Saturday, January 26, 2008

One of My Kirkland School Teachers

By Fred McCaleb

On Wednesday September 16, 1998 I visited the corpse of one of my former
school teachers , Mr. John Hall Holliman , I had at Kirkland Jr. High School
in 1932. He was at Norwood Chapel Funeral Home in Fayette, Al. He had died in
Jefferson County, Al. at the age of 93. He had been around the most of this
century. I hadn’t seen him since attending Kirkland. He was an energetic
young man of about 26 or 27 years of age when I knew him and he was helping
to shape my life. I wanted to see him one more time and pay my last respects. I
thought he was an old timer at 26 while I was about 15. He managed to get my
respect long ago. Very few friends survived Mr. Holliman since he had outlived
nearly all of them. His wife was gone. His 95 year old sister was at the
funeral along with her caretaker. He had a daughter that lived in Colorado that
was present. She had already retired. It was a little lonely. A few like me that
used to know him were there.
We had moved from Miss. back to Alabama and I had the privilege of riding my
first school bus to school instead of walking. Ala. was ahead on transportation
but not on school. We rode a T-Model Ford bus to school . It had a long wooden
seat down each side of the privately owned and converted truck. It went very
slow up the hills and Murry Barns would sometimes get out the back, run along
behind, and make out like he was pushing. The sides and back had curtains that
were open in good weather but closed in bad. No modern windows. Murry was a
basket ball player and a comedian and got our attention. He would remark that
he was as active as a cow.
The thirties were the time electricity had not come to the farms in Alabama. I
was acquainted with a flashlight and its batteries and the ‘ring em’ up country
telephone hand cranked generator. Electricity fascinated me. I shocked my
little sister Clara Jean McCaleb with the phone generator. It’s a wonder I
didn’t kill her. The phone generator put out 90 volts AC I learned later. We
unhooked our telephone line when storms came up and threw it on the ground to
keep lightning from coming in on the house. If we didn’t hook back the line
was grounded and others on the party line had a hard time getting anyone else
to answer. Therefore no spread of community news. We had kerosene lamps to
give light for studying by. On arriving from school I helped with farm chores
such as slopping the hogs, feeding the mules and chickens, chopping stovewood
and firewood and drawing well water. We had running water. The farm boy or girl
ran to the well with a bucket or the spring if they had no well and ran back
with a bucket of water for the kitchen dishes, drinking, washing dirty feet
etc. Our toys were all home made by a boy like me that thought he needed
something to play with. I made truck wagons for us to ride down steep hills and
dodge trees around here. We shared them with the Dodson boys which were younger
and sometimes they would hit a tree with them. It’s a wonder they didn’t
kill themselves.
One of my home jobs was to help my dad clear ten or 15 acres of land near the
channel on Saturdays by pulling one end of a cross cut saw to cut down trees
and wielding a chopping axe to trim up the brush and pile into brush piles We
did 3 or 4 acres per winter and had log rollings in the spring. The neighboring
men and women came to the log rolling. Men to help pile the logs for burning and
the women for helping prepare the big dinner feast for the rolling. Everybody
got to talk and work. It took strong bodied men. I could shoulder a 200 lb sack
of nitrate of soda and walk across the field with it at that time. Some men
could pick up a 500 lb bale of cotton. Not much concern was given to being
safe. I was going bare footed and plowing a mule and wearing short hair in the
summer and wearing long hair and a pair of brogan shoes for the winter. We
warmed by a wooded fireplace. One side of you would burn while other froze.
Stiff warning from my dad was not to burn up your shoes or you might have to
finish the winter barefooted. Our standard week day clothing wear was a blue
chambray (or something) shirt and blue denim overalls We had brown or black long
stockings to wear with shoes in winter.It was an era of make do on your own or
die. Not much choice- “do or die.” This was an era of ignorance and
adventure for me. I picked up in John Hall Hollimans health class that we were
to keep our room well ventilated. My brother Hubert and I kept our little back
room ventilated winter and summer. We slept together on a home made cotton
mattress in the summer and a feather mattress in the winter. Plenty of home
made quilts and the feather mattress kept us warm in the winter and summer heat
kept us warm in summer. I learned in the health class things that stood by the
ignorant farm boy for the rest of my life. Things like not drinking alcohol,
catching veneral diseases by messing with opposite sex, getting rest at night
etc. One just about automatically got his rest at night. The world was not lit
up at night back then. At least the country wasn’t. The small oil light
became tiresome by about 8 pm. And one hit the bed. My dad required the ones
going to school to get up about 4|30 each morning in winter to start a fire in
the fireplace and in the kitchen stove. It was below his dignity to get up and
do that when he had a couple of big boys. My mother helped us in our school
work until we got above the 7th grade. That was as far as her schooling
knowledge went. My dads school knowledge didn’t go near that far, but he knew
lots about using reverse psychology on his children though he had never heard of
psychology. We grew up as a family in poverty and never knew the difference.
Everyone was in the same boat. Such fellows as Rockefeller, Mellon, Carnegie,
and Vanderbilt had the money. My mother said Rockefeller’s money is tainted,
it taint for you or it taint for me.
The John Hall Holliman days are gone. His early days were before sulfa drugs,
penicillin, the radio for everyone, motorized transportation for all, before
television, before computers, before any income to amount to anything, before
degrading of women’s rights, before pay above $21 per month for armed services
and pay to bring spouse along. It was before most everything we think we have
to have today. There were no refrigerators, but a block of ice could be bought
to make ice cream for the 4th of July. We had ice cream if it snowed in the
winter and most of the time on the 4th of July. We kept from starving by eating
our home grown products. .
One thing John Holliman asked in a science class was “If something that cant
be stopped hits something that can’t be moved then what happens.? I could not
answer that question then. During my life I decided there might be an atomic
explosion. A similar thing to that happened in Siberia when an object from
space came in at 240 thousand MPH. It leveled the forest for several miles
around. Another question asked was “If a tree falls in the woods and there is
no one around to hear it Did it make a noise. “ I couldn’t answer that one.
I think the scientists decided the tree made waves and the waves struck the ear
and made sensation of sound.. Maybe Mr. Holliman succeeded in arousing some
curiosity in me. I didn’t know much back then and still don’t claim to know
very much after being exposed to advances of most of this century. My brother
Hubert and I got interested in parachuting. We jumped off the barn with
momma’s umbrella. It turned wrong side out and ruined. We got punishment for
that. We survived the 10 feet jump.
At the funeral home visit of John Hall Holliman I met one of his nephews named
Theron Holliman that was in my class at Kirkland. I hadn’t seen him since the
30’s either. He informed me of the Kirkland bully named James South. Said
James South started bullying me. I got a brick bat and supposedly used it on
James. I am glad I didn’t hit him in the head and kill him. He said James
said I would kill a fellow and James cut out his bullying. I didn’t
recollect being that mean back then. I wasn’t in the habit of bothering
anyone and didn’t expect to be bothered. Sometime along about that time I
became a member of the Church of Christ at Mt. Olive . Maybe I was trying to
atone for the sins I had committed as a youngster. Who knows? Anyhow the
Kirkland and Mt. Olive days are gone and most of this century is gone and the
John Hall Holliman and Fred McCaleb era is a thing of the past. Maybe 1929
stock market failure will not repeat itself. There was another boy I recollect
being at Kirkland named Theron Black. He was smart and decent. He Joined the
Navy and was on one of the ships that the Japanese sunk at Pearl Harbor. The
ship is a memorial there. His name is on a monument in front of the Fayette
Court
House. He enjoyed very little of this century. Maybe that will not happen
to someone’s future schoolmate.
Written by Fred McCaleb during 1998.



Morningside Assisted Living Home


by

Fred McCaleb


I will try to report a little about what I have learned about people living
here.

One man at the end of this end was put in here after he slept day and night
after drinking some alcohol. Put in for safety. His 3 sisters are faithful to
come and see him every day and bring him cheer. He eats with me but doesn’t
say much. He is about 68 years old.

A real slim old lady rooms across the hall from him. She never bothers anyone. I
say Hi to her and ask her how she is doing. She always says she is doing just
fine. She didn’t seem to eat as much as she should at first but seems to eat
ok now.

The next lady in the room next to the man that eats with me is nervous and sickly.
She eats a quart of ice about every 40 minutes or an hour. First I ever saw
anyone do that. I told her she would freeze herself to death. She didn’t pay
much attention. She is getting more complaining of health problems every day.
She asks for special things to eat. She got a cart to roll to walk and rolls it
real fast.

On the next room the other side of the hall is a man and woman from the other
side of the isle living together. He is an electrician from around here and
from Fla. And from WWII navy that did jobs free if they didn’t have money He
has 2 wives still living, went broke in business and is 88 years old. Live in
is the daughter of a Methodist preacher. She is having to lift him up from
table now. She can’t hear very much except with hearing aid. He claims he has
always been religious. Told some of us at AARP that he was same as Christ. Live
in walks by herself now. She seems to be true to him.

The next room up is the one legged lady that travels fast in a wheel chair and
lived next to my wife. She is a good lady as far as I can tell. She plays rook
with us sometimes and has her right mind. Her son and daughter in law come to
see her pretty often. Her son planted the pretty flowers next to her and my
wife’s room.

The next room on my side contains the one elected Queen last year. She is hard
of hearing and I have a hard time talking to her. She is sort of like my wife
on eating cereal part of the time. Her sister and brother in law come to
see her every few days. They don’t have any trouble talking.

Mr. and Mrs. that used to run Anderson Hardware living in my wife Bettie’s old
room. They are both OK mentally but older than me by two years. I enjoy talking
to them .They both went to college and met teaching school in Miss. Mr. told me
about Indians that used to be in the part of Miss. Where he lived. It didn’t
mention Indians there when I studied history in Miss. Mrs. Is a daughter of A.
M. Nix that used to be a Baptist preacher at Bethel above our house and other
places. She said he was about halfway a Primitive Baptist like my Grand Pa
Hallmark was. He preached hell fire and damnation sometimes when I heard him.

The next room on left is the one that I stay in. I have my troubles. Can’t
sleep at night very well. Doesn’t seem to hurt me very much to turn and toss
in the bed all night and not sleeping. I can sleep pretty good in a chair made
to relax in with my feet on the floor but don’t do too well with it raised.
Don’t complain too much about eating, but eat too much. Can’t sleep if
anything is making a noise at night. Guess I am too sensitive about that but
don’t seem to be able to help my sensitivities.

Next two rooms on the right have had a door cut in wall between. A Mr. and Mrs.
Live in them. The wife has a power vehicle to move around in. The husband is
sort of on the sick side and has a wheelchair. She pushes him wherever they go
with her power machine. He seemed to be bad sick when arriving here. Was very
nervous but somewhat better now. They always wave at me at meals. That’s all
I know about them.

Next on the left up from me is a Mrs. That has a son that runs the Frog Level
Internet. He is a very bright son. I once was in his net. Stayed in it a year
or two. Bought my first hard drive from him. His mother just barely can walk
slowly. She had a bad swelling In her ankle, but that is about gone. They give
her a dose of anti swelling medicine sometimes and that makes her feel bad. She
is the slowest walker on the place but doesn’t like to admit she needs wheel
chair. She has one that was her mothers but hates to use it. I get her walker
to her after she eats every day. She doesn’t understand me too well.

The next on left is a woman that has gone crazy from smoking cigarettes. A
friend of mine says it is from sleeping pills. She was smoking 10 or more
cigarettes a day out on the porch when me and friend were out there. Said it
wasn’t hurting her. She didn’t have much memory then. Said she was going
back to her hometown to her house. My friend didn’t convince her that it had
been sold. Finally her sister told her it was sold. She still thought that she
could go back. After that she went to sleeping all time and not coming out to
smoke. Her sister said she gave the last two packs to her and said keep them.
At the first of this week she slipped off from here and started walking, got on
highway 43 and cops brought her back. Her sister came and got her and took her
to Winfield Hospital. Don’t know if she will leave there with any sense or
not.

Next room on right is deformed sons. He is in a wheelchair all time now. The
crew pets him. He is getting very fat in the belly. They give him a coca cola
once or twice a day. He talks by sign language. He always gets what he wants.
He won’t eat food with any lumps in it. Takes him a long time to eat but he
always gets enough. He has a pretty good mind.
Can solve a certain type of crossword puzzle. He smiles at you when you do what
he wants. Quarrels at you and makes a big noise if things don’t suit him.

The last ones on the left side are the couple from Winfield. Her husband has
some kind of disease that mind gradually goes bad in old age. She is somewhat
disabled herself and has to wear an oxygen mask. He was doing pretty good a
couple of years ago when I came. Would join in church songs sometimes. Was very
friendly and named same last name as a teacher I used to have at Kirkland. She
is a clay artist and has made many beautiful things from clay. They are a very
friendly family. He got to where she could not even get him to the dining hall
lately and she had to send him to the hospital In Winfield. Hope he improves
and gets to come back.

The last one on the right on my end is hard to describe. She had many gripes
about the place when I came. About 6 months ago she was so fed up with
everything that she decided to starve herself to death. Mrs. Below me had the
same idea. Mrs. Below me left .I don’t know if she starved or not. This one
kept dieting for about a month. I told her she had better start eating if she
didn’t want to starve to death. She started eating a little 3 or 4 days later
and survived. She’s not as alert as she was before.

I will start on the aisle to the left today. The first room contains a lady that
tries to be real friendly. She is in the middle 90s and used to shake hands with
me before she fell and broke her hip. She stayed in the hospital about 2 or 3
months but finally came back. They roll her in a wheel chair part of the time
and let her walk part of the time. When walking she groans about every step.
She still has her mind more or less. She always eats real well. She is one of
the few that have survived hip fractures.

The second room on the right houses a blind lady. Her sister comes and helps her
eat part of the time. Some of the time she eats at a table in the dining hall.
She ate at the other end of my table for a month or two. She needs to be told
where she can find things to eat. I tried to help her find things she had
missed at end of meal. Some days she is feeling bad and doesn’t want to eat
at all. The aids just take her back to her room. I feel sorry for her. They
walk her to eat sometimes. She tries to walk around sometimes and has her hands
in front of her. She can’t find anything.

The first one on the left past laundry room is a woman in 60s with mental
degeneration. She doesn’t know where she is, where her room is or anything.
She is one of the best dancers on the place. The one on the other end that
sleeps with his girlfriend danced with her and he is a good dancer. She had a
bowel movement in the middle of her bedroom floor one day. They don’t let her
outside for feat she might walk off. She generally smiles at me when I wave at
her.

The next one on the right is real reserved. She speaks to very few people and
seems to not trust many of them. I judge to be in the high 80s. She was in the
hospital for a while back in the spring. When the aid tried to get her to walk
she told her she would see her in hell. But they got her to walk anyhow. She
goes to her room when meals are over and stays there generally to mealtime
again. I believe it would help her if she would figure that everyone liked her.

The next one on the left is a comparatively new lady that is 90 and in a wheel
chair. She is friendly and rolls her own wheel chair most of the time. She
smiles every time I speak to her. She is trying to do the best she can. Eats
what she wants of most every meal. I believe she thinks that everyone likes
her. I believe she may have some similarities in disposition to me.

The next one on the right is a relative new lady I don’t really know. She
seems to be happy eating in the dining hall. Comes in a walker roller and has
trouble getting out but leaves in a fast pace. Seems to me she walks to fast
for her age. I tried to talk to her once. She finally gave me her name which I
promptly forgot. She didn’t seem to hear too well.
If I had advice it would be to slow down and be lazy.

The next one on the left can communicate with one, play cards, do most anything
and she has had a triple bypass and the Dr. didn’t give her long to live. She
has already lived 2 or 3 years and looks as if she may live a few more. She eats
well and with 3 other ladies that can communicate. She is like me she likes to
eat too well. I play cards when she is playing sometimes. She told me not to
get mad if I lose and I haven’t got angry a time yet.

The next one on the right is a one that I knew the family she married into. Her
husbands dad was a farm man under Roosevelt that came along and measured
dad’s cotton land and had my dad plow up part of it. That made my dad angry.
Her husband used to tell me hello at eating place. He died a year or two ago.
She is in a wheel chair most of the time.
They have to keep her tied down so she will not fall out. She is friendly and
doesn’t talk unless asked something. Aids have walked her a small amount.
Some of her husbands brothers and sisters went to school with me at Kirkland Jr
Hi.

The next one on the left is a man. He was a salesman and worked 2 jobs most of
his life before having a stroke. He knew a lot of the people in the county that
I didn’t know and a few that I did. I enjoy talking to him. He is like my wife
on the food. Not much of it any good. He knows about some of the businesses I
knew about. Like at Hubbardville. He said working 2 jobs before he had stroke
caused him to have it. He didn’t know about the saving power of aspirin
before stroke. He is a big sportsman. To me the one that wins is the best.

The next one on the right is a lady that lived up the road about 2 miles from
me. She is one of the ones still in pretty good health at 96 or 97. I used to
meet her and husband walking the road in her neighborhood. She eats pretty good
at the table. It takes her about 3 tries to get up and into her walker. Her
daughter helps her one day and stepdaughter the next day. She didn’t want to
be moved up to a closer room. Said the ones up there died quicker. She may make
it to 100.

The next one on the left is a famous one. She apparently has plenty of money.
She doesn’t seem to like the food here too well either. She has not eaten
here more than a tenth of the time. Her husband was some one associated with
foot ball coaching at the University of Ala. She hasn’t been here in a couple
of weeks. I don’t know if she is with her daughter or sick. I guess she is
still paying for her room. She always spoke to me. Some said she wasn’t
friendly. I assume everyone is friendly whether they are or not.

The next room on the right is a woman or about 96 or 97 years herself. She
always walks to the dining hall with a walker. She didn’t want up front
either. She eats with 3 others she can talk to. She has a daughter and a sister
that come to see her very often. They don’t help her get up and in and out of
walker. She is a real old timer. She takes the Birmingham News and reads that
part of the day. She doesn’t seem to worry when it doesn’t get to her room
on time. Maybe not worrying has helped her to live a long life.

The next one on the left is the wife of a Chiropractor of Winfield, Al. Her
Daughter comes to see her nearly every day. She is Hard of hearing but very
friendly. Her daughter shouts at her and she can hear that. If she could hear
she would be able to talk to one. I wish she could. Her daughter said she could
tell a wonderful story of history.

The last one on the right is a man that has been here many years. He was 97 this
year. He always rolls his walker like mine to meals. Puts it aside outside and
walks on in to the first table. He comes to all the bingo games and generally
wins one or more tickets. He talks if you ask him something and he hears it. He
is a little hard of hearing. Everyone there thinks he is a great man. He has
some automatic lifts in his room.

The last one on the left is a woman. She used to be a school teacher. My man
friend said she was very smart in her youth. Her son runs a business across
road from college. He seems to be doing fairly well. He comes to see her on
Sunday. She has had a bunch of operations that have left her nearly without a
mind. Sometimes she doesn’t know where her room is. She has been known to go
in someone else’s room and start taking off her shoes. I was walking down at
her end of hall one day and she came out of one of the rooms on her right
stripped from waist on down. I told her that her room was on the left. That
didn’t excite me. I felt sorry for her.


Anybody Can Write

by

Fred McCaleb


Saying that anybody can write wouldn't be quite true. One would need to know how
to form the letters of the alphabet with a writing instrument such as a pencil,
pen, typewriter or computer keyboard. He would need the use of one arm, hand
and fingers. He would need to know a few simple words.
What would one write about? The first choice would be to write about something
he knew about. He could write about his friends, about his parents, about his
possessions, about his brothers and sisters, about his shortcomings and about a
thousand other areas. There would be many unique areas in which he had
experiences he wished to record. One of my favorite subjects to write about is
the history of my ancestors. Another favorite area is principles of good
living. I sometimes write about unpleasant experiences in WWII or in other
places. The area of doing positive thinking is a good place to pick a subject.
Who would be interested in your writing? Probably there would be no one
particularly interested in what you had to say even if it were very good. Write
down what you have to say for your own satisfaction and keep a copy of it from
now on. Somewhere down the line someone may read it after fifty or a hundred
years have passed and think it is old and unique and out of the dark ages.
Writing in the present time is sort of like talking. The fellow talking is too
busy thinking of his point of view to pay any attention to what you have to say
and your point of view. Many good newspaper articles are written and very few
ever bother to read the article. The author spent serious time researching and
writing the article, and then the article is only read by a few people. Most
readers are like my grandpa McCaleb when the editor of the Fayette Banner was
trying to sell him a year's subscription. My grandpa told him, "One could read
the Fayette Banner and eat a bait of popcorn and have nothing on his mind or
stomach either." He also told an early radio salesman that he wouldn't have his
radio because he (grandpa) wanted to half the talking. My aunt said he wanted to
do all the talking. So grandpa did the talking, and he did no writing, and I
have none of his writing except his signature to his marriage license when he
and grandma ran away and got married at Aberdeen, Ms.

One of the most interesting pieces of writing I have run into in my family is my
GG grandma Zilpha Galloway Hollingsworth's fifty page notebook. She was the
second wife of the first John Hollingsworth of Fayette County, Al. The first
wife Matilda White had died after having seven Hollingsworth’s. The second wife
Zilpah had seventeen children and kept a notebook. Her penmanship is beautiful.
The births, deaths, marriages, grandchildren, Civil War service, family
transactions and everything is right there. Her grammar wasn't perfect, but
there was no trouble knowing what she had to say. I am so thankful for her. She
was the only one of my ancestors that wrote anything down. The writing in old
deeds and wills is interesting, but that was done by county court house clerks.
The earliest writing I have was done by a priest in an English Church about the
time Christopher Columbus sailed for America. It is in Latin and concerns the
Hallmark branch of my family.
Do you have to write perfect to be a writer? The answer is no. If you are
striving for perfection you may never get the first page written. The diary is
a good place to write if just writing for your own satisfaction. Do most people
think their diary is important? Most I have asked about it don't think so. But
the older a diary becomes the more valuable it is. I recently copied a diary
written by Nick Morris of NE Fayette County, Al. from 1891 to 1930. There is
some very interesting and valuable information in that diary. He probably
thought it worthless. He wrote one sentence per day for about 40 years and
mentioned things that can't be found anywhere else. What one writes is or may
be important sometime. Unfortunately, I have never kept a diary. Some events in
my life have been written down.
The letter is a good place to practice writing. Write your congressman about
your thinking on some political issue. A letter stating your views in your own
hand writing has more influence than your vote. It doesn't have to be perfectly
punctuated. If the letter looks too perfect the congressman may think it is a
form letter composed by someone else. Write your parents, brothers, sisters,
and friends. Save the letters they write you.
The letters will become more important the older they become. I have old letters
received through the years including the V-mail I received while on Saipan in
WWII. It didn't seem like much then, but now I can revisit with my mother again
as I read her old letters of concern about me. She was always disappointed when
she went to the mail box and no letter from me was there.
I have tried to be a writer, but haven't become perfect at it yet. There is
always a comma, a semicolon, a colon, too many words for the meaning meant to
convey. The thoughts are poorly organized and paragraphed. But still I write. I
am sort of dumb on writing. I guess I am also stubborn, have an ego, or
something. So far I have never let anyone convince me that I couldn't write as
I did with speaking and singing. If you think you can, you can. If you think you
can't, you can't. So far I am too dumb to know I can't. I do realize I need to
improve, so some day there may be hope that I will be a good writer. But I
don't have too many "some days" left, so I better get busy and write something
of my times down.
I have written in my own way a family history of my ancestors. The main part of
this took up about 650 pages. It remains far from complete, but each time I get
something new I insert the new info into the book. To keep the book from being
trashed I have given copies to about ten libraries across the country including
the Mormon Library in Salt Lake City, Utah. Generations a hundred years from now
will know that I existed and thank me for the work I did. I get genealogical
phone calls and letters concerning common ancestors every few days. My
genealogical writings are in the Fayette and Winfield Libraries in the
genealogical section.
If you want to write, pick something you are interested in and start. Don't let
anyone stop you. You may become an authoritative writer in that field some day.
You may want to write about dolls. There are many varieties of them.


My Father




by

Fred McCaleb


My father was H McCaleb. The H was just a letter of the alphabet and not an
initial for a given name. Sometimes it was spelled Aytch. His mother, Rejina
Catherine Hollingsworth McCaleb, studied the Blueback Speller (memorized much
of it) at the little log schoolhouse she attended. She memorized the spelling
of all the alphabetic letters, and for some reason she called my dad's first
name H. My dad was born February 18, 1893 in Northeast Fayette County Alabama.
His parents were James (Jim) Franklin McCaleb and Rejina Catherine
Hollingsworth. Rejina's mother was a McCaleb,Elizabeth (Bet) Jane McCaleb the
daughter of Andrew McCaleb. Andrew was an older brother of Alfred McCaleb.
Grandpa Jim McCaleb was the son of Alfred McCaleb. So I suppose my father must
have been loaded with McCaleb genes.



My father was the oldest of the Jim McCaleb family. Jim and Rejina got off on
the wrong start at the beginning of their marriage. Jim and Rejina ran away to
Aberdeen, MS to get married. Rejina's father John R. Hollingsworth didn't like
Jim from the start. Jim and Rejina started farming, the mule died and the crop
failed, and by that time my dad was born. Jim was faced with feeding the
family. He went to Texas to make a fortune. One of his McCaleb uncles owned a
ranch there. Whether he worked for this uncle I never found out. My grandmother
went home to her Hollingsworth parents. She and baby H resided there until
grandpa arrived back from Texas. I suppose the Hollingsworths took care of my
dad and grandma for a year or two. In Texas my grandpa got lightning struck
from the legs on down. The lightning knocked the tacks out of his shoes. He
kept the shoes and showed them to visitors all during his lifetime. By the time
daddy started to school John R. Hollingsworth had given grandma a track of
woodland. Grandpa hewed out logs for a one room log house, and had cleared up
some land for crops. My dad went to school at Clover Hill. Clover Hill was a
church building about a mile away. The church buildings also served as school
buildings at that time. Religion and learning were freely mixed. I went to that
one teacher school when I was in the third grade. My dad didn't seem to
accomplish much learning in school. He was left handed. The teacher tried to
make him use his right hand. One of his teachers was Raymond W. Hiten. After my
dad got older his father kept him out of school much of the time to help with
the farm work. So his education was of a meager amount of book learning. He
could write a little and read slowly. In his older days, the main thing he read
was the Bible. Mr. Hiten's son, Hollis Hiten, told me of dad being in the school
play one time. Dad played the part of the hoot owl in a tree outside the
building. Hollis said dad did real well with that. I suppose dad had the
equivalent of about a fifth grade education.



My dad was a farm boy during his youth. Farm families hoped to have boy babies
back then. They could help their father do hard work. Grandpa tried to get as
much work as possible from my dad. He had a crop to make every summer, and
woodland to be cleared of trees every winter. So my dad was trained to use a
cross cut saw, a chopping axe, a broad axe, how to hoe cotton and corn and how
to plow a mule. He knew all about hitching mules to buggies, wagons, and plows.
He came up in the tradition of hard work, hard knocks, and bad luck. Not much
was done back then to boost his ego. He did manage to buy a fancy riding saddle
by the time he was grown. He could then show off by riding his horse or mule at
high speed to the church gatherings. I recollect his saddle. It finally
deteriorated sometime after I was grown. Owning a fancy saddle and fast horse
back in his early days was about like owning a fancy high speed sports car
today. Dad's education was more of a learning by doing manual farm labor than
of school learning. My dad rebelled against grandpa about the time he was
grown. He and grandpa got crosswise about something. Grandpa tried to punish
him for. He left on a train for Texas to seek his fortune just as grandpa had
done. He found a job in The Rio Grande valley as a hand on a vegetable farm. In
about six months or a year he became tired of that and wrote a conciliatory
letter to grandpa for money to pay railroad fare back home to Alabama. Grandpa
sent enough money for the train fare, but nothing for eating. It took two or
three days to get back from Texas, and dad was about starved when he got home.
He then stayed home until he married my mother, Eza Etta Hallmark.





My dad was more of a sociable being than was my mother. According to Myrtle
Ervin Herren, he could be talked into driving the mule wagon with Myrtle and
his sister Mary McCaleb to social events. Myrtle described a bob tailed grey
mule and a black mule that grandpa had. Dad would hitch the mules to a wagon
and drive the girl’s high speed to an all day singing. Myrtle was amused at how
the bob tail mule's tail flopped around as they proceeded to a gathering. Dad
must have been easy prey for the girls to talk him into taking them where they
wanted to go. Dad was sociable in other ways. He always liked to fox hunt and
kept fox hunting hound dogs. He had many fox hunting friends. The friends would
talk him into going fox hunting Saturday night. They would stay out all night
listening to the dogs run the fox and tell big tales. Also they liked to brag
on the dogs. My mother wasn't too impressed with this. I wasn't either. I went
fox hunting one time. That turned out to be enough for me for a lifetime. My
mother cooked cornbread for the dogs. The dogs were never allowed inside the
house as many modern little and big pet dogs are allowed. My dad never expected
to imprison his dogs. He wanted them to be free to run rabbits, bark at “buggars”
or do what they wished at night. Dad had too many fox hunting friends. He most
always tried to go to church, at least as long as I knew, each Sunday. He was
biased against other religious beliefs other than his own. The best I could
find out, when young, my dad got into trouble using too much alcohol a time or
two. Momma said that soon after they were married, some of dad's social friends
got him drunk? at an all day singing. He got fined a few dollars. Momma paid off
the fine. She also let him know that such behavior shouldn't happen again.
Another fellow told me that his daddy and my daddy got into a fight with a
black boy at some social gathering. They didn't think the black boy should be
there and raised a fuss with him and hurt him. I never thought my dad was
biased against the blacks. He and Dave McCollum, a black, used to cut railroad
crossties together when I was a little boy. They could hue out eight in a day.
The next day they would load the ties on a wagon and take them to Bazemore and
receive fifty cents apiece for the ties, thereby making one dollar a day. It
was hard work, and the compensation was about as good as they could get back
then. I still have the broadax my dad cut the ties with.



My dad married Eza Etta Hallmark of northeast Fayette County Alabama. She was
the daughter of Samuel Winn Hallmark and Mary Roxie Eason. They were married
August 15,1915 at the Hallmark parents home. Daddy had a mule and the fancy
saddle mentioned earlier when he was courting momma. He lived about 5 miles
from where momma lived. I guess they met at Killingsworth (Now Newriver)
Baptist Church. Daddy had some Woodard first cousins that lived near the
church. Grandma's sister Martha Hollingsworth married Melton Woodard, and their
children were first cousins of my dad. I expect the Woodard cousins somehow made
the connection.The cousin Alma Woodard and my momma were big friends. She told
me that her and momma were the smartest two in the little school at
Killingsworth, and that their teacher tried to get them to take the test to
become qualified to teach school. They didn't take the test. Perhaps they were
more interested in becoming Mrs. H McCaleb and Mrs. Holly Tucker.





The children of H McCaleb and Eza Etta Hallmark were me, Fred McCaleb born
September 7, 1916, Hubert McCaleb born September 28, 1919, Clancy McCaleb (a
girl) born September 21, 1921, Thomas Raburn McCaleb born 27th July, 1925 and
died two years later, Clara Jean McCaleb born December 26, 1930 in Lee County
Mississippi, and Leroy Dewitt McCaleb born May 21, 1934. We were raised up much
as my dad had been raised up. By the influence of my mother, we were never
required to work many hours on the farm when school was in session. The first
three children never had any transportation other than their two feet, a mule
drawn wagon, and some train rides. We were required to work in the fields doing
hard farm manual labor. The last two children, Jean and Leroy were almost a
separate family from the first three. My dad had a Chevrolet pickup truck by
the time they were grown. The truck was the only auto he ever had during his
life. He paid for it mostly from an allotment from my pay while I was a soldier
in WW2. The wheel of progress? had turned slightly by the time Jean and Leroy
were grown. I had given them a bicycle to to get around on. So they had a
little more than their two feet and the mule drawn wagon. My sister Clancy
thought she was a boy, or at least she could do anything a boy could, until she
was about 16. We walked across most of the county one day by 1PM to our uncle
Arthur Hallmark's House. On arriving there Arthur persuaded Hubert and I to go
squirrel hunting. Clancy didn't go with us on that. We walked in the woods the
rest of the evening. We didn't have any trouble sleeping that night until 4AM
when Arthur came shouting "last call for breakfast." It was the habit of many
farmers back then to get up at 4-5 AM and get ready to go to work by daylight
in the fields. The work hours were from sunup to sundown with about an hour out
for lunchtime. It took most of that to get to the house, eat, and rest about 30
minutes.





Our growing up seemed mostly hardships to me. Our pleasures seemed to be mostly
non-existant. Hubert and I saved our money and bought a Sears and Roebuck 22
rifle for about seven dollars. We went squirrel hunting, but killed few
squirrels. We practiced target shooting. I shot at many birds. I shouldn't have
done that, but the birds were mostly safe. It was very rare that I ever hit one.
I got pleasure out of making truck wagons. The wheels were sawed from a black
gum log. We would ride the home made wagons down a steep hill in a path winding
between the trees. Hubert and I had one little red wagon my dad bought us when
very young. We and our friends tore it up in a month or two. Dad never bought
us another toy of any kind. That was probably the nicest thing he ever did for
me. I had to learn to use what few tools he owned and make things for myself.
When I was young I had a click and wheel to run up and down the gravel road.
The wheel was a rim off an old wagon wheel hub. The click was a stiff piece of
wire with a U on one end. The U fit the bottom back of the wheel and one ran
down the road making the wheel turn. Hubert, I, and our Trim boyfriends walked
to a few basketball games when in junior high school. Mt. Vernon was only 7
miles away. Wayside was about 6 miles away. I don't know if that was pleasure
or not. Anyhow we got our exercise. When I was young I was pretty good at
climbing trees. I climbed one slim tree to about 20 feet high. It bent over
with me down to about ten feet. I couldn't get back down via the tree, so I had
to let drop to the ground. I bent my knees so they would have spring and landed
safely. Young boys used to see how wide a ditch they could jump. I think about
6 feet wide was the best I ever did. I built a 2 seat farris wheel one time.
Clancy and someone, I think Hubert, agreed to test it. Clancy landed about 12
feet up in the air with Hubert on the bottom. She sort of got shook up but got
down some way, I don't know how fast. I had to write that project off as a
failure. One of my most pleasurable recollections was when I was at my grandpa
Jim McCaleb's house. I was about 9 years old. He was in the field plowing a
mule hooked to an Avery cricket turning plow. He let me plow a few rounds and I
thought I was really up in the world. No one had ever let me do that before. He
had trusted me and let me do something the grown ups did all the time. I was
wanting to be like the grownups. You had to set your life to the examples the
grown ups provided. There was no radio or tv to let one know how ignorant the
grownups were, and how to hate them. The way my grandparents picked up the news
back then was by going to some neighbors house nearly every night. They would
discuss their problems of the day, what they had heard about the neighbors,
etc. There was no instant news back then. When someone died the neighbors would
take turns staying up all night. Myrtle Erwin, my first school teacher, said she
just loved to stay up with grandpa McCaleb present. He would just keep on
talking, and she loved it. I never was as sociable as my grandpa McCaleb and my
dad. About the only advice my dad ever gave me about women was to marry a
healthy one. He said to examine their teeth like the horsetraders did in buying
and selling mules and horses. He also wanted me to be a decent person. My mother
said not to get married until I was 30 years old. I took their advice and got
married to a nice healthy woman.





My dad mostly raised his family in Fayette County Ala. The first place I
recollect living was on Boxes Creek. It was away from everything, even a gravel
road. The school there was Skimming Ridge, a one teacher school. It was about
1/2 mile away. We walked a path that crossed Boxes Creek over a footlog with
only one banister to hold to. Momma's friend, Alma Sherer Kizzire, was the
second teacher I had there. She made an example out of her son Albert and
myself. We got the full round of punishments. At the time we lived there my dad
and his uncle Jim Hollingsworth had a fish trap on the creek. To have a mess of
fish he went to the fish trap and brought back the fish. Sometimes there was a
snake in the trap. I recollect my dad having steel traps set to catch mink.
Their hides were valuable to put on women's fur coats. Once in a while daddy
would catch a mink, skin it, and stretch the hide over a special shaped board
to dry. Then he would sell it when dried for about $4. That was cruelty to the
mink family to make a little money so the socialites of New York could wear the
latest style fur collar on their coat. The next place my dad took the family was
a little house on his daddy Jim McCaleb's place. We stayed there a year. Our
next door neighbor was Neil Sprinkle who was a county deputy sheriff. My dad
liked the sport? of rooster fighting, and that was against the law. My dad
ordered steel spurs for his game rooster. One of his social friends came with
his rooster. They fought the roosters in one of the mule stables. They fought
to the death, and dad's rooster won out. This was in sight of the deputy
sheriff's house, and rooster fighting was illegal. We shared a well with the
Sprinkles. The well went dry in the summer. Then we got drinking water from
Grandpa's drilled well. That well had yellow mineral water in it. My mother did
her washing in tubs and washpot heated water from a little stream that ran by
the house. She washed when the stream wasn't muddy. There was no running water
in the houses. Water was made to run by sending a boy to the well to draw a
bucketfull and run back with it. My brother, Thomas Raburn McCaleb, was born at
this place in 1925 and died two years later in Lee County, Miss. While at
grandpa's place I went to the one teacher school, Clover Hill, taught by Mrs.
Hassie Reed. She traveled to the school, from about 4 miles down the road, in a
buggy pulled by her favorite horse. This was the same school house where my
daddy had attended classes. He hadn't gained very much " book larnin" there. I
must not have learned too much there either. I failed the third grade after
moving to Mississippi where there was a better school. But Mrs. Reed was a very
nice lady. In the winter of 1925-26 we moved to a place between Nettleton and
Shannon, MS. There they had excellent schools for their time. Mrs. Carter kept
me in the third grade for two years. I never failed anything completely after
that. The farm my dad had in Mississippi was too wet for farming most of the
years. Occasionally the weather would cooperate. My brother Raburn died with
membrane croup or diphtheria. Momma held him while he choked to death. All the
then family had the malarial. Daddy nearly died with the malarial fever. A big
hero of mine in 1927 was Charles A. Lindburg when he flew across the Atlantic in
the Spirit of St. Louis. I read the Memphis Press Scimiter each day to see if
Lindburg was going to make it. After that flight nearly all boys in the school
got a leather aviators cap. It was good to shed the rain and to keep the ears
warm in the winter. The move to Mississippi was a good thing from the
standpoint of education for his three oldest children. From an economic and
health standpoint it was a bad move. By 1932 daddy had had enough of
Mississippi. He moved the family back to Alabama to a farm on the west side of
the Luxapallila river ten miles northwest of Fayette, Alabama. Here he resided
until his children had all left him and married. He died October 31st,1958. At
this farm he cleared the trees from about 20 acres of land called newground. I
was at the other end of the crosscut saw in much of this clearing. In this work
I learned to sharpen saws. My dad was left handed and not adept at using tools
to make or fix things. At this last place my father lived he was finally able
to have electricity about 1945. After electricity the children installed an
indoor bathroom, a well pump for running water, and a refrigerator and
electric stove for the kitchen. The family had never had any of this before. He
was up in the world. His family had never had even an outside Johnny. They had
to use the mule stables, high timber, or high cotton. The Sears & Roebuck
catalog was used for toilet paper. Some used corn cobs that were obtained when
a turn of corn (about 1 bushel shelled corn) was prepared to take to the grist
mill to be ground into meal for cornbread. This sounds crude by present
standards, but we were among the well to do. My dad made about $400 a year from
the farm. He was too rich for me to get into the CCC camp just before WW2. We
would be in super poverty now. Many people now make more than $400 in one day.
My outlook on things is quaint and antiquated.





What was it like having a father like mine? I guess the way things turned out I
couldn't have been luckier even if I had picked my parents before being born.
My dad had some bad habits. The worst of his habits was smoking. That lead to
his early death when he was only 65 years old. In his last years he had
emphysema and had to do much struggling even to get a breath of air. He tried
to be sociable and do what others were doing. I have never been much of a one
to try to do what the Joneses are doing myself unless what they are doing
sounds logical. My dad was somewhat of a tease and criticizer. He had the habit
of foxhunting sometimes with his friends all night on Saturday night. I heard
him and one of his foxhunting friends discussing their children one day. The
friend told my daddy his children wouldn't do what he told them to do. My dad
told the man he didn't have any trouble with his children disobeying. He told
him he just didn't tell his children to do anything, therefore you get perfect
obedience. As you can see he liked to outtalk the other fellow. He would let a
traveling salesman talk his pitch an hour before telling him he wouldn't buy.
At the same time if a salesman came along late in the evening he would invite
him to spend the night so they could get in some talking. My dad tried to
never punish his children while he was angry. He had the good habit of going to
church most every Sunday. He was biased against other churches than his own.
Only his could have the whole truth. Who in the population isn't biased against
something? My dad never heard of psychology, but he was adept at using reverse
psychology. When he gave me $2.45 for a Greyhound bus ticket to Berry College
at Rome, Ga. to work my way through there, he said he expected me back home in
about 2 weeks. I never showed back up until I had earned enough for the first
year's tuition. I would have completely lost face if I had left and come back
home. When my sister Clancy was ready to go to Berry he told her that education
was no good for girls. The only thing they were good for was to have babies.
That completely determined her to go to college or bust. She made a more
outstanding record there than either Hubert or me. There was no welfare to go
to for help in dad's day. When a family was in trouble the neighbors would help
out if they knew about the need. My dad would share what little he had and could
spare with another family. When we were in Mississippi he found out that Roy
Williams and his two sisters were starving. My dad carried a bushel of cornmeal
and some homecanned goods to the family. The family was too proud to ask anyone
for help, and dad may have saved their life. When I was in my teens, I judged
my dad to be sort of ignorant and making mistakes in the way he managed things.
When I was older I realized he did the best he knew how with what he had. Later
on I knew not to make the same mistakes he had made. Never in my life did I
become disloyal to my parents or to my brothers and sisters. My daddy's ways
made me want to do better. His influence never steered me in the wrong
direction.



I have already mentioned dad's means of transportation: his two feet, saddle and
horseback, mules and wagon and finally a pickup truck. The truck was in his last
days.





Daddy's religion was Church of Christ, non instrumental type. He was more
religious than momma but no better in the practice thereof. The church was the
main center of social activities back then. The church building was also the
school house. The preachers were self educated in the Bible. Everyone believed
their interpretation of the Bible was correct. The churches were small country
congregations. The members arrived on foot, on horseback, and on wagons. Mules
and horses were tied to trees in the woods around the church buildings.
Sometimes a dog came along and came in the building during services. The big
events were the Big Meetings held by a preacher in August after the crops were
"laid by." The preacher generally got a few conversions during the meeting.
Baptizing was in a nearby river or pool. The big events were the "all day
singings." All types of people attended the singings. Singers all tried to do
their best and make a joyful noise unto the Lord. Many people stayed outside
never going into the house. Sometimes there was a whiskey bootlegger around
selling liquor to the outsiders. It was not unusual for someone to get drunk.
At noon a dinner was spread on a sheet on the ground or in the back of a wagon
bed. Some people labeled these singings as "an all day singing, dinner on the
ground, and the Devil all around." As mentioned before, my dad got mixed up
with the alcohol devils at least once during his early life. People of other
beliefs and people with no belief or principle at all came to the singings. I
suppose something of a religious nature rubbed on to many of the attendees. The
churches had singing schools in the summer when crops were laid by. I went to
one or two singing schools. There I learned a little about music, but didn't
learn how to sing. My dad never learned anything about singing. I suppose it
was not in the McCaleb genes until it got to my daughter Bettie Dawn McCaleb
Boswell.That must have come from her mother's family. Part of them couldn't
sing either.



How did my dad manage his economic affairs? That was easy. He had nothing to
manage. His average income was about $400 per year. He grew most of the things
the family ate. He grew enough sorghum cane to make about 30 gallons of
molasses. He generally raised 3 fattening hogs so we could have meat and lard.
He had a cow or two to furnish milk. He had chickens running all over the place
to furnish eggs and fried chicken. He was a squirrel hunter and killed squirrels
to eat. He also killed rabbits until they said the rabbits were infected with
somekind of disease. At the first place I recollect living he had a supply of
fish from the illegal fishtrap. There was no lawn mower. The chickens mowed the
yard. We went barefoot in the summer. Sometimes I stepped on a black chicken
manure dropping and squished it between my toes. Grandpa Jim McCaleb loaned the
money to buy the place. Dad never was able to get all that paid. With his $400
income he bought flour, cloth for women's dresses and men's shirts, two pairs
of denim ovralls per boy per year, one pair of shoes per year for the winter,
sugar, salt, pepper, soda, spices, coffee etc. The corncrop supplied cornbread
for the year and fed the mules for another crop. He had several stands of bees
to make honey for the family. He spent part of the $400 for smoking tobacco.
That was a shame, but people have to have their nicotine and freedom to die
early. We were rich and never starved, luckily. One summer his money gave out.
He told us we would have to eat cornbread for breakfast until the crops were
sold. My mother and I agreed. Eating cornbread for breakfast was a loss of face
for him. He went to the Raymond Harris store in Winfield and they credited him
with a barrel of flour for the summer. My dad managed his affairs on what one
might call nothing in the way of income. If you don't have an income you have
to figure ways to get along without one. That he did. He never believed in
credit. I never believed in credit either. Maybe I learned at least that much
from him. He had a good credit rating among the local merchants, but never used
it unless real hard up.





My dad's attitude toward his brothers and sisters wasn't too good. His oldest
sister Mary McCaleb married Lonnie Box. Lonnie did some moonshining and liquor
peddling. We drove up to Lonnies in the farm wagon to visit when I was young. I
recollect Lonnie giving me a sip of whiskey on one occasion. I reckon dad loved
his sister Mary but thought she had married the wrong man. The Boxes were
better off financially than our family. When we visited them one time in 1925
Lonnie had a brand new T-model Ford touring car. He took us for a 3 or 4 mile
ride. That was my first automobile ride. Daddy would never engage in any shady
operation to make money. He remained a financially poor man all his life but
rich in other ways. My dad's brother Walker McCaleb when a young man got drunk
and into a fight with another drunk. The drunk cut Walker with a knife. Walker
lost the use of one of his arms. Dad thought grandpa and grandma always gave
Walker preferential treatment by giving him more assistance than they did dad.
Walker was the only one of that family that went to high school. There was a
boarding high school at Eldridge, Al. Walker went a year there. Whether dads
idea of unfair treatment was justified or not I could never tell. My dad loved
his sister Verla McCaleb better than the rest. He was dissatisfied that she
married Louie Roby when she was only about 14 years old. Louie seemed like a
real nice sociable man. His sociability got him mixed up with drinking and
drunks. One of his friends killed him and threw him out beside the road
sometime in the 1950s. Then Verla raised three nice Roby boys. Her son Roland
and his wife are teachers at Hubbardville High School. Verla was a very nice
lady and is still living at age 85 in 1995. She had a very hard life and lived
more years than any of my dad's family. All the rest have already gone on to
the Great Beyond.





My dad made a living by farming. The methods used were crude by comparison to
modern ones. Mulepower and manpower were the power sources. The land was broken
with turning plows pulled by a mule and operated by a boy or man and sometimes a
girl. Corn and cotton stalks were cut,in the spring, by a stalk cutter pulled by
2 mules. The land to be planted to cotton or corn was first middle busted. Then
guano from South America was put in the furrow and covered by listing a row
with a turning plow. The guano was strowed by hand through a funnel held by the
left hand and the right hand put the guano through the hand distributor from a
bag on the shoulder. After the rows were made a section harrow was dragged over
the tops of 3 rows at a time with 2 mules pulling the harrow. After the rows
were prepared, a mule drawn planter was used to plant the cotton or corn. If
too much rain came after the seeds came up the crab grass would grow faster
than the cotton or corn. The women of the family or younger members did the
back breaking hoeing. Farmers finally learned to plant the corn in a furrow
instead of on top of the row. That way, if the corn grew faster than the grass,
a plow or hoe could be used to cover the grass instead of digging it up. My dad
never seemed to learn any of the shortcuts of farming. We generally did things
the hardest possible way. There were no pesticides being marketed at that time.
They did have paris green for the potato bugs in the garden. In the fall of the
year the corn was pulled by hand and thrown into heaps. Then the heaps were
picked up and thrown into the bed of the farm wagon and hauled to the corncrib
at the barn. The corn crop was used for corn meal for the family, and to feed
the mules to make another crop, and to feed the hogs to make them grow large to
have meat for the family. The cotton was picked by hand into long ducking
picksacks that drug behind the picker. Some people could pick about 240 pounds
of cotton in one day. I never did pick more than 150 pounds a day and not that
much too often. About 1400 pounds of cotton was picked and emptied into a tall
wagon bed and pulled to a ginn by the mules to get into a line and wait your
turn for the seed cotton to be ginned into a 500 pound bale of cotton. A bale
of cotton during the depression sold for as low as $25. The seeds were swapped
for cottonseed meal and hulls to be fed to the cows. Enough cotton seeds were
kept for next year's planting. The above is not a full coverage of everything
that went on, but gives some idea. The cow and horse manure in the stables was
hauled to the garden spot or a field where the land was poorer. We raised some
beautiful gardens when the only fertilizer used was cow or horse manure.



What did my daddy like to do best of all? Talking maay have been his best sport.
Fox hunting combined with talking would have been second or perhaps even first.
He loved hunting of any type. He was squirrel hunting when he fell over dead in
the woods. My dad loved hound dogs for fox hunting. He also loved squirrel
treeing dogs. We once had a small black fist dog that was good at treeing
squirrels. He loved all kinds of domestic animals and always treated his plow
mules good. He plowed the gentle mule and let me plow the wild one. I don't
know if he made his mule gentle or if I made mine wild. It was uncertin whether
my mule was wilder or that I made her wilder. Anyway we were both higher
tempered than dad and his mule. His mule was named Maud and my mule was named
Ida. Ida didn't go for someone trying to ride her. Hubert onetime talked my
sister Clancy into trying to ride Ida. Clancy soon had been thrown to the
ground. Momma saw all this happening. Needless to say, she was upset. The mules
we had before Maud and Ida were Nig and Nance. Nig was a small black mule, and
Nance was a small brown mule. I wonder how daddy arrived at naming Nig. I would
just love to have a picture of these helpers on the farm. No pictures of them
were ever taken. Daddy loved to go to gatherings, church or other type. That
gave him an outlet for talking. He wouldn't help momma do anything in the
kitchen at home. I found out from a foxhunting friend of his that dad was
appointed at a foxhunting convention to make a washpot of brunswick stew. The
friend said it was the best he had ever eaten. He must have kept that secret
from momma. I guess I have done my wife, Bettie Virginia Cline, that way.
Perhaps some of my dad coming out in me. I guess I should say that my dad liked
to tease people. I don't think that went over too well with momma.





My dad did'nt have much choice in the way of food. His favorite meat was beef.
My mother hated the smell of beef. She had a pet calf during her childhood that
granpa Samuel Winn (Bud) Hallmark had killed for beef. That completely turned
momma against beef. She didn't want any beef in the house. Daddy would
occasionally slip off to Loftis Cafe in Fayette and have a mess of beef with
the turnip greens, greasy biscuits, potatoes and the gravy that went with it.
The cost of a meal there at that time was 35cents. The foods at home were fried
ham, backon, sausage, sorgum cane syrup, big biscuits greased with hog lard,
milk with cornbread crumbled in for supper, fried chicken, eggs, gravy,
cabbage, collards, beans, pumpkins, beans fresh and dried, black eved peas
fresh and dried. butter for cooking and spreading on hot biscuits. Fatback was
used in cooking beans, greens etc. The diet was high in fat content. That
worked out ok for a 12 hour day manual labor in the fields. In dad's older days
after he had quit being able to do much work, the fat in the diet and the
nicotine from the cigarettes ruined his health. He had a heart attack in June
1958 while robbing his bees. Honey was another of his favorite foods. He loved
watching the bees. He died Oct 31, 1958 while in the woods doing a favorite
thing, squirrel hunting. He told me he heard the angels singing during his
heart attack. He loved all day singings. Maybe he is enjoying the angels
singing now in the great beyond.



How did daddy get along with momma? They took each other for better or for worse
until death did them part. I think momma may have thought he was worse than than
she thought when she married him. She didn't approve of several things he did.
One thing was the little drinking he did when first married. Another thing was
that he spent money for smoking tobacco when it could have been better spent
for something else. He teased her about her shortcomings. I recollect him
trying to teach her to swim when I was a little boy. He turned her loose in
boxes creek to swim on her own. She nearly drowned. She never went swimming
again with him or anyone else anytime after that. She burned her hand on the
stove. He told her he had sense enough to remove his hand before it burned. At
the time of marriage, she was a Baptist and he was a Church of Christ member.
He tried during his life to make a Church of Christ member out of her. He never
changed her beliefs during her lifetime. She never changed his habits, unless it
was his amount of drinking, during his lifetime. Momma had a very hard life
milking cows, hoeing cotton and corn fields, cooking on a wood stove, doing the
washing by hand with outside wash pots, tubs and washboards. The modern woman
wouldn't put up with what she had to do, not even for a 2 week period. Momma
stuck with daddy till death did them part, and she missed daddy very much after
he was gone. She thought she had a great life together with daddy. The worst she
ever did daddy was to refuse to cook him any beef. She would cook fried chicken
when the preacher was coming for dinner. We would wait and be the last to eat
which was generally the wings. Momma lived 22 years after daddy died. Maybe not
eating beef was good for her. Or, could she have thrived on hardships? Don't
expect to change your husband or wife very much after you have married them.
They will remain the same at best, or maybe even get worse.



My dad got along with the neighbors just fine. Sometimes he talked about what
was wrong with them, but he never actually got into fights with them. When the
neighbor in Mississippi built a levee around dad's place there to keep the
water from getting on the neighbors place, dad decided to sell the land and go
back to Alabama. Dad may not have stood up for his rights as much as he should.
One of my dad's neighbors in Al. was Thomas Dodson. Thomas was a Primitive
Baptist and dad Church of Christ. My dad loved to argue religion with him. They
would tell each other what was wrong with each's religion. Thomas was at dad's
funeral. He told me that daddy was the best neighbor he had ever had. The
community put daddy in as a member of the Kirkland Jr. High school board. I
always wondered why they did that since he had such little education. He seemed
to be liked by most all in the community. Maybe it was because he was a sociable
being.



My dad's last 3 or 4 years were not too pleasant living. He had emphysema from
his smoking. On waking up in the morning he had to cough for quite a while
before he could get a good breath of air. He had been unable to do hard work on
the farm for quite some time. He was renting the farmland to someone else.
Before that he had sold the mules. He and my youngest brother Leroy had gone
together and bought a John Deere tractor. Soon after getting the tractor, Leroy
had been drafted into the army. I think they made a crop or two with the
tractor. I think daddy got someone else to run the tractor while Leroy was in
the army. When Leroy got back he soon married Laeuna Duckworth. Daddy and
Leroy's farming was over. He rented the place from then on till death. During
this time the fat clogged his arteries, health fell off fast until his death.
He did have the pickup truck during his last days. Jean and Leroy were able to
drive him around at that time. Dad learned to drive the pickup himself in his
older days. He didn't get very proficient, I don't think. But he did have
transportation besides his 2 feet and mules.





My dad never believed in making a will for the disposal of his property. His
parents had made a will for their property. It was about 30 years later when
grandma died. The property willed to the other children compared to my dad's
part became much more valuable than what little money daddy had received. The
growth of the pine trees on their property had made it more valuable and dad
got almost nothing compared with what they received. He decided that a fair
will could not be made. I now believe that he must have been right on that. In
our case it worked out all right when my momma wanted to dispose of the farm.
All children were living and momma wanted to get rid of her possessions so she
would be eligible for public housing and medicare. She would have had no social
security if I had not made them pay social security the last two years before
they became 65. So the other children agreed to sell the place to me at what
the county tax assor said was a fair market value at that time. So I landed up
with the old home place. Momma wanted Leroy to have the place, but he had
nothing to pay for it. None of the others had money to pay for it at that time
except Clancy's husband Tom Worsham in Georgia. He was not interested. By the
time I had retired the trees on it had become much more valuable. Then gas was
discovered , I received many times more money from the place than I had
invested in it. I hope my brothers and sisters didn't hate me for buying the
place. They didn't seem to have, and we all get along allright. I am inclined
to agree with my daddy about wills. There is no way that inheritances can be
devided equally. The lawyers fix the wills so there can be disagreements and
lawyers fees collected. Children then believe that some of the heirs got the
best deal. Perhaps I turned out to be too much like my daddy. It is too late to
regret it now at age 79. I hope my children appreciate what little they get of
my estate. I told my banker they would probably spend it all for the latest
autos within 3 years. He suggested it might not take 3 months. I hope they like
me and their brothers and sisters after the final settlement, that is if there
is anything to settle after the greedy medical establishment gets through with
me. this writeup prepared Oct 17,1995