Miss MV

I have always had a special place in my heart for Miss Mary Virginia Smith. I also had special affection for Sam, her husband and a life long friend of my mother's. Mother and Mary Virginia were friends most of their lives. Our family's lives wove in and out of each other's. We all lived in the small delta town of Forrest City when I was but a babe. Miss MV tells me that she and Sam would come and fetch me to spend time with them. I was one of three girls, Lindsey 2 years older and Paula 18 months younger. Sam and MV were yet to have Leslie and David. I am sure I loved the extra attention paid. Time moved on as well as both families. I don't remember the particulars but we all lived in Little Rock for awhile at the same time. MV and Sam had started their own family by that time and ours had expanded to include two boys. Once we moved to Mississippi we saw the Smith's when visiting our respected grandparents in Forrest City.



My junior year in high school my parents moved us to Paragould, AR from Clarksdale, MS. For you blog followers you will remember we were struggling with the effects of the civil rights movement. I believe Sam and Mary Virginia and Miss Nancy had some influence on our choice because they had all made their homes in Paragould. We maintained our home and our dad his business in Mississippi for some time. Their were occasions when the family would return to Mississippi and I would choose to stay in Arkansas. MV and Sam were kind enough to let me stay with them. I am not sure how David and Leslie felt having a displaced teenager invade their home, but I loved it. MV would allow us to make all kinds of creative messes that my mother being the mother of five just couldn't allow. She had the patience of Job and never became agitated or lost her temper. MV was always and will always be the picture of a southern lady. Kind and thoughtful. Full of happy and positive thoughts. Quiet and thoughtful. I always had aspirations of some day being like her. I think I am more like my mother but hope I have some of MV's attributes.



It has been and is a privilege to have MV in my life. It is such a comfort to be around someone who has known you forever and finds no place for judgement in her heart. I know MV loved mother and me. I know mother loved MV. I hope MV knows what her life has meant to me. She will remain one of my fondest memories and best surprises when I am able to see her.

Miss Emmy Witt

Today is a sad day for Miss Emmy Witt. She is morning the loss of her sister "Sissy". Emmy has taken care of her sister for the past few years. Before that Emmy took care of her mother and another sister. Emmy has been a caregiver her whole life. Emmy taught P.E. in the Paragould Public Schools until she retired. Having no children of her own she made the girls of her P. E. class her children. She was involved in the choir at the First United Methodist Church for as long as some can remember.

I know Miss Emmy well. Others know her better. My family moved to Paragould my Junior Year of high school. We moved here from Clarksdale, Mississippi. My dad had a business in Clarksdale and for several years he and we commuted. We moved because in 1971 the Clarksdale public schools were in turmoil and not many could afford private school for four while paying for a new freshman in college. I was devastated when my parents broke the news to me on my return from cheerleader camp at Ole Miss. It was a difficult decision for them and I am quite sure I made it more difficult for them. I left behind my friends, boyfriend and my way of life.

Miss Nancy Mahan and her children were already living here as well as Sam and Mary Virginia Smith and their children which in some ways made the transition more bearable. Blog followers will remember these two women and Sam, I might add had been friends of Sassy's since childhood. I would grow closer to these two families as we now not only would share an early childhood but a young adult life.

In spite of the fact that I had siblings and mother and her friends I was stubborn in my anger and sadness. Emmy is the one who saved me from drowning in my sorrows. She eased me into life in Paragould by involving me in activities that the active kids were involved in. I had fulfilled my credits in P E but for some reason Emmy liked me and wanted to help. She checked me out of other classes to drive her red convertible to the Dairy Queen for her lunch. Of course the happening kids wanted to go to. She made me a part of homecoming assemblies in any way she could. She pushed me into activities that a new girl was not usually involved in. I met people and began to like living in Paragould. I found myself wanting to stay here to participate with my new found friends. Months before would find me back in Clarksdale trying to maintain those relationships.

I will not question why she chose to help an angry teenager from Mississippi but I will always be grateful. I love Emmy Witt and I am sad for her today. How lucky we all were to have Emmy love us "Sissy" , me and all the others.

Fizzies and Poppers

When we were growing up the neighborhood grocery store was common. They were in every neighborhood within walking distance of homes surrounding them. We all had charge accounts as this was in the day before credit cards and debit cards. It was convenient for mothers to send the older children to pick up daily used items; bread, milk, etc. Most had butchers and a family could buy meat as well. It was in the day long ago when children "ran" the neighborhoods and folks looked out for one another. Mothers thought nothing of seeing their children at breakfast, lunch and dinner only during summer vacation. The windows were open and the children usually just a holler away.

Two particular incidences come to mind.

One hot summer day, my sister and I, I am sure barefooted and dirty, walked to our neighborhood store. Sitting on the counter tempting us with much gravity was a box of poppers. Poppers were a type of firecracker that you threw on the ground to make a popping noise. I think the grocer probably intended to sell them individually. We charged the whole box to mother's house account. We happily left that store and planted ourselves on a curb and began to pop those poppers. Mother discovered us involved in this activity and was curious as to where the poppers had come from. When we told her we had charged them to her she made us "march" right back to that store and return the remaining poppers. I believe there was some counting and accounting to be done. I wonder how much mother's bill for poppers was that month.

In our day the car dealerships were positioned downtown as to be in the center of everything. My sister took me by the hand one day and we wandered downtown to the local dealership. She informed the owner that we were interested in purchasing a vehicle. While he entertained her in conversation an employee was busy calling our mother to come and fetch us. All involved found much humor in this little activity.

It makes me so sad that convenience stores and crime are now a part of the fabric of our lives. We sometimes don't know our neighbors much less the neighborhood in which we live. We would never consider letting our children or grandchildren "run" the streets. The children now have play dates and many scheduled activities. I am so glad that I grew up running the streets and knowing my neighborhood and community. That freedom allowed so much for free time and creativity. It made us friendlier and kinder. Even though there are many modern conveniences, I have grown accustomed to and could not live without, I miss those days when we were less harried and more relaxed with one another.

Antidote: Fizzies were a powdered item that when added to water made the water flavorful and fizzie. I am sure we charged some of those to mother's house account as well. Some brave children would put the fizzie directly in the mouth and always said that it was the best sensation. I am sure the drink was full of sugar, red dye #10 and chemicals but it was a true pleasure of my childhood.

Palette Party

In this photo: Rebecca, Little Guy, Lindsey Rowe, Paula and Caroline. This was the whole group in 1956. Yet to join us were Jimmy, Kay, Keith and Mike. Many times when we were at Mawmaw's together we would sleep and take our naps on palettes. In this age where children in the U.S. are likely to each have their own room with en suite bath, few will know what a palette is. My definition is a layer of blankets or quilts on the floor in the living room, dining room (under the table was always best), on the screened porch,etc. where a child or a group of children would lay for a nap or a night's sleep. We loved the palettes. There was something cozy and other wordly about getting the chance to sleep on the floor and especially under the table. Trying to sleep with a group of children who were a variety of ages can be a challenge. I can remember we all learned quickly not to put our feet on Paula as she was likely to bite. She just hated for anyone to touch her with their feet. Mawmaw made a game out of nap time or night sleep. Imagine being able to con five children into thinking they were on a great palette adventure. I think Paula is toting a gun in a holster in this photo. You don't see children playing with guns anymore but this was a more innocent time when guns meant cowboys and Indians. Playing cowboys and Indians is most likely not even politically correct now. We had such a charmed childhood, surrounded by the women who loved us. Claudia, Lille, Sally.

Lindsey, Paula and I are sporting hair dos that were known as a Pixie. We had these hair dos because mother did not want to put our hair in pig tails and pony tails anymore. I imagine that mornings were less chaotic without all that hair to brush and put up. Hair washing day must have been made easier as well. No more crying and fussing about tangled hair caught in a brush or comb.

Can you imagine what those Pixies looked like after a nap or a night's sleep on a palette? A bushy mess.

Lindsey is holding Caroline. Lindsey was a good big sister, cousin. In many childhood photos she can be seen holding the younger ones. She was our leader. We all looked up to her. Whatever she ate, we wanted to eat. Whatever she did, we wanted to do. Whatever palette she was on, we wanted to be on too.

Tea Party

In September we had a tea party. One of Mother's oldest friends was being buried that day. I was to go to the funeral and then three of her friends were coming back with me to have a tea party. At Mother's direction I got out the linen napkins, china and sliver. We carefully placed a bakery cake on her antique cake stand. She insisted every item be laid out perfectly. I left her with my sister-in-law to attend the funeral.



The funeral was difficult for me as I could not remember when I had not known Miss Nancy. I had grown up with her children. It was comforting to sit with the friends that had known mother and Miss Nancy.



I returned to find mother dressed and ready for company. She looked beautiful. Blond wig, bright caftan and even a touch of lipstick. She was so sad about Miss Nancy but so excited that her friends were coming. The tea party was a success. Mother was so alive that day.



We buried mother in October. I don't think those ladies have any idea what that day, that tea party meant to mother, to me and to my sisters. The strength those ladies had to have to bury one friend and then have a tea party with another. I am amazed and inspired by them all.

A month later those same wonderful ladies returned to be with us when we buried mother. There presence once again a great comfort to us all. I hope when I begin to bury my friends I have the same courage.

Lunch with the Girls

My sister, Lindsey. and I had lunch with Sally's friends yesterday. We drove eighty miles down flat delta roads to a small community in Arkansas . Colt is square in the middle of rich Arkansas delta farm land. Sally made this trip once a month as often as she could for as many years as she had lived close enough to do so. We were apprehensive as we had not seen our mother's friends since her funeral. We would not win the prize for longest distance for lunch. There are three girls who drive Interstate 40 from Little Rock once a month to have lunch with friends they have known all their lives. Most of these girls graduated from high school together in 1947 or 1948 from Forrest City High School. Some went on to college together. Some stayed and started families.


Ofcourse our apprehension proved to be just that. We were welcomed with love and warmth. There are two of these wonderful ladies that mother would say she could not remember when she did not know them. Lindsey and I have known Verna and Mary Virginia our whole lives. We have known husbands, children and some of their grandchildren. Our lives would weave in and out of the others over the years. We lived in the same small town for a couple of years but our grandparents never left. When we would come back for visits they were always a part of our activities. It is a comfort to know these wonderful women . They keep Mother alive for us by their presence and stories. Mother was always so comfortable when she was with them. As many of them moved away and moved on we remained connected through telephone and visits when we all met in that small delta town. Many more stories to come about these great women.

Lee Mahan Beasley was also at the luncheon. Her mother, Nancy Mahan was also a part of this group of ladies. We knew Miss Nancy and her children our whole lives also. Miss Nancy passed away in September. We are all so sad and miss her. Lee and I lived in Marianna for awhile together as children. Later, when we moved from Mississippi to Paragould, AR she and her brothers were living in Paragould with Miss Nancy. There have been years when we have lived apart. Yet we share so many memories. We share our love of the lunch girls.

Antidote: When the Mahan children and the Rowe children got together there were nine of us. Mother and Miss Nancy had gotten in the habit of sending us out to play and locking us out of the house. I am sure we drove them crazy asking for drinks and snacks. This might be considered child abuse now but I think they thought the older children would watch out for the little ones. One day we were playing "crack the whip" I am not sure if this is a game anyone else played as a child. Maybe we just made it up out of boredom. In this game a line is formed by the players holding hands. The line leader then snakes the line back and forth and round and round trying to knock the last one on line off. For this particular game I was the end of the whip. As I was knocked off I flew threw the air and fell right into a coke bottle. Hand bleeding, screaming, complete chaos. We could not get Nancy and Sally to open the door. Finally, the older children held my hand up until the mother's noticed that my hand was bleeding. Mother rushed me to an old doctor in downtown Mariana. He put my hand over boiling water(I am assuming to sterilize the wound) and then sewed the skin back onto my hand. All I received for that trauma was a lolly pop and a lifelong scar.

Hissy Fit

I am feeling antsy today. So antsy I almost had a hissy fit this morning. I am intelligent enough to know that I am tired and overwhelmed. Usually I could call mother and she had the words to calm me down. Once she told me to go clean every toilet in my house and be greatful to have them to clean. She thought this act gave one time to think and accomplished something useful at the same time. I know there was wisdom in that but sometimes I just don't want to clean a toilet. I want to scream, holler and cry. Not very ladylike and unacceptable to most. Most of the women of mother's generation did not allow their husband's to do one thing. Every household task was women's work.

Even the women who worked outside the home were left to do the mundane household tasks at night or on the weekends. My mother-in-law, Kathryn, was like that. She was a house-a-fire, constantly moving; cooking, washing, cleaning and then working sometimes a ten hour day. She was intelligent, amazing and I had great respect for her. I have watched her mow the lawn, paint the exterior and interior of her house, catch and clean fish. She had a green thumb (I think Katy inherited that). She had the most beautiful flower garden. She could plant a bare stick and it would become the most beautiful plant. She was kind to everyone and I never remember her having one hissy fit. She also was a fine seamstress. She designed many a garment for me that I still admire and wear. I am worn out just typing the list of accomplishments that were hers. She wrote elegantly. I loved receiving bread and butter notes from her. She always had uplifting words of love.

Kathryn never forgot a birthday or and anniversary. The men she worked for at her work place and home were so lucky to have her. I wish I could be more like her. I am a woman of the strange generation. To be accomplished had not so much to do with home and family. Success was to be found outside the home. I am still working on that. Kathryn had that covered too. She was most efficient at her job and every person she worked with had great respect for her. Had she been of my generation or a man of her generation there is no telling what she would have accomplished and all without a hissy fit.

I am feeling calm now. I did not clean a toilet but the feeling is the same. Had my mother or Kathryn been living during the computer age I think they would have written their feelings on a blog and we would have all been better off for having read their wise words.

I miss these two wonderful women who loved me so much.

Antidote: Spell check keeps trying to correct hissy fit. If there is someone out there who doesn't know what a hissy fit is please ask.

Big Day in the Rowe Family

Some years ago this became a big day in the Rowe family. James Hare Rowe Junior finally broke the spell of an all girl family. He was a chubby, happy baby and the delight of us all. He was all boy and when old enough took to running the streets of our southern town with his dog Skipper. He played youth baseball and was the only one on the team that would not wear shorts. Mother used to say she always knew when the boys would be home because Skipper wanted out to meet them. I know this is a difficult day for Jimmy. Mother always made a big deal out of each child's birthday. So Happy Birthday to Jimmy on our big day.

This is a photo of James Hare Rowe, Jr. in the lap of his grandfather James Edward Rowe.


Antidote: Mother always swore by a bar of dial soap to take grass stains out of athletic trousers. We tried it on Katy's soccer pants and it didn't work. Mother said like everything else the ingredient that had worked had been removed from the product.

Hey "Sug"

Mornings are the most difficult. I talked to Sally every morning. Sometimes we just caught up with the other siblings that had called with news. Sometimes it was to discuss the day ahead or the week or weekend to come. She always greeted me with Hey "Sug". I have a feeling she greeted all of us with Hey "Sug". "Sug" being a diminutive of Sugar. I am so glad she did not call me that while I was growing up. I don't feel like" sug"would have fit me well. She may have been the only one who thought I was as sweet as sugar. She overlooked so much. My name was always Rebecca to her. The first few years of school she marched me in by the hand on the first day and explained to each teacher that my name was Rebecca not Becky and that I was never to be called by a nickname. Later in Junior high, I had many nicknames but the one most used was Becca. I even had that put on my cheerleader uniform. She did not like that at all. I explained that the "Re" would not fit on the megaphone of the uniform and for some reason she accepted that. I am so glad she was stern in this regard as I am definitely a Rebecca. Photo is of the megaphone Mother had saved.

As you can imagine my two younger brothers had difficulty pronouncing such a name and so to them I became something that sounded like tobacco. It is a miracle that that didn't stick. I don't know why she easily called the brothers, Mike and Jimmy. All of her female chicks were called by full names; Lindsey, Paula and Rebecca. Whatever she called us we felt privileged. There were times she would say to us only things a mother can get by with and we accepted it easily.

She loved her grandmother name, Sassy. It suited her. She became known as Sassy to all of her children, grandchildren, their friends, all that knew her and loved her. Sarah Clyde Proctor Rowe, our Sassy.

Sassy

My cousin Caroline has suggested a series of writings on "what would Sally say". Excellent suggestion. As anybody who knew Sally well would know she had a lot to say about every situation. At the moment sometimes I had no idea what her comment could possibly mean. A day would always come when her Sallyism made complete sense. I will have to consult Lindsey as she has become our family memory. Mother was that for so long. Thank goodness we have Lindsey.

Antidote: When Katy was young she and Sassy were having a conversation regarding higher education and its benefits. Mother informed Katy that one of the most valuable lessons learned at college (Mississippi State College for Women) was how to vacum. Katy was ofcourse fasinated by this notion. How ,Katy asked, should one vacum. Sassy demonstrated as she described "seven times one way and then seven times the other way. It is the only way to be through". Still makes me giggle.

Mother's Drawer

My father has been requesting to have my mother's bathroom drawers emptied. I have been avoiding this activity as it seemed as if this might be the final act I would be performing with her. She gave her jewelry to her daughter's and daughter's in law month's before. Her pearls to one new grandchild that most likely will not remember her except through story and photo. It was most difficult to pilfer through her things again. We never allowed ourselves to pilfer while growing up. We learned respect for privacy from her. My two sisters helped clean her closet out. Safety in numbers. We had no arguments ,this one wanted that and the other wanted something else. These drawers were the potions, lotions and perfumes that she used everyday. These items tell the most personal story. What she liked to smell, touch and feel. How age had affected her choices or not. She had not worn mascara for years for it irritated her eyes so none was found. Her eyes were an incredible blue color so the loss had little affect on how beautiful and intense her eyes were. There was other make up some worn little, some worn out with use. The colors in her eye palette were neutral. Lipsticks in bright, happy colors. The lipstick choices giving away her personality, vivid and bold. Old grooming tools, out of date curling irons, manicure kits given to her some birthday or Christmas long ago. Bottles of unused perfume. No empty bottles of Chanel #5 as it was her favorite and she enjoyed using that. Extra tooth brushes always kept for some unexpected guest's dental hygiene. A green bag with a brush full of her beautiful white hair tucked in the back of the drawer as if hidden in shame. She hated losing her hair the most as it was that incredible shade of pure white so few have. The cleansers, bandages and tape that had taken her dignity from her. Empty bottles of pain killers, a reminder of her last days. I miss her so much today.