Back to the Roots...Where I Come From

I mentioned my wonderful gramma Davis. Her full name, Nancy Elizabeth Davis...married John Franklin Davis. Through the years, I spent time sifting through the past with mother and asked many questions. She was one of ten phenominal children, next to last in the long line.
Her name, Martha Lucille Davis Freedman...married James William Freedman. As a baby, her name was Lucille Davis. She said, "I always loved the name of Martha. When I was a little girl, I asked mama if we could add that to my name." Obviously, the answer was yes. Over the birth of many nephews and nieces, one of her favorites was named after her and called by Martha all of her life.
Mother's sister, Lois, always known as the 'matriarch' of the Davis Clan had two nieces named after her. At reunions, one of the fun and 'could not forget to do things' was for the Martha's and the Lois's to have their picture made together.
Our family was built on love that thread itself deep inside and out over the course of time. If you met us...we hugged you. If you joined the Davis Clan...we hugged you. If you bumped into us in town...we hugged you. When you arrived at the reunion...yep...WE HUGGED Y O U!!!
I loved hearing of my mother's childhood. She grew up in the depression...one pair of shoes for the year. When she was in elementary school, she stayed in trouble. Dancing was her fascination. Told by her, she'd get up on the table and dance, dance across the floor at school and dance anytime she had the chance. What happened...you wonder. She danced a hole in the sole of her one pair of shoes! That's what happened.
The stories of 'cotton pickin' days were always intriguing to me. Each child began the picking grind when they turned 6. My mother was not a strong 6 year old. So, two brothers, Clarence and Alvin, positioned her between them as they went down row after row of cotton during the heat of each day. She picked everything, junk, vines, whatever her small hand (gloved, of course) could grab in a hurry. The two brothers would toss some of their picks into her bag as well. They drug the long sack behind them with the rope handle positioned over one shoulder. Their goal each day, as guided by Papa, 60 pounds.
Come the end of the day, the cotton wagon was perched at the end of the pasture...the old mule waiting patiently as he dozed. Each of the siblings had to take their bag of cotton, toss it over the sides of the wagon and prep the wagon for the cotton mill where it was weighed and tallied. For Lucille, her brothers always tossed her load first and then quickly emptied their pick of the day over the top. Why? They were covering for her. Remember, she picked trash and all. Papa would not have been a happy papa had he known that.
Each of the children had one pair of overalls, one pair of sox and one pair of pickin' boots. The boots were high calfed and laced from the toe to the top. The girls all wore handkerchiefs over the tops of the heads, under their floppy brimmed hats. They wanted to keep their fair, ivory skin just that way!
The story goes that each evening when they hit the house, they changed their clothes and laid them over a chair or something in the corner, out of the way of the main traffic. When the morning light broke through the windows, they were up and at it again. Sometimes the overalls were dry, sometimes they were still damp. Nevertheless, they had to be worn. EEwweeee. She always swore if they were dry, by the end of the week they 'could stand in the corner alone!'
Those children grew up in a time where they had to create their fun. No television, no bowling alleys, no this or that. Some of the games they played on a typical summer day went like this: Red Rover Red Rover; Pop the Whip; Tin Around the House, Kick the Can and many, many other games. An artesian filled lake was positioned not too far from their house...many hours were spent there in a boat.
Back in those days, church supers were a fun event. Those gatherings represented a combination of food, fellowship and fun. It was always, one great social! Grama Davis cooked pies, fried chicken, made salads..and all the other mothers did the same things. As I was told, "we ate the best of all foods. The tables wore festive cloths and iced tea was served in fruit jars. There were tubs of sodas, swimming in ice!" Now, what kid wouldn't enjoy those fellowships?
To me, our Christmas was always enchanting, exciting, delightful and just fun! We began after Thanksgiving and shopped til we dropped, wrapped packages, put up our tree and planned our meals. That all occurred between the candy baking!
For my mother...their Christmas was also a festive time. She recanted, "When I was very little, I remember the secrecy and excitement in the air. Mama made pies and cakes for Christmas. Her specialty was Lemon Pie. The scent of lemon pie always makes me remember the long bench in our kitchen with all the pies cooling."
"We did not have a Christmas tree, but on Christmas Eve, we each chose a chair for Santa Claus to leave our presents on. We hung our stocking over the chair back and on Christmas morning, they were filled with fruit and nuts. Our gifts were in the chair and around the chair. We always found the scuff marks from Santa's sleigh in our fireplace. Papa was always sure to make the marks in the heavy soot on the back wall of the fireplace before he went to bed!!"
As said by my mother, "Christmas was just another celebration that bonded us with love and appreciation of the things mama and papa did for us throughout our lives." Strange, that's exactly how I feel about my childhood.
Thus, when I have spoken about strong Christian family, how I grew up and more, now you have a backdrop to encompass those memories. Were we rich? Nah. Did we travel the world? Nah. Did we eat Green Eggs and Ham? Nah. But we shared life, built a strong foundation and launched myself and my brother into life careers of our choosing.
As for Christmas at our house...Jim was a driving force for the grand finale. We all lived it, loved it and couldn't wait for it to come again. In my final years as an Instructional Coordinator, I drove the others on my floor wild. A couple of years in a row, when mid-October arrived, I began to put my Christmas CD's on. They would kick and scream for a while..and, then. I'd hear them humming Christmas songs.
Strength, communication, cooperation, respect and hard work with a dash of pride forged this kid prior to stepping into the big, real world.
Have I given back? I think so. Family, friends and a lot, a lot of students who walked into my classroom. For some of them it was perhaps the only hug they got in a day, a week, a month or a year. But, it didn't cost a thing and, perhaps, it gave them a small piece of goodness that thrust them forward for one more day!
Weight has always been my challenge. Now, the wait is my challenge. But, preparing for a new life change has opened new doors to me. I knew I liked writing...but, I never knew I loved writing. It's good to see your own thoughts flow onto the page. And, who knows? it may offer a smile to someone else.
Someone once said,
"Life is a song - sing it.
Life is a game - play it.
Life is a challenge - meet it.
Life is a dream - realize it.
Life is a sacrifice - offer it.
Life is love - enjoy it."
How ya doin' in Life 101 today?