A great deal has been made of seventh sons of seventh sons, but if it is possible to make a case for the females of the species, perhaps we can give special place to the first daughter of the first daughter. That is what I am. I am Mary Frances Hollifield Smith, I am the first born child of Mary Louise Hill Hollifield. Mother was the eldest of her ten siblings, and I was the eldest of my two surviving siblings. We were female, and maybe felt a little superior to later additions of sons to the family.

It was a fact of my life that I was as old as some of my uncles, and older than my Uncle Don who was the "baby" of the Hill family. Growing up in such surroundings, and being the oldest grandchild of Fred and Minnie Hill, puts me in the position to remember many of the stories of the family. During my lifetime, I have always been the keeper of the stories, because remembering them has always been both an easy task and an enjoyable one. Remembering details, events and dates have always come as a natural gift for me.

I love to tell the family stories, because telling involves talking. I have little or no interest in writing my stories on paper, even though I would love for you to hear and know the stories of my past, which involve the day- to- day lives of our parents and grandparents. So a deal was struck with my brother Raymond. He would sit at a keyboard and record the stories as I told them. This work will not be so much an autobiographical work of Frances Smith, but will be a treasured collection of stories involving many people from my youth – both family members and various friends.

Every day stories from our collective pasts are lost. Once they are gone, they can never be recaptured, and will be lost from our family history. It is a sad fact that too many stories have already been lost. It has not been easy for me to realize that I have a precious gift for the family that should and must be shared. These stories which have been for so many years just events in my life, involving ordinary events and extraordinary people are offered here so that you may share in the rich heritage we share as part of an American family living in the rural sections of Rutherford County, North Carolina.

No attempt has been made to whitewash the stories, or to make saints of folk who may have had feet of clay. However, every care has been taken to convey my stories with love of those about whom the stories center. As the announcer said every week on "The Lone Ranger," – return with me to those thrilling days of yesteryear. And so, the saga begins……

I don’t remember being born, but I do remember hearing the story of my birth. Dr. Logan, who delivered half of the babies in Ruthfordton, did the delivery. I weighed in at 11.3/4 pounds. The doctor had to use forceps, and Mother said that my head was bruised. When I was three months old she dropped me on my head, and people have the nerve to ask what’s wrong with me. I learned to walk while living at the Callahan house. Mother and Polly would toss a red cap across the room from one to another and I would try to get it. That was at 8 months of age. At 10 months I ran away from home, across Callahan Street, through Addie Wilkie’s yard to Aunt Maybelle’s. I don’t remember the order; which came first - West Street or Edwards Streets. I can remember living on both, on West Street living behind the Young’s and close to the Parker’s. The Parker house is still standing, but the Young house is gone. I’ve got pictures of a birthday party there. Jimmy Young and I are crying. One wanted to eat the birthday cake, and one wanted to eat the birthday party, but I don’t remember which was which.

One Sunday after church we went home with Corrine and Oscar Bridges. Mother said every time I touched a toy, Wayne would have a temper tantrum and fall on the floor kicking and screaming. He didn’t want me touching his toys. We got home that afternoon and I asked for a drink. I finished my water and set the glass in the floor. Mother said, "Mary Frances put the glass on the ice box," and I just looked at her. The second time she told me I picked up the glass, set it on the icebox, and had my own temper tantrum on the floor. She then gave me a sound spanking. In hearing Mother tell the story, I never pitched but one fit in my life. Then she said no, I pitched two fits - my first and last combined.

As a child I never liked milk. I would go to Grandpa’s and stay for some days and sit on the bench and drink milk with the best of them. One night, Mother and Daddy came in while we were eating and saw me drinking. I left the table because I didn’t want Mother to catch me drinking milk. I had many spankings in my lifetime, but that night I should have had one for not finishing the meal and drinking my milk

Nellie, my collie, was my playmate and I shared everything with her. Mother would give me a bowl of something to eat, and I would take a bite and give Nellie a bite. Mother would take the spoon away and give me a clean spoon, and the same thing would happen again. Josephine Parker was several years older than I was, and I guess she had to be the boss of the little one. Sometimes she wouldn’t give me things I wanted. Nellie, lying right beside me, would growl and Josephine would give me anything she had.

Nellie was very protective of me. After we moved to Edwards Street, in order to give me a spanking, Mother had to take time to lock the screen, shut the big door, and take me to the furthermost part of the house, and Nellie would still try to break in. After all of that work, she should have lost the interest in spanking me. The day Nellie died was a rainy day. She had birthed a litter of pups and had gotten pneumonia. I was sick in bed and Mother came and got into bed with me, and we both cried our hearts out. All of the puppies died also.

I remember in the big house what was later the dinning room was once a bedroom, with at least two double beds. Grandpa would take turns rocking Yates, Don and me to sleep. Don could pretend to be asleep, and Grandpa would put him to bed, cover him up, and say, "This one is gone for the night." Don would never crack a smile. Both Yates and I would giggle before we got to the bed. We were never good at playing possum.

Yates, Don and I always loved to sit on the porch in the rain. Grandma thought that we should not be out because of the thunder and lightening. One day, it was raining, and we were sitting out on the porch, and having a merry time. She caught us, and yelled at us to "Get in the house." As I walked in, she swatted me one time and I cried. Yates was next. She swatted him one time and he cried. Don came in, she swatted him, and he laughed. Wrong thing to do, because he got a good spanking. We went into the front room, and he sat down in one of the little chairs, he cried for a while, then he would think about it, get tickled, and laughed for a while. So he spent 30 minutes or so alternating between laughing and crying.

Once I went to Grandpa’s, and Bea, Yates, Don, Charles and Sue were going down to James’ to pick green beans. I wanted to go, but Bea said that if I went I would have to work, because the others were going to work. I set my bucket down and began picking beans. Bea got to the end of the row, and said, "Come on kids, time to go home." I looked back and my bucket was half way down the row, and I didn’t want to go back and pick it up. I said "Bucket, come here.’ Of course, it didn’t. I stomped my foot and said "Bucket, I said come here." Bea laughed and said "Mary Frances, you might as well go pick up that bucket, it is not going to come to you."

When Grandpa sold Rawleigh Products Yates, Don and I would play Rawleigh dealer. We would get in his car and pretend to drive. He had made a wooden tray to carry his products in, and placed it in the rear window of his two-seat car. One day we decided it might be a good idea to sample some of the products. We opened a bottle of little pink, rectangle pills. I ate one, and one of the boys ate one. They were pretty good tasting pills. So, we each had another. Later that afternoon, we passed each other coming and going to the outhouse. Grandma and Mother could not figure out what was wrong with us, and the one who didn’t eat any pills finally told on us. You can figure out for yourselves what those pink pills were for. Between a stern lecture by Grandpa and our trips to the outhouse, we never sampled Rawleigh products again.

I remember one time when Grandpa was telling what pranks he and his brothers would do on Halloween; such things as turning over outhouses, putting rocking chairs in trees, and buggies on top of barns. I said to him, "Grandpa, if Yates, Charles, Don and I did half of what you did, you would kill us." He chucked, as only Grandpa could, and said, "Yes, you’re probably right."

While W.R. Hill was principal of the elementary school there were many times when he would call my third grade teacher down to the office. All the students giggled behind their hands because we thought there was some romantic reason for the frequent summons. It was not long afterwards when Miss Theresa Taylor became Mrs. Ross Hill. He continued as the only principal we ever knew, and she continued to teach for many years.

When the fair came to town, school would let out for half a day. Grandma and Grandpa would be ready in the truck and come to the Elementary School and pick up Yates, Don and me. Then we would go to Central High School to get Sue and Charles. We would go to the Fairgrounds and spend all afternoon seeing the exhibits, the midway and riding the rides. When Mother and Daddy got off work, they would come to the Fairgrounds. We would meet at the truck, and have a picnic supper that Grandma had brought – fried chicken and the whole nine yards. Then we would go back to the Midway, which was now more fun with the lights on, and stay until after the grandstand acts, and then go home. One year there was a sideshow, which we didn’t pay to enter, which had a Wild Woman. The barker cried, "Come see the wild women. She hasn’t had a bath in 20 years." We got home late that night and were very tired, and knew we had to get up early the next morning for school. Grandpa began doing a barker impersonation, which he did over and over. "Oh, come and see the wild women, she hasn’t had a bath in 20 years." Grandma became put out with him and finally said "Oh, dear Lord, Fred, I do wish you would shut up."

When it came time for any gifts to be given, Grandma would ask Grandpa "Fred, what did you get me?" He would tell her that he had hidden it in the barn, the attic, or somewhere in the house. Grandma would always go there to try to find it. It was never where he told her it was hidden but she always checked out his confessed hiding spot.

There was an Easter Sunday when we had a big egg hunt planned after church. We got up that morning to eight inches of snow. I don’t know if the cars wouldn’t start or not, but Grandpa and I walked to church. Ours were the only footprints on the road, and we were the only people at the church. But Grandpa said, "As long as we’re here, we’re going to ring the church bell." He rang the bell and we turned around and walked home. Needless to say, the Easter services and the egg hunt were called off.

As a small child attending church at Piedmont, nothing scared me any more than the old folk when they got in the spirit and begin to shout. I remember Mrs. John Hodge, the wife of the preacher, running up and down the aisles of the old church, waving her arms and shouting to the top of her voice.

There was one Sunday that I cannot forget. The details are not clear in my mind, but the impression of the day has stuck with me. It was the Sunday when the membership of Piedmont Church split. I can remember raised voices, and couldn’t believe that adults would act that way in church. Some of our family and many of our family friends left the church that day in a great deal of anger.

The first death and funeral I remember at Piedmont was David Hill, the son of Modine and Bill Hill. I was ten years old at that time, and David was an infant. Doris Griswold, who was a cousin of David and a close friend of mine, and I had tended to him at various church functions, and enjoyed playing with him. This was the first funeral I remembered with such a small casket. It seemed so sad to me that death would come to someone so young. Doris and I were flower girls for the funeral, and it was our responsibility to carry the flowers from the church to the cemetery. Doris carried a wreath and a basket of flowers, and could put down the basket to wipe her eyes. I had two wreaths and could only let the tears flow as I had my hands full.

Uncle John Owens worked for the Rutherford County News Office. I can remember spending the night with Doris and our walking out to see Uncle John and Aunt Ila. Aunt Ila always had sugar cookies made, and Uncle John gave us little notepads that he made from left over papers from the newspaper.

Grandpa would hire kids from New Hope to work in his fields. Mother, Ellen, and Beatrice would cook dinner, and the kids would eat at the house. What was then the dining room and later became the back porch had a long table with a bench at the backside and chairs around the other sides of the table. Over in the corner was a small table where the glasses and milk to be served were set. Grandma, not feeling well, was upstairs lying down. The kids came in to eat and there was a lot of talking. Grandma would holler "Get quiet down there, you’re making too much noise." The little black kids heard this voice but did not know who it was. The three sisters told them that it was a "haint." They pointed to their brother Don who was about 5 years old and white headed, and said "This is our uncle, the haint scared him when he was a little boy, and he never grew anymore." The kids were getting more frightened by the minute, and unintentionally, Martin finished it off. When he and the boys came in from the field, they went to the barn to feed the horses, and when he came to the house, he would pick up a hoe and drag the handle down the clapboards of the house. Well, this day when he did it, the little black kids began to scream and holler, and crawled under the table with the glasses of milk. Their shaking was making the table dance. They ran out of the dining room, through the hall, and out the front door as fast as they could go. They would never work for Grandpa again.

Aunt Dora was visiting one time, and Grandpa was out on his Rawleigh route, and Yates, Charles, Don, Sue and myself were in the field hoeing corn. Really, we were spending more time thinking of what we were going to say at dinner to get Aunt Dora upset. We knew that if we could use what seemed like foul language, she would really get angry, and we could point out that the language was really innocent. So, all morning we practiced and rehearsed our lines. Charles was going to say "When I get through this hoeing, I’m going to Heaven and sit on a log by God." Now, we knew that seemed like cursing, but wasn’t really. We knew that would get Aunt Dora going. I don’t remember the other things we were going to say, but when we got home at dinner time Grandpa was home for dinner, and all of our morning’s work was wasted, because we didn’t dare use any of it in his presence.

On Sundays after church we would gather at someone’s house; sometimes at Grandma and Grandpa’s, or sometimes at Uncle John and Aunt Katie’s. At Grandpa’s there would be at least two table sittings, which meant that we kids had to wait for the last one. After dinner, the guys such as Daddy, Martin, Reid, Leo, Elbert, and Charles, would go to the pasture across from the barn and play softball. Yates, Don and I used to laugh that those "old men" who thought they could play ball. In reality those "old men" were in their late teens to mid-twenties. So, they were not so old after all.

Yates, Don and I would ride in the back of Grandpa’s truck. Don didn’t travel mountain curves well, and would get sick. Yates and I would get on either side and hold the tailgate open while Don threw up as we traveled. We went to Shumont Mountain, a mountain in Rutherford County where you could see poles sticking up out of the ground. About half way up the mountain, there was a flat area where there was a lake, a diving board, boats, and paddleboats. One Sunday, we decided to go for a boat ride, and in the middle of the lake we found out that we had a leaky boat. Water was not coming in fast, but it was coming in fast enough to scare 10 year olds. Mother and Grandma were having a fit, calling for help so that those young ones would not drown. Fortunately someone must have been around and saved us from a moist death.

In the same area they had built a Ferris wheel with four seats. If the weight were evenly distributed, after someone pushed and got you going, the momentum would keep the Ferris Wheel going. Once I had a boil on my backside, and had taken a pillow to sit on. People were on the Ferris wheel. Duck was in one seat by herself, and she wasn’t heavy enough to keep it going over, so they decided that my added weight with hers would be about right. They stopped, and I ran, jumped, and sat down on my boil, and saw stars. That night after I we got home, Mother took the white lining of an eggshell, and put it over the boil. The next morning the core of the boil was drawn out, and I had great relief.

I used to catch the school bus down at Aunt Annie’s, and she always seemed to me to be a rather standoffish person. We were having a dinner; one Home EC class was giving a dinner for another class. Elizabeth Hutchins and I were going, and her uncle took us and brought us back. I met them at Aunt Annie’s. On the way home, we had a storm with thunder and lightening, and raining cats and dogs. Aunt Annie wanted me to spend the night, but that was before the telephones came to our community, and I knew that Mother would be worried if I didn’t come home. So I put on one of Elbert’s CCC raincoats, pulled off my shoes, and walked across the field within touch of a barbed wire fence. I would take one step forward, and then slide back two. Finally I got home, and Mother said I was crazy for not spending the night with Aunt Annie.

After school the bus stopped at Grandpa’s and it was raining, Sue and I walked home, and got our shoes muddy. Mother and Grandma fussed because we hadn’t taken them off. It happened that the next time we had rain was in November, so Sue and I pulled off our shoes. We got home and Grandma and Mother fussed because it was winter, and they were sure we would be sick. Sue and I just looked at each other, and figured that there was no way to win.

Martin always liked to tease me, and at age twelve I wore a size 7 1/2 shoe. He told me that I would have been tall if they hadn’t turned so much down for foot. I told him that his foot was big also, and he said that he only wore a size 2 1/2 – two cowhides and a half a barrel of tacks. Once when I was leaving Grandpa’s and going home to our house above the big house, I was singing "Show me the Way to Go Home." Martin hollered out, "The first empty house on the left."

Martin came home from his job driving a truck and told Yates, Don, Charles and me that if we would wash his car he would take us to the river. This entailed drawing enough water from the well to wash the car, but we did it. Bea would pack a picnic lunch, and we would play in the river and later have our dinner. I think it was while he was still driving a truck, that Grandma needed a new refrigerator. Martin told her that if she would stop dipping snuff he would buy her one. She quit, he bought, she started back.

Everybody remembers the green canvas hammock that hung on the front porch, and wanted to be first in line to swing in it. On a Sunday afternoon, I was laying in the hammock, when Don called me into the house. His lame excuse of showing me some stupid card tricks gave Wayne the opportunity to replace the hammock hook with string. When I sat down the hammock string broke and I landed on my tailbone. I was in great pain, and Don was only concerned that I couldn’t take a joke. This was the beginning of what was to be a life-long problem with my back. After Don developed back problems of his own, he apologized many times to me for the incident.

Once when we were little I had Don backed up against the house beating on him, and he said in his deep voice "Alright now, Mary Frances, leave me alone. I not doing you no harm." This phrase he was to repeat many times over the years. Almost as many times as he said "Voovees (Louise), scratch my back."

Sometimes after church on Sunday nights, the teenagers would walk home. Of course walking along, we would be talking and making noise. Mr. Bill Early would come out on the porch of his house with his shotgun, and I think a few times he shot into the air, scaring everyone to death. Mr. Early raised guinea fowl and one day Elbert and Charles stole one. There was a cave below Uncle Jesse’s barn, and they went in it, cleaned the hen, cooked and ate it. I doubt Mr. Bill ever found out about that one. He wasn’t a friendly person. Mother, being the kind of person she was, waited until Mr. Bill left the house, and would then go to care for Mrs. Early. One Sunday morning on the way to church, Mother was driving by herself. One of the hens ran onto the road and Mother ran over it and killed it. So she stopped the car, picked up the hen, knocked on the door and told Mr. Bill that she was sorry it was dead. He said that was perfectly alright, thanked her for stopping to let him know she had killed one of his hens, and told her that she could take it home, clean and cook it and bring it back for him to eat. And she did.

The only time I ever remember seeing Mr. Bill in Piedmont, he had on a pair of overalls, an old shirt and no shoes. As a child, that just blew my mind. He stopped one afternoon to give Charles and Elbert a ride home from town. The boys really didn’t want to ride with him, but were afraid that turning down his offer of a lift would anger him. When Mr. Bill got to Uncle Jesse’s and stopped, the boys thanked him for the ride. He said, "That’s alright. If you hadn’t been welcome I wouldn’t have picked you up."

Aunt Katie was a happy, laughing, jolly, sweet person to be around, and had a personality different from her sister Aunt Annie. Uncle John was a grouchy person. I remember that during the war when FDR came up with Daylight Saving Time, he used to say that Roosevelt burned his hand trying to move the sun. And the mantle clock in the sitting room was never changed. The other clocks in the house were changed to Daylight Saving Time, but Uncle John refused to change that clock, saying that was God’s time.

We would be at Aunt Katie’s when a Quilting Bee was going on, and to keep me entertained Mother gave me a raw sweet potato, a spoon and a glass of water, and I would be happy. I don’t know how I did it, but I could lie flat on the floor, drink and never spill a drop. Hoyle tried it once and emptied an entire glass of water in his face. Hoyle was an ornery little boy, but I guess under the circumstances of birth and his younger years, he had a right to feel that way. We know that he was born out of wedlock to Blanche, and I have been told that Uncle John treated Blanche very badly, even to the extent that she was not allowed to have linens on her bed. But Aunt Katie was always very loving to Hoyle. When she died, Hoyle was on the chain gang, and a prison guard came with him to the funeral. He cried like a baby and said that the only person who had ever loved him was gone.

Blanche was a sweet person, and I liked her. She worked at the sewing shop with Mother. When I was about sixteen, Blanche made me a crazy quilt housecoat. She quilted the silk material, made the housecoat, and then lined it so that the backing of the quilting wouldn’t show. Over the years, there have been many times that I wished I still had that housecoat.

The community would have "Tacky Parties." I remember one party that was held at James and Thelma’s. Catherine Hollifield was spending the night with me so that she could go. I had a black crepe dress with a flounce on the side, and a border of sequins, and sequins around the neck. She and I dressed Raymond, who was about twelve years old at the time, in this black dress, one of Mother’s bras stuffed with diapers, Mother’s slip and hose and her red sandal high heels. We made his face up, and tied a silk scarf around his head so that the curls showed in the front. We got to James’ and nobody knew who Raymond was. They thought it was someone Catherine had brought with her. Some of the guys had on skirts or dresses, but they had their pants rolled up under their attire. James was positive that Raymond had come with Catherine. When he finally spoke and they knew who he was, everyone was flabbergasted. The guys would pull up their skirts, and show their jeans. Raymond would pull up his skirt and there would be his hose and slip.

I have heard Mother tell that when we lived with Aunt Dora when I was four years old the neighbors had a "tacky party." She dressed Daddy in women’s clothing from the skin out. During the party Daddy had to go to the bathroom, but when he got to the outhouse, he was disgusted with having to deal with all the clothes women had to wear. He said that never again would he dress like a woman.

Martin and Chole would take the church group to Carolina Hemlocks. The girls would bunk down in the bathroom and the boys would sleep under the shelters on the picnic tables. We woke up one morning and found that animals we hoped were raccoons and not bears had attacked our food. Over the years in remembering this, I couldn’t remember where Hemlocks was, but after Raymond moved to Burnsville, one day we started down 80S and passed a sign for "Carolina Hemlocks." Raymond’s church has their 4^th of July picnics there, and one year Debbie, Robert and I were visiting, and Robert wanted to go wading. We pulled off our shoes, and I rolled up my pants and the water was just as cold as I remembered it from years past.

Martin and Chloe always did a lot with the youth. I can remember getting up early on a Sunday morning and going up Highway 74 and somewhere off to the right was a little place (I don’t know if it had a name) where we would cook breakfast, eat, and then go back home and attend church.

In a Christmas play rehearsal; we were interpreting the story as it was read. The reader said "And suddenly, there was with the angel a multitude…" and I came on alone. George Willie Hill said, "I thought they said a multitude of angels." I told him that the rest of the angels were off stage asleep.

Of all the Christmas programs at Piedmont, the one that stands out the most was a play we repeated for two years. Almost all the youth of the church were in the play, and because she had long hair, Jack Hill, wife of George Willie Hill, portrayed Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. Part of the play involved a modern family, and I played the part of the "crabby" daughter. My feelings were hurt when someone suggested that the reason I did the part so well was because I had so many years of practice.

Reid was 10 years older than I, so there was not a lot of contact with him. But I remember going to Mars Hill, stopping in Asheville to pick up Bea and going on to see Reid. We would carry a big picnic lunch with us. Once at the end of school term, there was a cat named Satan owned by some boys who could not take him home for the summer. The cat was gray with long hair, and was beautiful. Satan needed a home, and Grandma said that she would take him. Somebody caught the cat, and it was the responsibility of Yates, Don and myself to keep up with him until we got ready to leave. I guess Satan decided that there were too many strange people, and he took off, and we never saw him again.

When we lived in the house where Raymond was born on Grandpa’s farm, I was threatened with a spanking for not looking at him when he was born. But since I went back to Grandpa’s to spend the night, and did get my bike for Christmas, I decided that he could stay.

I always enjoyed going to Asheville to visit Uncle Reid and Aunt Hurley, who operated a tourist home on Merrimon Avenue. The house was a two story, stucco dwelling with bedrooms that were rented to travelers. The interior always seemed dark, cool and filled with the aroma of Uncle Reid’s pipe tobacco, old books and magazines. I had never seen the number of books they had in their bookcases, and I loved to get a book and go into their front room, and watch the traffic pass as I read.

Beatrice, who lived there in the winter while attending Asheville Normal Teacher’s College, had gone back for two weeks in the summer to run the tourist home while Aunt Hurley went to Durham to visit her family leaving Uncle Reid at home to manage the Langren Hotel. I went with Bea, but had to be quiet and stay in the background when there were paying guests, because children were not supposed to interfere with the peace and quiet of the mountains. There were three guests from Florida; a nurse, her patient and a friend of the nurse. We took them around Asheville to see the tourist sights. At the Grove Park Inn for lunch, I was impressed with the size of the two fireplaces in the lobby. We went to Canton and had lunch at the Old Bell Tavern, the restaurant where Reid Jr. worked as a waiter. It was across the street from the famous Canton paper mill, and the odor during lunch was almost more than we could endure. A week later, Margaret the nurse was to return her patient to Florida, and then come back to the mountains for an additional week with her friend. She asked if I wanted to ride with her to Florida and back. I replied "No. I’ve heard of people taking kids off and not bringing them back." I missed my first opportunity to visit Florida, even with Bea’s blessing. When she returned to Asheville we were all sitting on the front porch, and Margaret said "See Frances, I told you I was coming back."

Daddy had a goat we called Nanny. He was supposed to drink goat’s milk for stomach problems, and it was cheaper to buy the goat than to buy the milk. Nanny ran loose like a pet and when Mother was in bed after Raymond was born, Nanny would come on the porch and put her hoofs up on the windowsill and bleat. Mother got tired of hearing it. Once at Christmas the guys had sparklers and fireworks. Mother was in the kitchen when Nanny came to the window. Mother got a firecracker and went out the back door, came up to the edge of the porch, lighted the firecracker and threw it across the porch. When it exploded, Nanny went straight up and hit the top of the porch. The next moment Mother saw Nanny in the loft of the barn, having cleared the distance in record time. Frightened, Nanny was bleating as fast as possible. Mother stood and laughed so hard that she wet her pants. Nanny’s bleating days at the window were at an end. After we moved to the Smith farm and took Nanny with us, Mother still didn’t have any love for the goat, but that goat loved Mother with a passion. Her fate was sealed when she got on top of a freshly washed car belonging to Horace Smith, and he suggested in his usual quiet manner that it was about time for Walter to do something about the goat.

While we lived on the Smith farm we had little pigs. I don’t know where they came from, but there were several of them and they ran loose in the back yard. One day I heard a little pig squealing. I went to the back door and saw Raymond brushing one of the little pig’s teeth with his toothbrush. Hopefully we took the brush and threw it away.

Mrs. Jim Hall was my high school math teacher. She was noted for having a very large bosom and very small feet. Once when we were taking a test, she came and put her arm around me and said "Mary Frances, I don’t know how anyone can look as much like Minnie Sue as you do, and not be any smarter."

Mrs. Clarise Roberson taught history at Central High and being a former college professor, she graded us on our grammar as much as on our knowledge of history. The first year I was scared to death of her and failed the class. When I had to repeat the course, I knew that her bark was worse than her bite, and I was not afraid. The second time around I passed the course.

The Flynn sisters, Myrtis, Ozelle, and Corrine didn’t believe in any board game because they used dice. You couldn’t go to the movies. You couldn’t play cards. You couldn’t square dance. But we did it all. Wayne, Gene, and Billy would say that they were going to Frances’ for dinner. Mother and I would cook a whopping meal and after dinner, Mother would clean up the kitchen, and we would go to the movie. I told Mother that I was going to the movie and asked for $.35 for the ticket. I was honest about what we were doing, but they weren’t. I don’t know how the others got their money, and their mothers didn’t know they were going to a movie.

Gene had a Monopoly game and we would get together and play for half the night. One night Gene, Don and I went to Joan’s to play Monopoly and we left about 11:30 to go home and got near to the Ruppe house and ran out of gas. I steered while Don and Gene pushed the car toward town. When we came to the little hill I put on brakes, Gene took over and we coasted down the hill and made it to Ruppe’s Service Station. From there we walked to the taxi stand beside the theater, and it was long walk on a cold December night. Gene was lucky; he had on his suit and Navy Pea Coat. Don had on his suit coat, and although I had a long coat, I had on a dress and high heels. As we were walking, if my knees bumped together I though they would break off. It is now midnight when I walk into a taxi station with two guys and the request for a cab was met with skeptical looks. Mother woke up, and since it was late, she called Joan to find out when we were coming home. Of course by then Jo was in bed asleep and told her that we had been gone for quite a while. Now not only was Mother worried, but Joann was worried. We got a cab and took me home first, then Don, then Gene. What a night that was.

If Wayne planned to spend the night with Gene, they would leave the Monopoly game in the back of the truck until Tess and Mertis went to bed, then they would sneak it into the house and play half the night. I cried myself to sleep many nights because of the way the Flynn sisters talked about me. They criticized Mother even worse for letting me do openly what their children were doing behind their backs. One night I had a good talk with myself and said some people were going to talk about other people and as long as they were talking about me, the other fellow was getting a break. Until this day, I’ve never let anything I heard said about me bother me.

When I was about eighteen, and had already finished high school, Dalton’s had a beautiful coat I wanted to buy, but it cost $49.95. Mother said that she could make me one, and although I knew that she sewed beautifully, I couldn’t quite trust her to make me a nice coat. She finally talked me into it. We went to Excelsior Mills, and bought the best grade of wool, the best grade of lining, and inner lining. The collar on the coat at the store was different from the collar on the coat pattern. Mother told me to go to Dalton’s and tell them that I was interested in the coat, but wanted Mother to see it. I took the coat to the shop, and she cut a pattern of the collar, and I took the coat back the store and told them that I couldn’t afford it. I paid $1.50 apiece for three buttons and the total cost of the coat was $25. I had gotten a pretty scarf from Uncle Reid for graduation, and the first Sunday I wore the coat to church, I also wore the scarf under the collar. Grandma came up to me at church and said "Move that scarf, I want to see buttons you paid $1.50 apiece for." I wore the coat for five years, and then gave it to Beatrice, and I don’t know how long she wore it, and have no idea what happened to it after that. But as usual, anything Mother made was done well.

When we lived on the Smith farm, I had a case of laryngitis. I wasn’t sick, I just couldn’t talk. One evening I called Joan to see if she wanted to go to the movie. Because of my voice, she though I was a man. I didn’t start out to trick her, but since she didn’t know who I was, I took advantage of it. She said that she couldn’t go out with anyone because she was going steady with Don Hill who was away at college. I said "Well, Don’s in Mars Hill and he will never know it." We chatted for a couple of minutes and hung up. I wanted 15 minutes and called Jo again. Then she asked if I had just called previously. I told her yes, but it was too much fun to get her going. We went to the movie and had a good time.

After I was a bridesmaid for Jo’s wedding, a group of us including Faulton Hodge who had decorated the church, piled into our car after the reception to follow the newlyweds on the way to their honeymoon. We headed toward Asheville with me driving and my long dress pulled up around my knees. We stayed with them quite a while, but lost them in Asheville just before the Beaucatcher Tunnel. They stopped at a service station and told the attendant they were being followed, and asked if he could hide them. He had them pull into one of the bays, and then closed the door. We looked for them for awhile and then gave up and headed back home.

In the summer of 1950 the family made a trip to Roswell, New Mexico to visit Uncle George and Aunt Edith. We had a wonderful trip, and saw things we had never seen before – a real live rodeo, Carlsbad Caverns, and the White Sands. Daddy was determined to beat everyone’s driving record. I think by then Uncle George had made two trips here, and Uncle Johnny had made one trip out there. We were to leave Friday morning, and I had worked all night at the telephone office, getting off work at 7 a.m. I came home and finished packing and we left. Daddy was determined to drive straight through. He said not to worry about the first night, a cup of coffee and he would be alright. I pulled off my glasses, leaned against a pillow but couldn’t go to sleep. With four adults and two children we were packed very tightly, but still made room for an ice chest which held food for noon meals because that would be cheaper than eating in restaurants. Mother had made Edna and me matching blouses and skirts that buttoned down the front. We wore shorts for comfort in the hot car, but put on skirts whenever we stopped.

Finally as it was getting dark after twenty-four hours of no sleep, I began to feel drowsy, and fell asleep. I woke up about 10 p.m. with the car bumping on the side of the road. Daddy said "Frances, you’ll have to take it, I just can’t keep my eyes open another minute." I asked him what happened to that cup of coffee. On the return trip I was driving and dozing, with each blink lasting a little longer than the last. With a sizeable drop off the road to a river below, the bouncing of the tires off the shoulder jolted me alert. Mother screamed and said "Mary Frances are you asleep?" "No ma’am, I just woke up" I replied.

I was driving in the middle of the night across the desert with everyone other than Mother asleep. The road was straight as a ribbon as far as the eye could see. Since I was on the road by myself, I just let the car go, and was doing about 80 miles per hour. Mother commented about my fast driving, so I reached up and turned the dash lights out so that she could not see the speedometer. After that I don’t know how fast I was driving. I would see car lights approaching, dim my lights and sometimes it would be ten minutes before we would pass, and as we passed, it was obvious that the other car was driving as fast as I. The road signs for upcoming towns would not list the distance in miles, and Mother said that she didn’t blame them, if it was that far between towns, she would be ashamed to put the miles down.

I was working at the Southern Bell Telephone office and Edna Hollifield, our cousin, went with us. Edna had grown up in a strict household with Uncle Charlie and Aunt Ethel. While we were in New Mexico with male cousins, Clyde and Perry, everytime we came in from some adventure, Mother said that Edna looked as if she were going to be disciplined although everything was innocent. On the way home from the rodeo, Clyde, Perry, Edna and myself were riding in one car, and the guys decided it would be fun to go to the Bottomless Lakes for a cookout. Clyde drove fast to lose Uncle George who was driving the other car, and we got to the house and gathered up the things we would need, and left a note. We had to stop and buy some food and went to the Lakes and had a good time. We got home rather late, but Uncle George and Aunt Edith weren’t too happy that we had been there at night.

In 1943, the first time Uncle George brought his family back to North Carolina, Clyde who was about fourteen years old was really attracted to his new cousin Edna. In 1950 it had not been definite that Edna would be coming with us, because Uncle Charlie and Aunt Ethel had not yet decided that she could go. When we got to New Mexico, 7 p.m. on a Sunday morning, Clyde and Perry had set up a bed in the garage to leave a bed for our family. When all of us went out to the garage and woke them up, the first words from the guys were "They both came." During our stay the guys went out of their way to show us a good time. Clyde worked for the railroad, and could only come home on the weekends. But in that short time a romance developed between Clyde and Edna, which was to lead to their marriage later that year.

We lived 1,500 miles apart from the New Mexico family, but saw them three times during 1950. After our visit in June, Uncle George was here in August, and then the whole family came in November for the wedding of Edna and Clyde. Clyde and Perry were the sons of Aunt Edith from her previous marriage to a Roberson, and had been adopted by Uncle George. Years later when Clyde and Edna were to be married, it was not acceptable to Aunt Ethel that a Hollifield marry a Hollifield. Clyde then legally changed his name back to Roberson. Betsy Brown, the fiancée of Perry, would not marry him as a Roberson, so he changed his name legally to Hollifield.

When we lived on the Smith farm, David was three years old, and Daddy would come home at noon for dinner. As he left for work, he would kiss Mother and David goodbye. Once as he left and had given kisses, David asked him if he wasn’t going to kiss Daisy, our maid. She said "Lawd Mr. David, your Daddy don’t want to kiss me."

In August of 1950 the family and Lona were going to Asheville on a Wednesday afternoon shopping trip. That morning David didn’t feel good and kept asking if I thought he would be able to go. As the morning passed he still didn’t feel better, and when Mother came home she decided to stay home with David. David had his heart set on a Coca-Cola toy truck, and had planned to get it on this trip. Since he couldn’t go, I brought it back to him. While we were gone David continued to feel worse. He went to the bathroom and as usual rolled his shirt up to hold under his chin. He could not hold his shirt, and told Mother that he could not bend his neck. Mother told him to get on the bed and she would call the doctor. David was unable to get on the bed.

Mother was frightened, and called Dr. Yelton and he said that he would be out as soon as possible. Everybody’s worst fears were realized when he said David had Polio. He called three hospitals and was able to get him in the Asheville Orthopedic Hospital. As soon as we came back from Asheville, Mother Daddy and David left immediately to go back over the same road we had just traveled. As a new patient he was admitted to the Isolation Unit, and stayed there for several weeks. He spent those weeks inside a Respirator. Mother and Daddy could only look in the window and see him, and sometimes they would spend the night with Uncle Reid so that they could see him on Saturday and Sunday. Often during the week Daddy would drive up just to look in the window and see David. He would then drive back home. One Saturday the doctor was going to allow Mother and Daddy to see David. They were put in gowns, masks, and hats and had their hands tied behind them. They were told that whatever they did, they were not to touch David. Daddy of course kissed him. Mother came home very excited because they had seen David. Thank goodness, she did not realize that in the doctor’s opinion, this was to have been the last time they would have seen David alive.

Since it was a new hospital, most of the money had gone for equipment, and there was little left for clothing and linens. Mother saw the near rags the children were wearing. She decided to make outfits of pants and shirts. She hit Mr. Little at Belks, Mr. Stamey at Stamey’s for materials, patterns and buttons. She didn’t ask her friends "Do you want to make an outfit?" She asked, "How many outfits do you want to make?" Mrs. Deese, the pastor’s wife didn’t sew, but Mr. Deese made an outfit. The first week she had enough pants and shirts for the children in David’s ward. We got to the hospital before the 2 p.m. visiting hours so that we could dress the children in their new clothes. They all looked cute in their blue overhauls and white shirts. The mother of another patient was so impressed that she went back home to Morganton and began to gather needed blankets, sheets, and clothing, from her local merchants. Mother went to a blanket factory in Asheville and they donated a great number for the cause. The local community continued to make the outfits until all the patients in the hospital had proper clothes.

David was to have his fifth birthday on October 5. Mother asked the doctor if we could come on his birthday and have a party for the patients in his ward. Because of the hospital’s appreciation for all she had done, they agreed to the party. David said he would have a party on one condition, and that was if everybody in the hospital could have a piece of cake and some ice cream. We had about sixty patients, and the staff to feed. Ellen made a huge cake; the WMU from Piedmont Church bought the ice cream, and the Asheville paper sent a reporter to cover the event. Mother and Daddy delivered the cake and ice cream around the hospital because I was allowed to go only to David’s bed. I stayed with him while he opened a number of gifts and cards from the many people who knew him in the town, and had been praying for him. When he opened his last gift he said "Now, I’m ready to go home." After a three month stay, the little patient who was not expected to live, walked out of the hospital.

Mother could sew anything, with a pattern or without. I had paper dolls that had a dress I liked, and she made identical dresses for Sue, Dulcie and me like the paper doll dress. Somewhere I have a picture of us standing outside the church in our dresses. JC and I had decided to get married with a quiet wedding ceremony on a Sunday morning after church. About three weeks before the date, I decided I wanted a formal church wedding. Mother made my wedding dress and veil, dresses for Sue, Catherine and Flossie, my attendants, for Martha, my flower girl, and for herself. I don’t know how she did that much in such a short period of time and could still run a shop.

Ellen made the wedding cake. I guess the experience with the birthday cake for David gave her the confidence to tackle my wedding cake. I was married on February 4, 1951; the year after David had polio. The night of the rehearsal, each time David would try to step up on the podium, he would have to put his hands down and crawl up, since he couldn’t make his legs work. Although I didn’t see it, when he walked down the aisle for the wedding holding the pillow with the rings on it, he stepped up on the podium without using his hands.

When Mother worked at the Sewing Shop, she would frequently need some small number of grocery items from the A&P. This was after David had recovered from Polio, and he would be spending the day with her. He would make a grocery list, but since he couldn’t spell the words, he would use "B" for bananas; "M" for mayonnaise, "L" for lunchmeat, and "B" for bread. He could not be confused as to which "B" was bread and which "B" was bananas. Mother went into the bathroom and said that the sink needed cleaning, and that she needed Babbo Cleanser. A while later, much to Mother’s surprise, Mr. Barton, the manager of the A&P, came in the shop with a can of Babbo. It seems that David had gone to the store without money, and told Mr. Barton that if he wanted to sell the Babbo he could go to the shop himself and get the money. Mother was embarrassed over the incident, but Mr. Barton said that the employees had kidded David enough over the years that they owed this one to him.

There was only one time when I was angry with Grandpa. Mother had moved in to take care of Aunt Dora, and had been there for a few years. Everyone in the family was well aware that Aunt Dora was difficult to care for. She had begun to lose her mind, and what she told or said was not always the truth. She complained to Grandpa that Mother was not doing what she thought Mother should be doing. Grandpa talked to Uncle Jessie and the two of them came to Spindale to talk with Mother. Considering her mental state, I was hurt that Grandpa would take Aunt Dora’s word over Mother’s. Mother told me not to feel bitter at Grandpa, because Aunt Dora was the older sister he had looked up to and listened to all of his life. In the time that followed, she was to live with various family members, who then realized first hand how difficult life with her could be. It was not long before she entered the county home, and died there soon after.

I have been told that Uncle Wash lived in Spindale with Aunt Dora while they both worked at the Spindale Mill. He stayed with her for the nights during the week, and on the weekends he would walk from Spindale to his home in Columbus. Their home in Columbus was large and sat very near the road.

When Mother had the sewing shop and Ellen was running the hardware, they had a face to face confrontation which came not to blows, but to bites. Mother had purchased a vacuum cleaner from the hardware, and Ellen sent her a bill for a late payment. Mother took the money to the store, and words were exchanged, as was the money. It was passed back and forth until Ellen tried to put the money down Mother’s dress, and at that time Mother bit her. Perhaps this goes back to a time in their youth when they were in the field working and Mother threw a bucket at her and hit her in the head. To add insult to injury, when they got back to the house Grandma made Mother clean Ellen’s bleeding head.

When I was learning to drive I would drive any vehicle anybody would trust me with. One Sunday afternoon I was driving Charles’ 37 Chevrolet, and Toni Leppard was driving Lester Hodge’s car. We went down Maple Creek Road, which had been freshly scrapped. Charles and I were in front and as we came around a curve, I got too close to the left shoulder, and the car slowly eased into the ditch. Charles glanced in the side mirror and the other car was not in sight, so he suggested that I lean my head against the door and he leaned his head on the back seat. Lester and Toni caught up with us and were afraid that we had been hurt in the accident, and were disgusted with us for being unharmed. It was a prank they did not appreciate. Jo was at my house some time later, and we were sitting at the piano, and she asked if Mother ever found out about my putting Charles’ car in the ditch. "Yes," I replied, "You just told her." Mother had come to the door to call us to dinner. Later, Mother and I started to town and she handed me her car keys, and said "I figure if you can put Charles’ car in the ditch, you can drive this one to town." From that time on, my driving could be done openly.

Across the road from Uncle Jesse’s house lived the McEntire family. Their daughter Dorothy and I were about the same age. The telephone had just arrived in the country, and eight houses were on one party line. This meant that when the phone rang, the number of rings determined the house being called. Many times when a call came in late at night, everyone knew that it was bad news, so everyone picked up their phones to hear the news. The telephone company made listening to private conversations very convenient by installing a "Plunger." This was a wonderful device, which when pulled up could enable you to hear the conversation without being heard. The McEntires shared a party line with us. Dorothy and her boyfriend would get on the telephone and for long periods of time would do nothing but breath heavily toward one another. I would get provoked, and ask her to please get off the phone.

We always thought it was very funny that Mr. McEntire drove his car sitting not directly behind the steering wheel, but sitting slightly toward the center of the front seat. This did put him closer to Mrs. McEntire. JC would do an impersonation of him by sliding to his right and saying to me "Move over Zorabelle, let Cicero drive."

Story telling is an art, but one that is best exercised in the oral traditions. Story telling involves a teller and a listener, involving both in the process of sharing the experience. Not only the words used, but the tone of voice, the expressions of the face; the inflections are all key elements in the art of story telling. Writing and reading stories are a quite different matter. A storyteller, who may wander and roam through the tale, may be cramped if the story is to be put on paper. Written stories are no less valid, and reach a wider audience, and have a lasting quality unavailable to the teller of oral tales.

For some time I have had good intentions, and did want to put some of my stories on paper to be preserved. It is easy to put off doing some of the things we know must be done, and sometimes takes a motivating force to get me going. In this case it was Raymond who came to Charleston on Easter Sunday, 2002 and for the next few days cracked the whip and saw to it that I got no rest until my present store of memories ran dry.

There may be further stories in future times, but I offer these now so that your memories may be jogged and a smile may come to your faces. Stories have happened, and will continue to happen, and until the saga continues………