Favorite Photo

If I could choose a favorite photograph of one of my ancestors it would be of my grandfather Daniel Smith with his wife Myrtle. He is wearing pants that are so large that suspenders are needed to keep them on with a hat while holding a pistol which he pointed at my grandmother who is wearing a suit jacket and tie that is a bit small. Maybe they were pretending to be Bonnie and Clyde. I never knew that Grandpa could be funny. 

I think that this picture was taken in the 1930's in Tennessee. 

The Hiwassee Meeting House in Reliance, Tennessee

My cousin, his wife, and I spent the day driving around in the Cherokee National Forest. We came upon The Hiwassee Meeting House. As we drove up to the building there was a woman standing on the porch and she was getting ready to open the door.  I grabbed my camera and ran up the steps.  When I came to the door, I asked the woman if we could take a look inside. She said that we could.  It was our lucky day. 

The Hiwassee Meeting House dates back to 1899 and is located along the bank of the Hiwassee River in Polk County, Reliance, TN.  It is listed on the National Register of Historic Places as part of the Reliance Historic District.

 Here is the text of the historic marker provided by the Southeast Tennessee Tourism Association from their Religious Heritage Trail:

Erected about 1899 through the joint effort of the Hiwassee Union Missionary Baptist Church and the local Masonic Lodge, this two-story, frame structure served as a multi-use community building. The upper floor was for Lodge meetings while the first floor served as the church meeting hall. The first floor was also used as a schoolhouse for a brief time. 

Originally the first floor had a full front porch. The porch was enclosed in 1927 when the church added two small meeting rooms, leaving a narrow entry way into the main hall. The church and the lodge moved to new facilities less than one mile to the east on Highway 30. 

It was founded on October 8, 1848 as Hiwassee Union Baptist, and then in 1859 as Sweetwater Baptist Association. In 1861 the Ocoee Baptist Association was formed, so they asked to be released from Sweetwater's Association and joined the Ocoee Baptist Association. Hiwassee Union Baptist went on the join Eastanallee Baptist Association in 1871 and finally it joined the Polk Baptist Association in 1921.

I have never seen a building held up with stacked rocks like this before. The whole thing was fascinating to me.

A lot of questions went through my mind as I wandered outside of this old building. How in the world does it keep from blowing over in a gust of wind?  What keeps those rocks firmly in place?  On and on the questions rolled through my mind. I will never know the answer.

They have weddings and special occasions here and I believe one can rent a house a little bit down the road from the Meeting House.  Tennessee is an amazing place to visit and I would recommend that you visit at least once in your life.  You will enjoy the all of the spectacular views. 

The Pandemic Influenza outbreak of 1918-1919

A few years ago, I brought home some pictures of my relatives that was in a box which was about to be thrown out by some cousins who didn't know who the people were in them. I rummaged through the box and brought home all the ones with Smith written on them hoping that someone would help me be able to identify our relatives. 

The picture below was broken off on the lower right corner and the upper portion was missing.  On the back it says: John Smith, Grandfather, Sarah Smith, Amanda, Myrtle, Jim, and Guy. It was taken in the early 1900's. They lived in Marion County, Tennessee at the time of this picture. 

This is the original photograph with a little photoshop work.

In 1918 the world was at war.  In mid November the war came to an end. The soldiers were dispatched back home. And, in 1918, one of the largest, if not the largest Influenza Pandemics took the world by storm. Nearly everyone had a story of someone that they knew who succumbed to the influenza epidemic.  Three children (Amanda, Myrtle, and Guy) of my Smith family passed away in succession. Any yet, you learn almost nothing about the influenza epidemic in school. 

Obituaries of Marion County, Tennessee 1895-1920  (Harris)

There were claims that as many as 50,000 people lost their lives, more than the casualties of WWI. The bubonic plague (black death) killed an estimated 62 million Europeans from 1347-1350. The influenza outbreak moved in swiftly and globally in a short amount of time. It is believed that the returning sailors to Boston was the entering point for this killer of humanity into the United States.  

Image: courtesy of the National Museum of Health and Medicine

As one in four Americans contracted the flu, almost all public gatherings had to be cancelled including church services, schools, and theaters to name a few until the flu ran its course. 

Photo from Wikimedia Commons

So, when you start to feel like you are coming down with the flu or a cold. Stay home, rest, and drink plenty of fluids.  I sure would hate to see this kind of thing happen again. 

Sources: 

Tennessee Magazine story by Bill Carey 2014 
Tennessee Encyclopedia story by Allen R. Coggins 

Ketner's Mill, Whitwell, Tennessee

I think that is was love at first sight for me when we drove up the road trying to find an old mill that we had heard of.  The dam was built on the Sequatchie River in Whitwell, Tennessee by early settlers to the area. 

In 1824, three orphans, David, George, and Elizabeth Ketner arrived in Sequatchie Valley, Tennessee. 

Ketner's Mill is named after David's son Alexander, who built the mill in 1868 and it ran fairly steady until 1992 when the mill closed its doors.  

The site is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. 

The mill is surrounded by small mountains and an abundance of trees. On the third weekend in October a fair is held at Ketner's Mill and people gather together to buy and sell their arts and crafts.  This year the country arts fair will take place October 21-22.  

But if you need to get away for a couple of hours before then, bring yourself a chair, sit down, and listen to the sound of the running water.  I would like to be there right now. 

The address is 658 Ketner Mill Lane, Whitwell, Tennessee. 

Silverdale Confederate Cemetery, Chattanooga, Tennessee

While visiting Chattanooga last weekend my cousin and stumbled upon a cemetery that I had never heard of before. 

It is located at 7714 Lee Highway next to McKay's Books, which was our intended destination.  As we flew down the street my cousin saw the Confederate Cemetery first and I was just as thrilled as she was to explore it. This was our first time seeing a cemetery like this. 

After loading the car with at least 50 books and DVD's we headed back down the street.  We turned onto the narrow driveway and hoped that no one else was coming back down. 

There are 155 unknown soldiers who are buried in this small graveyard.  Can you imagine that many men who have not been returned to their families? Relatives not knowing where their husband, son, or nephew is buried.  This was disturbing to me. 

Once inside there was only a few markers.  Initially the soldiers had wooden markers with name, rank, and division but they decayed over time. There were no records of the men who were buried there.  The cemetery is surrounded by a stone fence with a large gate in the front. 

From what I understand the soldiers fought in the Battle of Perryville and were brought back to Chattanooga to recover. 

All of the burials took place between July-December of 1862. Below is an excerpt from Thunder Creek Harley Davidson web site that gives a brief synopsis of the cemetery. 

General Braxton Bragg succeeded General Beauregard as commander of the Army of Mississippi shortly after the Battle of Shiloh and on July 21, 1862 ordered 27,816 men to Chattanooga, Tennessee in preparation for his famed Kentucky campaign. These men had been in camps in northern Mississippi where poor water, shallow wells, mosquitoes and dysentery had made many of them sick. The number of troops made it necessary for most of them to be located outside of town. 

The men buried at Silverdale are from General Withers’ division hospital. His division consisted of men from Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, Mississippi, and South Carolina. The hospital was housed in 100 tents. It remained at Tyner’s station and in control of Withers’ division until after it was moved to Cleveland, Tennessee in December due to the weather becoming too cold for the men to remain in tents.

 If you like history, you will find this off the beaten path cemetery a fascinating place.  I would like to go back again to sit down and listen for the voices of the men lying beneath my feet.  Maybe they have something to say if only someone would listen. 

Panther Creek State Park Tennessee

Last August I went to Morristown, Tennessee for a mini vacation. While there I visited the Panther Creek State Park.  It was such a lovely place. The peaceful effects of water and the mountains in the distance was heavenly.  I want to go on anther vacation to such a place. One day I may never return to the cornfields. 

In Search of my Southern Smith Connection

Downtown Morristown

My nephew and I drove for hours to reach a small city in Northeast Tennessee called Morristown located in the county of Hamblen. I was hoping to find where my great-great grandfather was buried in 1906 and any other information that I could find. His name was Pleasant Thomas Smith, a Civil War vet. 

Downtown Morristown

We traveled up and down hilly streets to reach the only library in town. I carried my two large binders inside that contained all of the information that I have on the Smiths. The library was small, so very small.  I asked if they had any newspapers on the microfiche from 1884 and beyond. There was some juicy information on a relative that involved a barn burning, jail, and a divorce that I wanted more information on. They placed me at a table in front of a reader and I began my search.  I looked through every date that I could muster but didn't come up with anything. It was then that one of the librarians suggested that I go to the archives at the courthouse.  I gathered my things and off we went. 

Morristown, upper level

The archives were located in the basement, which meant that I had to carry my binders down a flight of stairs and I was not looking forward to the descent. Once inside, I was greeted by two elderly women who were ready to research.  I was pelted with questions on dates, names, and locations. After a little while it was suggested that I go to the next county for research because we couldn't find anything on my ancestors.  Even though my great-great grandfather married his second wife in Hamblen County, they lived in Jefferson County before the county boundary changed. 

Morristown upper level with my nephew

Instead of going to Jefferson County that day we walked around downtown Morristown. Main Street was lined with flags and hanging flowers. There is an upper level with shops all along the top.  I have never seen anything like this before and I thought it was awesome. 

The next day we headed to Jefferson County to a little city called Dandridge (the second oldest city in Tennessee, Jonesboro is the first). I was here once before many years ago. There was a country restaurant in the heart of the city was all that I remembered. Today it is out of business. I did visit an old plantation house that was on a back road somewhere but was not feeling that adventurous on this trip. We repeated our steps from the previous day. But this time was more productive.

Dandridge

I met a man who has been researching the Smith line from the county and he was due to arrive early in the afternoon. Timing was perfect in this instance. His name was Ray, a soft spoken southerner with gray hair, smiling eyes, and a firm handshake ( I always judge a man's character based on his handshake). A retired professor who loves genealogy is someone that I was looking for. There was a large folder in the archives for the Smith's. I looked through the folder and found land records that I hadn't seen before. I was thrilled. At least I was going home with more than one piece of paper. We exchanged phone numbers and email addresses.    

Barn in New Market, Tennessee

Sadly, Tennessee didn't begin recording deaths until 1914. I came home with some information that I didn't have before with hopes of eventually finding my great-great grandfathers grave.  I am determined to find him and say that I haven't forgotten you or your life.  Pleasant deserves at least that much from me. 

Why I like the color green

Do you remember being asked what your favorite color was when you were a child?  The youngster would quickly tell you the color that is the most appealing to them.  When asked why, the child wasn't articulate enough to expound their reasoning for liking the color. I was one of those children. In my heart I knew that I liked the color but to explain the attraction was beyond my limited vocabulary.  Green and all of its shades have spoken to me for as long as I can remember. 

One day a friend and I went to the Edwin Warner National Park in Nashville, Tennessee for a hike. It was April and the leaves had begun slowly to emerge from their winter cocoon.  

I looked all around me and green was everywhere. As we walked the narrow path my eyes darted up and down trying to take in the serenity that I felt. No noise was heard but the rustle of the leaves and the shuffle of our feet on the path. 

The wind began to blow in my ear, whispering.  "This is for you," The voice whistled in a low hum. 

I continued to try and take in the beauty that I saw. And if I could, I would have liked to put it in my pocket and save it for a grey winter day when my spirit was low.  This is what green means to me and why I like the color. Do you have a favorite color? 

Batch Blues Photography

I have finally done it. The Facebook page for Batch Blues Photography is up and running finally.  Things will be slow until the beginning of the year with me because I am working 50 hours a week and still try to maintain some kind of normalcy to my life.  Most days I come home and get ready for bed only to repeat the same thing again the next day.

As for cooking, well, I do most of that on the weekends along with all the other things that I enjoy the most.  I still want to post recipes as well as stories. Those times I spent in the kitchen cooking tagines and couscous were the best that I have ever experienced. It is thrilling to try new recipes along with spices that I never knew existed. I grew to love Moroccan cuisine, maybe even more so than American food.

When I started my other blog, Until Morocco, that is when the photography bug bit me. Ever since then I was hooked.  I lived and breathed photography. I have taken a few classes and a zillion pictures in the interim. There is so much to learn and so many ways to make photographic art. Wish me luck in this new phase of my life.  Trust me, I am very excited about it.  

This picture was taken in Roann, Indiana a couple of weeks ago.  I like the country feel when I travel outside of town and breathe in the fresh air. This is living at its best, quiet and simple, away from the noise of the city. What is of most interest is the old buildings, especially the barns.

When I was a child we would take our annual trip to the land of my father, Tennessee.  I love the rusty tin roofs on the run down log cabins and the old red barns with See Rock City written on the side or the roof. Those things remind me of my birthplace (Tennessee) which make my heart fill up with warm memories. So, forgive me if I become a little barn happy with my postings. I'm just thinking about Tennessee.    

My Southern Side and Elizabeth LaPrelle

I am Southern even though I live in the north. We moved away from Tennessee for the last time in early 70's.  Even though I lived a short time in the state of my birth it calls me from time to time.  It must be in my DNA somewhere.  Movies like Song Catcher and O Brother where are thou? stir up my southern side and tries to entice me to move back "home". I think about it often, very often.  But I would miss my brother and sister and I did when I tried to break away at the turn of the century. And yet it still calls me from the distance. 

Lately, I have been listening to old Southern ballads, only to find that they are really English ballads. I have the CD Song Catcher and have memorized nearly all of the songs. Two of my favorites from the CD are Pretty Saro sung by Iris DeMent and All my tears sung by Julie Miller. Which leads me to a singer by the name of Elizabeth LaPrelle.  She sings in the old Southern style that I love.  I discovered her on Youtube and have listened to her belt out ballads that came from the British Isles many, many years ago.  If you like country music then you will probably like this singer.    

Tennessee Cornbread Salad

I love cornbread, especially the way my mother made it.  It was somewhat thin and had the crispiest crust imagineble. When she would not be looking, I would break off a piece of the crust and quickly eat it, savoring every bite.  Some people put sugar in theirs, others put in cracklins, but I like mine just like Mom's. I have an electric oven and find it hard to duplicate the crust.  So, all I can do is remember how it is supposed to be. 

When I lived in Tennessee in 2001, I tasted the most delicious cornbread salad that one of my co-workers made.  I had never heard of making a salad with cornbread until then.  On a whim, I made it this evening.  I am in heaven.  I brought two of my neighbors a bowl and a co-worker will get a taste tomorrow.  I ate more than my fair share this evening.  No wonder I have a problem keeping my weight down. I make my own cornbread, so no box stuff for this recipe.

Ingredients for Cornbread:

1 cup self rising flour
1 cup self rising cornmeal mix
1/3 cup vegetable oil or shortening
1 egg
2/3 - 1 cup of milk

Preheat oven to 450 degrees F.  In a large skillet,  melt the shortening over medium heat.  Mix the rest of the ingredients and then add the melted shortening.  Mix well.  I leave about 1-2 tbs of oil in the bottom of the skillet to help crisp up the crust.  Place in the oven and bake until the bread is brown on both the top and bottom, about 20-30 minutes.  Once done, set aside to cool.

Ingredients for Salad:

2-3 roma tomatoes or your favorite brand of tomato, chopped
1 green pepper, seeded and chopped
1/2 large onion, chopped, about a cup
1 lb of bacon, I used turkey bacon instead
2-3 cups of mayonaise
2-3 heaping soup spoons of sweet pickle relish
1/4 cup of pickle juice or to taste
black pepper to taste.

In a large skillet cook the bacon over medium heat until crispy.  Drain on paper towels.  When cool, crumble the bacon into small pieces.

In a large bowl, add the tomatoes, pepper, onion, bacon and 3/4 of the cornbread.  Add the mayonaise, pickle relish and pickle juice.  Toss lightly.  I used about 2 cups of mayonaise, but if that is too dry for your taste add more.  Chill for a couple of hours and then serve.  If you are anything like me, I couldn't wait but ate it right away.  Enjoy!

Polly the Pyromaniac

“Run”, Polly shouted as she ran past me.  Out of the corner of my eye I could see an unnatural glow coming from the bottom of the lane.  When I turned to look, I noticed that the dried brush we passed earlier was on fire.  A truck drove by while we were running up the hill and Polly turned herself around so that the driver couldn’t see her face, while I remained fully exposed.  “I set the brush on fire in those people’s yard”, she said, “They get on my nerves by not cleaning it up, so, I thought that I would help them out.”  I was angry that she would put me in this kind of situation. “If you are going to set something on fire, then do it with someone who is not too fat to run up the hill”, I breathlessly shouted. “Besides, arson is a crime and I don’t want to go to jail while on vacation.”

 In the 1990’s, I worked at a van lines.  My position at the time was an Agent Coordinator for the Household Division. In short, I was a glorified data entry clerk who called agents from all over the country to pick up their customers household goods. Then bring the shipments back to the warehouse until the van lines was able to find a driver. I was assigned to the southern agents at the time that I got to know Polly.   She was very friendly on the phone and we chatted about all kinds of things after the official business part of the phone call was complete. Polly gave estimates for potential customers.  Daily, Polly would make her way from home to home providing the customer with a cost for moving their belongings from one state to another. Polly invited me to Knoxville, Tennessee for a visit.  I had never been to the city and was anxious to see it.  I accepted her invitation and made plans to visit. 

 It was April of 1999 when I arrived in Knoxville. The apple blossom trees were in bloom when I arrived.  Their tiny white flowers decorated the trees which lined each side of the streets downtown.  The air was still cool in the morning, but warmed up greatly towards mid-day so much so that we didn’t have to wear jackets. Polly’s small family lived in a large brick house located in the middle of a small forest like area.  The driveway was gravel and it winded its way down to the front of the house. Being surrounded by greenery was enchanting for me. Their little forest was perfectly manicured with lots of flowers and bushes scattered throughout the property.  The house was decorated in a comfortable style.  The living room was beige with green ivy vining its way around the top of the walls. From the living room window there was a picturesque view of the Appalachian Mountains. Even though it was still too early for the leaves of the trees to shoot forth, the mountains were still beautiful in their barrenness, each one a copy of the next. Situated in the middle of the room were a purple leather sofa and a matching chair.  The kitchen was large and would be considered a cooks dream, but rendered unusable because all of the cabinets had been torn out and there were no appliances either. New cabinets were ordered months before and still had not been built. Our meals were taken outside, which was okay with me.   The final room was the place where I was to sleep.  Polly’s daughter willingly gave up her bed so that I would have a place to myself. The walls were navy blue with stars glued to the ceiling, which glowed in the dark.  The light from the stars kept me awake that night for I am used to sleeping in a completely dark room.

 Groggily, I woke up early the next morning.  Polly and I went over to the office so that she could get her itinerary for the day.  She introduced me to her co-workers and then we headed out to meet her first customer.  I was excited to job shadow someone.  At each appointment, I was introduced as someone from corporate, which I was, and I silently followed while Polly did her job.  After about the third appointment of the day, the wind began to blow very hard.  Tumbleweeds blew across the street in front of us as we drove to the next appointment. This was the first time I had seen tumbleweed, and didn’t know that the weed existed in this area of the country.  Polly stopped the car, pulled some matches from her purse, and tried to set one of the weeds on fire.  Luckily, the gale was too strong and the fire blew out each time she tried to light a match. After about three tries she gave up. I was shocked that she would attempt to do something like that in front of me, since this is the first time that we have met.  I kept silent as I watched her attempt to do a very foolish act.  

For lunch, we drove to a small country city called Dandridge. Dandridge is the oldest city in the state of Tennessee. Many of my relatives came through there as they made their way further down south. I was thrilled to see this quaint little place.  Polly wanted to check on how the packing was going on a job for which she gave an estimate.  We stopped at a little café.  As we walked inside, I wondered what it would be like to live in a small city where everyone knew everyone else.  I saw an elderly couple sitting at a table chatting with each other as they had for 40 years or more.  The waitress hurriedly came to our table and took our order.  As I looked around, I saw old men dressed in overalls and the women were well coiffed with lots of makeup. I felt at home here.  These were my people.

After lunch, we drove to an old mansion located in a secluded part of the city. I cannot remember the color of the house now. But I do remember that it had huge white pillars in the front and a massive front door. It was a grand place that Scarlet O’Hara wouldn’t hesitate to reside in with or without Rhett Butler.  The circle drive was littered with vans, furniture and people.  We went in the back door and more people were inside.  Boxes were everywhere the eye could see. I admired the vastness of the rooms and the antique furniture as I wandered around the house; Dreamily, I imagined myself living in such a magnificent house. The master bedroom on the second floor had a four-poster bed.  All of my life I wanted one. The packers were still in the room when we came to check on them.  Apparently, the owner left a video in the VCR.  It was porn.  Polly wanted to watch a bit of the video, but I stepped out of the room as they turned on the video player. Afterwards, we went back to Polly’s house to pick up her daughter and husband, and then out for dinner. 

We ate at an Italian place for dinner.  I had rolls stuffed with pepperoni and cheese.  They were delicious. We ate until we were full. Once home, Polly and I decided to go for a walk.  It was a nice evening and the walk would do us some good. We wandered all over the neighborhood. Our journey took us up and down the small hills. We gazed at the stars in the sky, taking in the beauty of the place, at least I did.  While walking we went past a house that had dried brush at the edge of the yard near the street.  Polly made a comment that the dried branches had been in the yard for a long time. She went on to say that she called the city on the property owners several times but nothing was done.  This time Polly took matters into her own hands and set fire to the brush.   We watched from the top of the hill as the fire fighters put out the flaming branches.  I told myself that I was leaving in the morning.  This is too much drama for me.  The next day, I packed my things and said goodbye, never intending to visit again.  What a story I had for my co-workers when I returned on Monday.

A few weeks later, Polly called in to the van lines.  She apologized for her behavior.  Her husband told her that the both of us could have went to jail for what she did. But by this time it was too late for apologies.  She made a lasting first impression on me that I didn’t want to revisit ever again, even if it was a funny story to tell.

So, my life begins...

So, my life begins. In a small country town, where the inhabitants live nestled between the Tennessee River and several mountain ranges, I was born.  The city is called Jasper and the state is Tennessee.  It is the gateway to the beautiful Sequatchie Valley.  In the year of 1960, my life began.  It was a hot summer day.  My mother’s labor was long and arduous.  But it was nothing compared to the gift my mother was about to receive.   A year and three months later my brother Randall was born. Later in my life, my mother told me that ever since she could remember she always wanted children.

My mother and father were poor growing up.  They ran off to get married when my mom was sixteen and my dad was twenty.  They were children really.  What does one really know about life at such a young age? Both of my parents lost their mothers when they were young children.  They lived with various relatives for a short time until the grieving parent could get a handle on things.  Losing a mother can be a tragic thing for a child.  The rest of their lives they search for a mother’s love.  It’s impossible to replace it with any other kind of love.  However, they tried to find it in each other. 

Tennessee was magical to me.  I remember the smell of the air in the morning.  It was pure, like crystal clear spring water.  The mountains were endless with millions of trees from top to bottom.  Often, I would gaze at the loveliness which surrounded me.  In the back yard, there was a very large honey suckle bush.  I would pull out the stem and lick it, tasting the sweet nectar of the flower while trying to avoid the bees.  In the evening, the lights would flicker like candles on a cake from the various homes scattered across the mountain range.  Oh these were the days of innocence when nothing mattered but candy and toys to a small girl.   

My father tried many ways to make a living for his young family.  In those days, there were a lot of shops where one could buy, sell, or trade items.  They were along side of a road or a highway or even in remote areas.  My father had a shop called, Charlie’s Trading Post.  I remember looking at all of the wonderful items that he would have for sale.  There were leather billfolds, knick knacks, toys, socks, pillows, and a myriad of other items.  I had my eye on a red plastic doctor bag.  The bags were filled with everything that a doctor would need while looking at a patient. I wanted one in the worst way.  I would pick one up, open and close the bag, play with it for a while, then put it back.   Eventually, my brother and I were each given one and we played with them until they fell apart.  Unfortunately, this shop didn’t flourish and my father had to go and find a job at a factory. 

My small family moved back and forth between Tennessee and Indiana from 1963-1968. My father had a hard time finding a stable job.  So, we moved between the states several times.  I went to many schools during that period.  My first recollection of going to school for the first time was in Tennessee.  It was called East Lake Elementary School.  To a five year old, the building was huge but in reality it was a small neighborhood school. It has since been torn down. I remember my kindergarten teacher who had very large upper arms that moved like a flap on a vehicle while travelling at a great speed. Her arms would jiggle as she moved them back and forth.  I cannot remember her name though, just her arms.  In her class, I learned how to tie a shoe, write my name, and memorized the alphabet.  Learning is hard work and I told my mother that often. 

Life was not all joy at school though.  Well, at least it was not joyful one day.  My mother was late coming to get me.  I never walked home by myself.  I waited and waited.   As I looked around, I realized that there wasn’t anyone else there with me. All of the children were gone.   I felt abandoned. The longer I waited the more upset I became. Then, I cried. A teacher felt pity for me and stayed with me until my mother finally arrived.   Once I saw mom, I was relieved and ran into her arms.

I am the third from the left in the front row

While living in Chattanooga in 1967, there was an Easter egg hunt at the park a few blocks from our apartment. The neighborhood children along with their parents got together and we searched the park for the grand prize of a golden egg.  At that time, we lived in a duplex and my Aunt Linda with her husband Leonard and daughter Sherrie lived beside us.  Sherrie is four years younger than I am.  I remember that the morning dew had just lifted and the grass was still wet, but no one cared.  Like the rest of the children, I was eager to find Easter eggs.  After searching for a while, I found the golden egg.  I was thrilled beyond my wildest childhood dreams.  I ran to my mother and showed her what I had found.  Without blinking an eye, my mother told me to give the egg to my cousin because she was so small and couldn’t go out and find the prized egg on her own.  I was devastated.  Why did I have to give Sherrie the prized egg?  It was mine and I found it by myself.  Unwillingly, I gave my cousin the egg.  I don’t remember what was on the inside of that golden egg, but I still remember how I felt to this day.  This is not the only time in my life that I had to give away something to another because “they” were small and needed it more than I did.  I guess my mother wanted to impress her sister. 

In 1968, we moved back to Fort Wayne for the last time.  My father had a hard time finding work yet again.  This time we had to move into government housing.  Not only did we need assistance with housing but surviving in general.  My father, being a proud man, tried very hard to find a job.   In about a year’s time, he found a job at Fruehauf Corporation as a spray painter and stayed with that company until he passed away.  In February of 1970, my parents bought their first house on Elm Street. The day that we moved in, the temperature was 10 degrees below zero.  We had a hard time getting the furnace going, but once we did, it was wonderful and the house was large inside. I had my own room finally. It wasn’t a dream house by no means, but it meant that we were going to stay put for a while, which was okay with me.