to spare her the horrible things they knew the Germans would do.  Can you imagine how she must have felt?  I honestly can’t.

We ended our evening at 10:15.  It is one of the best evenings I can ever remember having; spent with a great lady with awesome stories to tell.

I had planned to write my next post about my parents; but this one seems more timely. I will write about them soon.

It's early Sat. morning, December 19, and after listening to the wind howl all night, I decided to give up the losing battle of getting any sleep and get up. Naturally, I went to the computer as I usually do first thing in the morning. I saw that TJ had made a new post on his blog; the first in a long time. As I started to read it, the tears began to flow. Tommy, TJ's dad, and I had a very eventful, sometime explosive marrige. We were both very strong personalitiies and often those personalities collided. I loved Tommy, but I couldn't live with him. I hate to admit that we did not remain friends after we separated and our two sons suffered as a consequence. But thankfully in August 2008, Tommy and I settled our differences and when he passed away in March 2009, I am glad to say we were friends.

TJ, your recent post is a beautiful tribute to your Dad. You are right about him; he was a craftsman in his work. He may have had some faults but that wasn't one of them. A lot of homes in Dare County, his home for many years, proudly display his craftsmanship. He was an awesome cabinet maker. He didn't have the fancy tools or education to draw circles, angles, etc. But, he had the privilege of working with another craftsman, his father Lucky Jordan. Your granddad had one of the best names in the construction business. I have seen Tommy take a pizza pan, his tool of choice, to make circles, openings in doors of cabinets, etc.. He also used glasses, cups; anything that happened to be lying around and had the arc or angle he needed. A prospective customer could show him a picture of what he wanted and where he wanted it to go in the house and that's all it took. Soon, that particular item was complete. After both you and Ray were born, I was able to work at home for the first year and I spent many happy hours working in the shop with him. In fact, looking back, those were probably our happiest times together. Because...we were together. He taught me a lot in those days we spent in the shop. I learned to use most of the tools but never acquired any confidence with the router. It just turned too fast. But the band saw was my favorite toy. Note, I didn't say tool, because to me, it was a toy. Papa Jordan taught me to change the blade after changing it about ten times for me. I learned, the hard way, to not cut the angles too sharply and not get the blade in a bind because the cost of those blades came out of my pocket. I would walk into Beach Hardware, next to the shop, and Buster would have a band saw blade waiting on the counter for me. He told me he increased his inventory of this item so he would always have one for me.

Your post reminded me of some of the good times Tommy and I had. It reminded me that our marriage wasn't all bad. After all, you and Ray are a result of that union and I will never be sorry for the gift of you guys. Tommy and I had our differences, but he was a craftsman in his woodworking. I am so glad his talent has been preserved in you and I am glad you are using that talent. When I look at yours and Ray's hands, I am very much reminded of your Dad's. I always thought he had beautiful hands. They could be hard when necessary, but they could be so tender.

My Most Special Christmas Gift

This is probably my most favorite Christmas present. I have been a single parent since my sons were 6 and 2 years old. One Christmas we were shopping in Roses; TJ and Ray were probably about 7 and 3 at the time. I always had to pay for my Christmas present and up until this year, I had not wanted to let them go about the store by themselves. But, this year, they wanted to pick out my present without me seeing it. So, I have them a couple of hints and one of the things I particularly wanted was a NC State sleepshirt. I directed them to proper aisle and then I went to the next aisle over, where I could hear their voices enough to know they were okay but couldn't understand exactly what they were saying. They were doing a lot of giggling and whispering. Finally, after deciding on "something" they asked if they could go over to the toys and they still didn't want me to look. So, we headed to the toy section, again with them only one aisle away from me. Finally, they told me they were finished shopping. Now came the problem of us getting to the check-out counter without me seeing what they had picked out. Remember, I still had to pay for the present. So TJ came up with the idea that they would lead me to the check-out counter, my eyes closed holding onto the shopping cart and he and Ray pulling it along. When we got to the counter I had to turn my back to the register and I heard TJ whispering to the clerk, "Please wrap this in 2 or 3 bags. It's Mom's present and she has to pay for it but we don't want her to see it. It's a most special gift." Thankfully, they had a clerk who definitely had some Christmas spirit and wanted to help those 2 little boys give their Mom a "most special gift". So, she put it in 3 bags and even stapled the bag closed so I couldn't peek. I paid for their purchase and she gave the receipt to them so I couldn't see the description of the item. When we got home, they carried the bag into their room; asked me for wrapping paper, tape, etc. and asked me to give them a little privacy so they could wrap the gift.
In our family we have a tradition of opening one gift on Christmas Eve and saving the rest for Christmas morning. Well, on Christmas Eve they wouldn't let me open the special gift. I had to open some things they had made at school. Finally, Christmas morning arrived and after they had found what Santa had left for them, we opened the rest of our gifts. When they gave me my gift, I was pretty sure they had not bought a NC State sleepshirt. The package was BIG, and pretty carefully wrapped. As I opened it, the first thing I saw was something red (which turned out to be the dog's cap) and realized the gift was extremely soft. When I removed the last of the paper, I was crying. Both of my boys know I love stuffed animals and this dog was wearing a very special outfit - a NC State sleepshirt. I was just so overwhelmed with the love they had shown for me in getting me this "most special gift".
I have had many truly wonderful Christmas's with my boys. I had to learn to share them early on, since their Dad and I were divorced. The first Christmas Eve they stayed with their Dad, I thought my heart was going to break. But you know, you get over those things and learn to enjoy the times they are with you. This will be our second year in a row without Ray being with us. He lives in Alaska and is just isn't possible for him to be here. But, hopefully, we will connect with him using the webcam and be able to wish him a Merry Christmas via internet. We will have 2 new people here with us this year, Amy and her son Josh and of course my granddaughter, Hannah. I also have a grandson, Matt, in Mississippi and he won't be able to be with us either.
I hope all of you have a very Merry Christmas and a blessed and happy New Year.

The Christmas Season is officially here for me. This morning I heard my favorite non-Christian Christmas song, "Christmas in Dixie" by Alabama. It really brings back some memories.
Several years ago, my youngest son Ray, was in Mississippi and was planning on coming home for Christmas. He had been gone almost 3 years so I was really pleased. I just asked him to be careful and keep me posted. On Dec. 24, I got a call from him telling me he was in Georgia but his truck had broken down and he didn't have a clue what was wrong with it. How was he going to get the rest of the way home? I started making phone calls, seeing about getting him on a bus, etc. I would have settled for a dog sled at the time. Another call from Ray let me know he had gotten to Columbia, SC by riding with a truck driver. In the mean time I was trying to get a bus schedule worked out. At that time, I had a niece living in Greensboro; she was able to get a seat on a bus from Columbia, SC to Elizabeth City, NC. The only down side of this was that the bus would not get into Elizabeth City until midnight Christmas night. I was so disappointed and just really didn't know what to do. About 7:30 PM I got a call from a close friend and he could tell from my voice something was wrong and when I started to tell him, I broke down and started crying. He asked if I could just go and get Ray. I explained that I could but the banks were closed and I had no way of getting any cash. This was before I had an ATM card. He told me to get ready and he would be there soon with the cash for me. The other problem here is that I couldn't go by myself. I called Rick, who only lived about a mile down the road from me, explained the situation to him and his wife. She packed some sandwiches for us, and he was at my house in about 15 minutes. Rick was having some medical problems with his diabetes and therefore couldn't drive but he was great company and was a top notch mechanic in case something went wrong. We left Manns Harbor about 8:00 PM, drove to the bus station in Columbia, SC, and picked Ray up. I was so glad to see him. We stopped at a Waffle House for breakfast, turned around and headed back home. Ray didn't have a driver's license so he wasn't able to help with the driving. (Don't ask why he was driving from Mississippi in the first place!) After swerving over the center line and Rick hitting me on the shoulder, I turned the car over to Ray for a short nap. We only stopped for gas, bathroom breaks and fast food. After about an hour nap, I drove the rest of the way home. We got home about 11:45 Christmas morning, just in time for Rick to have dinner with his family. I took another short nap and we headed to my sister Faye's house for Christmas with my family.
I guess you are wondering why I started this story off by mentioning "Christmas in Dixie"? This is why - as we drove down to SC and back home, as we would lose a radio station and find another, "Christmas in Dixie" was playing every time we switched from station to station. EVERY TIME! It just became our theme song. Now, whenever I hear it, I am reminded of that Christmas when good friends and Alabama helped me. (I KNOW YOU WILL THINK I AM LYING, BUT THIS SONG IS PLAYING ON THE RADIO RIGHT THIS MINUTE.)
Now for the end of the story. I had to get Ray back to his truck in Georgia. We left (by we, I mean Rick, Ray and myself) about 11:30 PM on 12/30; drove all the way to Georgia; had some really awesome pork barbecue in some little restaurant that looked like a tobacco barn and carried Ray to his truck. Rick discovered the problem (I did mention he was a top notch mechanic didn't I), fixed the truck and we watched Ray drive away. And we headed back home. This was 12/31/99; the year everyone thought all the computers were going to "die" at midnight. We stopped for gas at a few stations that had signs stating they were closing at 11:30 PM in case of computer failure. But, of course, there was no problem and we got back to Manns Harbor in time for Rick to kiss his wife just before midnight. I slept all day the next day. It was a Christmas I will always remember.