More Harold

 O.K. Daddy was livid, Mother was upset and me, I was scared!  Harold's parents came over, they and my parents had a long discussion.  Harold and I just sat and listened.  Harold asked if I could move in with them & they said yes. So I moved in with the Johnson's and decided I'd finish school where Harold had graduated, Garner High. That way, I could catch the school bus and be delivered on time. I enrolled and I think I ended up going maybe a week total, then I just quit altogether. Oh well, such is life...my life anyway!
  Harold and I broke up maybe three times (same as when we were dating), and in the end moved down to Washington NC to live with my bio father and his wife. Harold had a job the following day, scraping barnacles off boats. We had an old A-Model Ford. I had nothing but the clothes on my back and my purse. Daddy had said, ' If you go back to him again, you will not be welcome in this house.'  I found out when I called home one day that he had locked everything down tight so that I couldn't get in.
 We lived in Washington for about three months..(what is this 'three' thing). Anyway, Harold took off work one day and we drove to Raleigh, ( I had bought a couple of things during this time to wear) I had to get some of my clothes. I called when we got in town and talked with John, who was close to seven years old at the time. I asked him if he'd open the back bedroom window when I got there so that I could get in the house.  He did.  I got my clothes and we were off again.
  When we finally moved back to Raleigh, we rented a small upstairs apartment down the street from his parents. Started going back to Church and I got a part time job at Belk's. I later found a job at a dry cleaning plant, through my long time, very best friend Ann. .( Ann's and my life have been paralled in so many ways..we went from grade school through high school together, we were both very young when we married; we both had girl's first.. close to the same age, then we each had a boy, then another girl. Our kids played together, we exchanged baby clothes, she, Dickie, Harold and me would always get together to play cards or do anything that didn't involve spending any money...because we didn't have that much to spend. All through our lives we have stayed close. Harold died of a brain aneurysm..four years later Dickie died of a severe brain injury working with a job that Harold had helped him get with the State. To this day, Ann and I are still the very best of friends. We know things about each other that no one else has the priviledge of knowing.)
I worked at that cleaners and another one until I became pregnant at eighteen. We had moved to several apartments until that time.
 On February 10th, 1958 we had our first child, Carol Michelle. She was beautiful and looked just like her Granddaddy Johnson. Big blue eyes, olive skin and dark hair.  As soon as I saw her, I said, " I want another baby." Her Grandmother Johnson always said she was going to grow up to be Miss America. (she wasn't spoiled too much though). I went back to work only when someone was going on vacation and I could fill in for a week.
  Eighteen months later I got my wish. We had a son, Larry Neil on June 6th 1959. He was a Ragland boy, (only without the big nose, thank You God); he had his Granddaddy Johnson's nose. During his childhood I often said, ' why do I have to grow up with my brother all over again?'..ha!
  When Miki and Neil were babies we lived in a section of a friend's house that had been closed off as a VERY small apartment. One bedroom, small living room and kitchen and tiny bathroom. No hot water, no washer, no dryer (who ever heard of such a thing?) and living on a very limited budget. Poor Harold, he worked a full time job with the State; on Tuesday and Thursday nights he helped a friend pour concrete steps; on Friday nights he worked as a car-hop at a drive in grill and on Saturday's, all day, he worked at a shoe store selling more on Saturday than the full time help sold all week. When the legislature was in session he worked as a page most all night on Monday,
  When Neil came along, we had to put Miki on the couch in the living room. She fell off a couple of times before she got the swing of things, poor baby girl.  I was tired!! I had no car (I had no car license), we were broke most of the time; when Harold didn't have time to take me to his Mothers to do laundry, I'd wash things out by hand (on a scrub board) and hang them over lamp shades or whatever until they dried. Then I'd have to iron them because they were so stiff..(especially the diapers). I wore Harold's socks when it got cold (we were what you'd consider poor). Harold was tired..he worked all the time.

   But somehow, by the grace of God and some occasional help, we made it.
Picture is of Miki and Neil at Christmas  She was almost four and Neil two (right before Luanne was born).

Harold Edward Johnson

This one may take a few posts.
 As I related earlier, I met Harold at the skating rink on Saturday dance night. He was with Jan; they were very close friends.  There was a fairly overweight guy there that night asking girls to dance. When they'd turn him down, Harold would come right behind him asking the same girl to dance with him; they almost always did. When the guy asked me, I politely refused and Harold came up right behind him and asked me; I refused him too. I thought ' if I dance with anybody it will be Jan'.

  But, I'll never forget what Harold had on that night; white buckskin shoes, black peg leg pants, black shirt, pink tie and white sport coat. Obviously he impressed me a little for me to remember what he was wearing . I thought he was pretty cool; he knew he was cool.
 He worked part-time jobs after school and the money he earned was used for clothes and gas for his Dad's car (he dated many girls); he needed gas money for dates.
 Anyway, somehow or other Jan ended up asking me out and gave me his class ring. We dated for three months and always doubling with Harold and (most of the time) my friend Pat.  The sweetheart dance came around at school and I knew that Jan and I were going; but I'd also heard through the school grapevine that he was going to break up with me. I decided that night, that I'd break it off with him before he had the chance. And I did, right after he took me home from the dance. The next day (Sunday), Harold called and asked me for a date for that night. We had become friends during the double-dating period. I said 'yes' and we ended up going steady for the next eleven months. (Mother said, ' I just knew he was waiting for you and Jan to break up.)  For the next eleven months we'd date, break up, get back together..etc. I remember one afternoon I got so mad at him that I threw his class ring across four lanes of traffic, but he found it and I took it back two days later. On my sixteenth birthday, he took me out for a special evening then halfway through, he said he was going to take me back home. I was so mad that when he let me out at the house, I threw my purse so hard that it landed on the roof. Harold left. A friend of mine came out climbed on the roof and retrieved it. When I went inside, ( all blown up like a jellyfish), a surprise birthday party was awaiting me. I was so embarrassed.  Harold came back and joined the party. Man I was good at throwing things.
  On our last Saturday night date we decided that we'd get married the next day. On Sunday after church, we took his Dad's car, went to Dillon SC, and eloped on January 15th 1956 (a secret marriage.)  After church that night, he took me home and I kept my mouth shut....sorta.  I told my friend Pat.
  At school the next day, I told my very best friends what we had done. I continued school for the week and on Friday night the family drove to Asheville to spend the weekend.  After dinner on Saturday night, a guy I knew there came over to the house, I had liked him a lot before I started dating Harold. He, Chap and I were sitting in the breakfast nook and the grownups were in the living room. This guy, Winston, asked me to go out with him and it surprised me. Chap whispered, 'she can't, she's married'.
 We got back to Raleigh on Sunday night and on Monday when Harold brought me home from school, Mother was at home, which was unusual.  She called me in her room where she was laying down, I went in and she said, ' I can't believe you have done this. Did you have to do this?'  She was distraught. My friend Pat had told her. When Daddy found out, he was livid..!!

  Me, on Easter after Harold and I started going out together. Taken at Aunt Berta's. OMGosh, that Hat!!!
Harold gave me the corsage.

Aunt Berta

 My Mother's sister, Aunt Berta, was like a second mother to me. I started going to Asheville every summer after my cousin Jo was born, to visit for a couple of weeks. Later in years, my friend Pat would go with me.
 One of the first visits I had there happened to be during the time of my birthday. Aunt Berta surprised me with a beautiful homemade cake with silver sprinkles on top. Of course I cried. Me, the emotional girl.
 She always made the best homemade soup and would freeze it in quart milk cartons. She also, like my mother, was very frugal. She saved aluminum foil, washing it off letting it dry & folding it for re-use. She would save plastic food storage bags, washing them out and hanging them with a clothespin over the sink to dry. (I do the same to this day). She would stand at the kitchen sink, washing dishes or preparing food with her ankles crossed (I did the same and so does my youngest daughter). Funny the little traits that are carried down.
  Aunt Berta, like Mother, would lay down to rest in the afternoon with a bag of candy and a book. She loved to play solitaire and taught me many different varieties of the game. She would take me shopping for school clothes every time I'd go up for a visit. My granny lived with them then and granny loved to play Chinese checkers..and most times cheat at the game, giggling when she did.
 Most times Pat and I would travel by train, leaving late at night and arriving in Asheville in the morning. What fun that was, we'd stay up most of the night although trying to sleep. We always looked forward to the visit.
Always looked forward to our time with Jo, Uncle Day, Granny and Aunt Berta. It was my home away from home.
 They had a piano and record player downstairs in the den and I'd go down and bang away on the piano or put on some of their many 78 records and dance & sing my heart away. My cousin Jo can probably attest to that. We had a blast!! I knew most all the old songs by heart.

 I visited there every summer until I got married and afterward when we'd go for a couple of days, Harold and Granny would tease each other constantly. This was a wonderful, memorable time in my life.
 Above photos: Aunt Berta and Uncle Day in earlier years, and my cousin Jo today.

Big nose, knock kneed, skinny

 At the age of twelve, I was as tall as I am now 5'7," and skinny as a rail. I was always teased that I could hide behind a clothesline pole. I had that Ragland nose (big), wore glasses, my knees were a little knocked, and I always had knee problems; dislocating knee caps, which is very painful and hereditary. I'm sure there's something else that was sorta backward about me, just can't think of it at the moment.
 I didn't like being teased, but I hid it well I think. I would just laugh it off when I really felt 'not good enough'. Being skinny is as bad as being obese; and I ate like a pig. Mother said I could out-eat anyone at the kitchen table. Still I couldn't gain any weight; until around the age of fifteen. All of a sudden I started getting compliments on my figure, but I didn't know how to accept them since I'd very seldom been complimented. It was embarrassing to me, plus I didn't believe it.
 Then when a few boys became interested in me, I couldn't understand why but it was nice. My very first boyfriend was a guy named Jimmy F. (won't reveal the last name). He was Italian? I think. Daddy had a special name for him. Anyway, he is the one who gave me my first kiss. A french kiss...on a dare. One of my friends was there when it happened and she said she was going to tell my mother. I ran home, so that I could tell Mother what had happened before my friend could. I was very naive..Very naive!!!  I guess Mother probably had a good laugh over that one, but it scared me to death.
 The same guy came up on his motorbike to my house one day. I was out in the back yard and he asked me if
I'd go with him. I said, 'go where?'  He said, 'you know, go with me.' Again I said, 'where is it you want to go'. He was asking me to go steady and I never figured it out. He finally gave up and left. I guess he figured he just couldn't handle 'stupid'. Told you I was naive.
 High School, pretty much fun. Not good in math, science, history. Good in typing, art, music.. you can see where my strength lies.  Still daydreaming. Lots of good friends, slumber parties, flirting with boys. I never elected drama, I couldn't stand in front of a crowd of people to speak without freezing up. Met lots of new friends to hang out with. I never skipped a day of school.
 There was a hangout right across the street from school that we'd go to every day after school was out. The elite crowd never went, just us (lowly) inmates. The juke box was always playing, we would drink root beer floats, gab, laugh, talk about the latest fabs around.  I had two boyfriends in high school (they didn't know that I liked them), Larry and Ted. Some days, if I went home with my friend Molly, we'd cut through  Methodist Orphanage (since it was closer to her house) so we could wave at all the good looking boys who lived there.
One guy in particular that I really wanted to ask me out was Jan. We'd walk through and sometimes he'd be leaning out his dorm window and yell something and we'd wave.
 On Saturday nights, at the roller rink, we had a local disc jockey who would come out and 'spin' records for the teens. Most times I would go with a friend. We'd hang around the rail and watch people dance, hoping someone would ask one of us. One Saturday night I saw Jan there with a friend of his. They were hanging real tight. I forget who went with me that night, but she said that maybe his friend would ask me to dance. I said, 'I ain't dancing with anybody unless it's Jan'.  This fat guy came up and asked me and I declined. Then Jan's friend came up right behind me and asked and I said 'no thanks' to him too.
 Well somehow or other, Jan and I started dating. His friend's name was Harold Johnson, and we'd always double date. Harold would date my friend Pat. They hung out at my house sometimes, because we had a ping-pong table set up in the dining room, and the guys would come over and play. Jan & I dated for about three months..always doubles. I heard a rumor at school that he was planning on breaking up with me. We were going to the Sweetheart Dance at school for Valentine's Day, and I decided that before that night was up, I'd break it off with him before he had the chance, and I did. The next day (on a Sunday), Harold asked me for a date and I said yes. We doubled again, only this time Jan was with Pat instead of me. Mother said,
'I just knew Harold was waiting for you and Jan to break up so he could ask you out.' ( I didn't know it.)

And that is how I started off with the man that I had no idea I'd marry.

   Above photo is disc jockey, Jimmy Capps. He also had a nightly program called, 'Our Best To You' where we could call in to dedicate songs. Harold's dedicated song to me was, 'Earth Angel'. Next photo is of me and my friend Pat Keyes. I was 14 in this photo taken at an Asheville carnival.

Mother

 The only way I know how to put this all is to tell the truth. And yes, I am extremely prejudiced when it comes to my Mother. I won't exaggerate though.
 Mother was an artist at heart. It showed through her many, many talents. I honestly don't believe there was anything she could not do.
First of all, Mother was very frugal. You had to be if you weren't born with a silver spoon in your mouth. Times were hard, everyone in her family worked and combined part of their earnings into a small 'stash' to make things easier. During the war, nothing was thrown away, 'just in case'. I'm talking, paper, cloth feed bags, glass bottles (there was no plastic), rubber bands, twine..anything that could possibly be used for something else. This standard of living carried through her entire life.
Mother made all of her own clothing, I still have an old shirtwaist (that's what they called a blouse) that she made when she was a young woman. It is so tattered now, but I saved it for the intricate, fine drawnwork done down the center. She could upholster furniture, make evening gowns, crochet, knit, embroider, whatever type of needlework there was, Mother could handle it, professionally. She could make something gorgeous out of whatever she had on hand. She upholstered the seats in my youngest brother's car one time, with leather. One year, she knitted sweaters for everyone for Christmas, another year ponchos for all the girls, she made us quilts, never throwing away the tiniest scraps of material.
  Mother could paint and draw beautifully; write wonderful poetry;(which is sometimes how she put her thoughts on paper), she was an excellent typist and an avid reader. The house was full of books when she & Daddy passed; some Reader's Digest dating back to 1940 something.
 A true artist doesn't have time to keep a pristine house. I've seen Mother sit and crochet & knit with dust on all the furniture, papers stacked on the floor, the dining room table crammed with stuff and a sink full of dirty dishes. These things didn't bother her in the least.
I have a charcoal portrait done by Mother when she was in high school; framed and hanging in my house. It's of a black woman with a scarf on her head; beautiful. She could make tiny, intricate flowers with beads and small gauge wire. She handcrafted pin cushions filled with the hair she had saved. My youngest daughter has one that she made that is stuffed with my braids, some of mother's hair and some of her own hair. The hair keeps the pin points nice and sharp.
 Mother made huge batches of homemade fruit cakes every November. She'd make them in different sizes, by the pound, to sell for extra money for Christmas. She'd bake them, then soak cheesecloth with sherry to wrap them in to keep them moist. Of course, she'd always save one or two for the family, make up some 'syllabub' (whipped cream with sherry), to put on top of a slice. Oh My Gosh! We all loved Mother's fruitcakes.
Her real Italian spaghetti was to die for and I think all the girls in her family have her recipe. Homemade lemon pies, her special macaroni and cheese....I could go on and on. She did all these things while working a full time job, after the boys were old enough for her to go back to work.
 Mother was easy going, fair, honest to a fault, caring, most loving, but occasionally stern,  She didn't put up with any 'foolishness'.
 Mother would come home from work each afternoon and rest for about thirty minutes. She'd lay down with a book and a bag of candy then get up and start supper. After supper it was solitaire or gin & cribbage with Daddy, they loved card games and often played Bridge with friends.

  When she died, it crushed my world. All the wonderful, glorious memories stay with me today. I have so much of  'her' here with me. I was so totally blessed to be born of this woman and I thank God that she was mine.
  Above: Mother and Daddy in later years. (I'm sure I will remember more and edit)

Daddy

 When I was seven (maybe close to eight), anyway, sometime around there, Mother re-married. No, not to Nick or Patrick. She and John (Biddle) Carraway tied the knot. He was a pilot in the Army Air Corps during WWII and left as a Lt. Col.. When he and Mother married, Chap and I went with them on their honeymoon trip to Atlantic Beach.
 Daddy bought his own Cub plane and on pretty weekends, usually on Sunday's, he would take us up for a flight. He'd do 'loop-d-loops', fly upside down, do the 'roll' and sometimes even fly in a straight line..:)  We loved it (well, of course we did). His favorite thing to do was to play golf, and was, always. Well, that and play Bridge.
 He told the corniest jokes (did that until he died). We had a Daddy.
 He was very strict on us, expecting us to respect our elders, doing our chores, eating what was put in front of us, (thinking of all those starving children overseas), standing erect (no slumping), no sassing, no skipping school (no way was I ever going to skip school, the man had eyes in the back of his head), in other words he taught us a lot. We were no longer spoiled little kids.
Granny left to move with my Aunt Berta in Asheville not long after. My cousin Jo was born, and Granny went up there to help and to stay until her death.  So we all just stayed in Granny's house, never thinking that she wouldn't come back.
Mother & Daddy tried to start their own business; a dry cleaning plant-Zoric Cleaners. (Don't know why he chose that name). After a few years, that didn't pan out. Daddy went to work for the NCSBI, gone nearly all week most of the time.  By that time I had a new little brother, John Biddle Jr. Two years later I had another little brother Russell. They were so much fun, and so totally different from one another. John was easy going, pretty quiet, easy to get along with; Rusty was fiesty, moody, and cantankerous but sweet and loving.
 When John was starting to walk around, I'd dress him in my big doll dresses, and get him to dance for us. He was my first 'baby'. That's when I learned to change diapers.
 The SBI job didn't last for many years so Daddy got a job in Greensboro with Ideal Cement and commuted back and forth from Raleigh. He worked there until 'retirement'. He then found a part time job at the Raleigh YMCA and worked with them until Mother passed. Daddy told me many years ago that the downfall of this country would be the degradation of human morals. How prophetic a statement. He was wise in many ways.
He later found a nice lady to 'court' for a few years, until he became unable to live alone. He then came to live with me and my second husband at the beach. After about 5 months there he died at my home. My then husband, Bill, coddled him with much patience and love.

My brother John..now sends the 'corny' jokes.  Above; Daddy, when he and Mother married, and again

playing his favorite sport.                 John, in front, and Rusty..my cute babies.
The very top picture is of me, Chap & John on his first birthday.
Second from top me holding my 'first' baby, John.

School Days

Lewis Elementary School was less than a block from our house, but across a four lane avenue. We had a crossing guard so Mother didn't worry about us going across to get to school. She'd stand at the door and watch until we got to the end of our block (our house was right in the middle).
My first grade teacher was Mrs.Fort and the principal was Mrs. Hicks. I had already been in kindergarten for two years, so I was used to going to school.
The first grade was fun from what little I can remember. Don't remember my second grade teacher's name; but my third grade teacher was Mrs.Southerland. I think she was my favorite of all the teachers I had.
Most of the teacher's in elementary were older women (no men), unlike today, when it seems that so many young folks are teaching. Mrs Southerland's grandson was in High School with me, so that sorta tells you how old she might have been.
Every May 1st was 'May Day' in elementary, and we all looked forward to it, and every child participated in some way. We would all dance around the May Pole. The pole was maybe 8 or 9 feet high with streamers hanging from the top. Each child that participated would take the end of a streamer, and with music playing, we would dance around it, weaving in and out from each other until at the end the streamers would be braided to the ground. On May Day, the school grounds would be full with parents and other family members watching the events.
One year, I think it was third grade, I was in an Indian dance together with twenty or so more children, and of course Mother made my costume. Mother was very involved in our school activities, quite often making dozens of cupcakes for us to carry for different occasions.
Another year, our May day activity was dancing the Minuet. Mother, once again, made our costumes, along with our white wigs. (my brother participated in that one.) I wish I had a picture of that particular costume. My dress was blue satin-like material with a white overskirt pulled up into waist high scallops on each side. My brother's outfit was made of the same blue.  Mother made up my face, complete with a black beauty mark. When I looked in the mirror I just knew I was the most beautiful girl in the world..
 In seventh grade, I was picked  to do a solo ballet; coming down the school steps into the crowd, just winging it all the way through with a huge bouquet of flowers in my hand throughout the whole dance. I felt so glamorous, although I wasn't, but hey, I was doing the movie star thing, and those flowers never hit the ground.  Once again, Mother made my ballet dress.
 In those early school days, I knew everything there was to know about acting, musicals, and performing in front of a crowd, and why not; after all I was the movie star idiot. I had gone to watch many musicals at the movie theater, watched the stars perform, imitated their dancing, tried to sing the way they did, and in my head, and heart of hearts I was almost as good as they were. I was the ultimate 'ham'. Therefore, I was called down quite a few times in school for 'daydreaming'. The movies and music were my world.

Somehow, I made it through and 'graduated' from elementary to go into High School. My grades, needless to say, were not of the highest caliber.
The photo at the top was in seventh grade, with my 'Ballet' dress that Mother made.
At the bottom the Indian outfit also handcrafted by Mother. My brother, by the way, had no muscles at that time..:)

The Sock Mill

 I'll never forget the night the old sock mill caught on fire. I never heard, or don't even know that anyone else did, how it started. All I do know is that when you live on a dead end street, news travels very quickly.
I wasn't yet asleep I don't think, but if I was I was wakened by the hubbub in the house; scurrying around, doors opening and closing, someone on the phone, sirens. I got up and heard Mother or Granny saying something about the old mill. Then they went outside.  Then I went outside. Mother told me to go back in, but I begged her to let me stay out and watch.
 I got to the front porch and everything was an unusual bright color. I saw neighbors on the street right in front of our house (remember, the mill was right across the track, we were three houses from the track). I went out into the street and Mother told me to stay back, I did, right behind her. Neighbors were coming down our way or up our way, and were all huddled in one spot just watching, wondering, chattering, hoping, praying I'm sure.
The flames were shooting so far up into the sky with sparks coming down everywhere. Mr. Kuhn, our friend and neighbor two houses up, next to the tracks, was propping a long ladder beside his house carrying a water hose with him. Everyone kept yelling, 'be careful, be careful', we were all afraid that he would slip and fall, he was not a young man.  He was spraying the roof of his house to keep the sparks from catching it on fire. He stayed up there most of the night spraying his roof.  Firemen were working laboriously. It was mass confusion and hysteria, but was unusual excitement for a small girl. My brother says he doesn't remember any of it.
 Nothing burns quite so fast as an old wood mill full of hosiery and socks, and it was a huge building. Watching it blaze and blaze was almost hypnotizing, so frightening and yet awesome; as fire can be. I was made to go back into the house to bed after some time, not where I wanted to be.
 The next morning when I went out to look, it was still smoldering but the fire was out. Mounds and mountains of soot and ash were where the mill once was. There was ash everywhere for some time after that. It had filtered and sifted it's way into every house anywhere nearby. And the rats!! I think every wharf rat in the world came across to our side of the tracks that night..running from the heat. Some of them were the size of raccoons. We fought them for years after that, in our yards, and in our houses. I always knew when Mother saw a rat..she'd let out a "whoop". She threw milk bottles at them, beat them with the broom and  put out poison. I don't think the rats truly ever left.
I don't believe many of the homes over on the mill side were damaged, but so many of the people there relied on the mill work for their livelihood, and I imagine hundreds of folks who worked there were devastated for awhile until they found more work... that was really considered the 'poor side' of the tracks.
After that, Smokey Hollow was, of course, never the same. A lot of the people who lived over there re-located to 'wherever'. My brother and I had quite a few friends that lived over there; we were all in the same elementary school together.

How Old am I ?

How old am I?  I'm old enough to remember the old cobbled streets in some parts of Raleigh; old enough to remember when the 'Ice Man' came three times a week to put a huge frozen square into Granny's ice box; old enough to remember when our milk was delivered in glass bottles from the 'Milk Man' in a horse drawn milk truck (or carriage); remembering Granny or Mother scooping the cream off the top of the milk to save for a special delicacy (we were not allowed to touch the cream).
I remember when our phone number was only for digits-with a party line (7294); when you could buy B-B-Bats two for a penny ( B-B-Bats is gooey candy on a stick), don't know if they're still around or not. When penny candy really was, penny candy;  buying huge sour pickles right out of the wooden pickle barrel for a nickel a piece; buying a pasteboard cup of ice cream for five cents and a picture of a movie star would be under the lid (wish I'd kept all that I had collected).
When Cracker Jacks had a REAL prize inside; when Monopoly had all metal movers pieces; the Flexi sled that we'd use in winter to slide down the street in deep snow.  When our regular cough syrup was a mixture of
whiskey, lemon juice and honey; when women's stockings had seams running up the back; Rationing stamps (or coupons.)

I could go on and on, but it would probably become very boring. It seems to me that times have changed at a much more rapid pace in my seventy-two years, than in the previous seventy-two.  It has been an astounding ride. I would never have, in my youth, come close to thinking that people in this day would be holding a small device in the palm of their hand, that could phone a friend, play a game, take a picture, play music and calculate numbers. Thinking about it is sometimes mind blowing!  I believe that I was born at just the right moment in time.
The above photo is of one of my Mother's boyfriend's, Nick, with me and Chap. (the one who taught me to tie my shoes )...:)

State Fair/Lassiter's Mill

When the State Fair came to Raleigh, it was pretty close to the best time of the year for us. Of course it was nothing like it is today, but it was plenty for us. Back then, at the fair, there were all sorts of contests, as well as the rides, cotton candy, etc. We never worried about getting separated from each other in the crowds because everyone knew where to go, and to stay, until we were located. The Waterfall. The waterfall has long since been demolished, why I don't know; I think there are more buildings where it used to be.
There were different colored lights behind the falling water that constantly changed, making it look like a magical place. You could sit there and listen to the falls, watching the colors transform from one to another and almost go into a dreamlike stance. It was beautiful. Seems to me sometimes, that too many  beautiful things are removed from this planet. Reminds me of an old song, 'They Paved Paradise and Put up a Parking Lot'.

When the circus came to town, it was also held at the Fairgrounds. I remember one year, our dad came to take us to the circus; don't remember much about it except that he took us.
Little did I know, that many, many years later, my husband Harold and I would know those grounds by heart, working there year after year with our kids. What fun life is!
If I were to put the bad/sad times on a balancing scale with the good/fun times, the bad times would pop up and just diminish into the atmosphere.
 There were many places we loved to go to. Lassiter's Mill was one of them. We toured the Mill, we swam in the long creek bed there and jumped off the bridge into the water. A great place to have fun.
 When we reached the age of twelve or so, Mother would get us a summer pass to Hayes Barton swimming pool. We'd walk down there (about 8 blocks) and swim the afternoon away, walking back home thinking about food, all the way.

 We'd go to Devereaux Meadow ballpark, either to play or watch a baseball game. Sometimes, on Saturdays, we'd go to the all day movies at the Capitol Theater, depending on what was playing. Our favorites were the westerns or Tarzan. For a dime, we could get in, a nickel for a soda and the same for popcorn. The Ambassador Theater downtown is where I went to see the musicals when I was older, again, riding the bus or walking.
 Photo above: Old Lassiter's Mill

Paternity

As we got a little older, we were allowed visits with our Dad, Roger Ragland.  Once, maybe twice a month, he would come pick us up on a weekend day and we'd share the visit with our step-mother (who we called Aunt Lou) or paternal grandmother, who we referred to as 'Mama'. We would also visit Aunt Dorothy (Roger's sister). Her son, (our cousin Johnny), Chap and I were like the three musketeers. We played together often. Either he'd visit us or we'd visit him. When one got in trouble, all three were in trouble.
  Mama Ragland had a small apartment in Raleigh, and when we were even older, we'd go visit her. She either bought or subscribed to every movie magazine available. When she'd finish reading them, I'd take them home. My bedroom walls were covered in color or black & white 8x10's of my favorite stars...Mother kept my bedroom door closed; (since it entered into the dining room.) I'd lay in my bed at night and just look at all those beautiful people hanging around me and dream away. One of my problems was that I would dream away at school too. Not good. Always been a dreamer.
Uncle Jack (Roger's brother), had a tailor shop in downtown Raleigh and on occasion we'd go visit him so that we could ride up and down on the elevator; we'd think of any excuse..'Uncle Jack, could we borrow a nickel to go down and get a drink?'..or a candy bar. We loved asking the elevator operator..'up please..down please.' Of course, he knew who we were, and knew where we wanted to go.

Times were so different then. At about ten or eleven years old, we would get a nickel, ride the bus downtown, get a transfer token, visit Uncle Jack or Aunt Berta (my mother's sister), who both worked in town, then take the bus back home. Granddaddy worked for Norfolk & Southern RR then..he was sorta downtown too. Nothing was ever thought about us being 'snatched', or given drugs, it was a trustworthy time in America. If we didn't have bus fare, we'd walk. Really wish things were still that way today.

The above photos: my dad, Roger.  Very early photo of my paternal grandparents Annie and William, with Roger sitting in front of them. I don't remember my grandfather Ragland.

Kudzu & The Peanut Man

My brother Chappie (as he was called back then), and I were thirteen months apart. We had fun together; we got into trouble together, we would try to see who could ' out-scare 'the other. We were best buddies. We could fight each other, but no one else had better try to bully one of us, because the other one would step right in to defend. (but that's the way it is with most siblings.)
  We lived on a dead end street; a long bank full of kudzu grew down to a railroad track at the end of the street. Up the other side was a huge sock mill in an area known as 'smokey hollow', (so named I suppose, because of all the smoke from the mill). We were not allowed to go across to the other side. Ha!! Not so, with my brother.
  The house (on our side) beside the railroad track had a huge lot behind it with an overgrowth of of spindly trees, kudzu and bamboo (which we called cane poles). This was our favorite place to play (and it was only two doors away from home). There, is where we became 'Tarzan and Jane', ' Roy and Dale', 'Gene Autry', or any one or two of our favorite heroes at the time. This special place was magical.
We cleared small paths, we swung on vines, hid from each other, whooped and hollered our way through every inch we knew by heart. All Mother had to do was come out the door and whistle for us, and we knew it was time to go home.
 We slid down the bank to the railroad track, the butts of our pants turning red from the clay, and walk the tracks to see who could go the farthest without falling off. We'd wait for the train to come and yell at the man on the caboose to 'blow your whistle', and he would, every time. What a wonderful, free, and exciting  childhood we had.

 On Sunday's, if the weather was nice, Granddaddy would take us up to Capitol Square there in Raleigh to feed the pigeons peanuts. He would sit and chat with the 'Peanut Man' while we ran around the square, climbing the statues and playing hide 'n seek; and of course we fed the pigeons too. So many wonderful memories.
The above picture is ..you guessed it..the Peanut Man.

The War & Mother

During the war, we had 'practice' black outs in our city a couple of times a week. The city sirens would wail when this was going on; usually for no more than about ten minutes. We'd all go out and sit on the front porch and wait for the lights to start flickering back on,.here was no light on anywhere. The whole city would be pitch black.  I was never frightened, but one night I remember granddaddy and me sitting on the swing and he struck a match to light his pipe; I said, ' Don't light that match Granddaddy or they'll see us!' He just sorta chuckled and said that it would be o.k. that as small as that match was nobody would pay any attention.
I only remember bits and pieces of my very young life, living with them, but everything that I do  remember is ingrained as wonderful.
Mother had a couple of 'boyfriends' during this period and they were both enlisted in some type of armed forces. On their leave (I'm assuming), one or the other would come over, always bringing Chap and me some little gift. One of them was named Patrick, the other Nick. I think it was Nick who taught me to tie my shoes. Patrick brought Chap and me a beautiful Easter basket filled with things one year. One, or the other of them took us with Mother to Pullen Park on a few visits...that's about all I remember about them, except that they were very nice to us. Chap and I were always included.

Mother was a gorgeous woman, never lacking attention from many men.  I was once told (after I was married and working) by a long time family friend, that my Mother was the most beautiful woman in Raleigh. I had to agree, to me, she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

Granny & Granddaddy

From what she told me, Mother said that Granny taught me to whistle before I could talk. Granny was usually singing her silly old songs, working in the kitchen with her apron always on, and from what I remember most always happy.. (although she ruled).  Sometimes she'd get in the mood to 'dance', and she'd flip that apron up, sing, and prance around the kitchen into the dining room. One of her favorite songs (I guess it was, because she sang it enough) was 'Sally Get Your Hair Cut'.. never heard it since. I personally think she made up most of what she sang.
 She cooled her homemade pies in the kitchen window on Sunday mornings..(waiting for Granddaddy and Mother to come in from church.)  I never knew my Granny to attend church, though she always had her bible nearby to read when she was resting. She always made fresh biscuits with every meal and always said the best part of the chicken was the part that went over the fence last..I tasted the tail one time..wasn't too bad!
Her favorite (and only) dirty word was "dung", and when she said it she'd just giggle.
Granny could hand stitch the finest linens and add her intricate designs. She took orders for handmade tablecloths, napkins and pillow cases, and when they were sold she'd tuck the money safely away for hard times.  She always had a little 'spare' cash
 She could get testy and feisty sometimes if we didn't behave. I loved her so dearly.
 Granddaddy, on the other hand, was easy going and calm; a beautiful man. Everybody was 'dahin', 'sweetheart' or 'precious', and I never heard him raise his voice..he left that up to Granny..:). They were total opposites.
 He was the man in my life; so caring, loving and patient. He most always had a pipe in his mouth; always wore a three piece suit with his pocket watch hanging from the fob from his vest.  My older brother now has that very watch.
 Granddaddy always went to church on Sunday, in his old T-Model Ford. Sometimes he'd let us ride on the
running board to the end of the street, then we'd run back home. When we got a little older, he took us to church with him. We weren't too old, because he passed away when I was six. (Granny poured all the wine she had made him down the toilet when he died.)  Mother said, years later, "I don't know why in the world she did that, she knew that everybody loved her homemade wine."

 Granddaddy would sit on the back porch and mix up laying mash for the hens, and when he did I'd go out there and watch him. We had a little joke going..I'd ask, ' What you making Granddaddy?' and he'd answer, ' Sweet Potato Pie, you want a taste?' and we'd just laugh. In the evenings he'd sit me in his lap and we'd play the finger game, 'William Come Trimbletoe'. I was heartsick and confused when he died, I wondered why I wasn't crying, because everyone else was. I ended up crying over his passing, and all the time I would miss not being with him, when I was 56 years old. That is odd to me. Things may have been very different for me if he'd lived just a few years longer. I loved him with my whole heart.
Above is a photo of my grandparents on their wedding day. I still miss them both.

The House

The photo above is of my mother, granddaddy, me and  my brother Chap, at Christmas time.
The house is one of Montgomery Ward's kit homes. It had the plans and materials included at a price of
around $2,300.00. The closest I can come to the actual plan is the "Allerton". This home is still standing and is now valued (2011) at $248.000.00. Originally it had three bedrooms, kitchen, dining room, living room w/fireplace, one bath and a huge pantry. There were window seats in the dining room across two windows. There was an attic and the coal heater was in a very small basement. The heat came up into the house between the kitchen and dining room through a 2'x2' heavy grate. I stood over that grate many times during the winter until my legs turned red.  I think the house has been added on to since it was sold in 1959. The lot was not large. I still have dreams about that wonderful house.
Granddaddy bought the kit when he found a job at a music store (where he bought the upright piano), and had the house built, then he and Granny moved to Raleigh from Littleton when Mother was nine years old.
  Mother told me of the old 'knick-knacks' and furniture that they left in their old place when they moved and it made me sick just thinking about what might have been left..I love antiques, especially primitive. I stopped her in mid-sentence and said, 'please, I can't bear to hear it'..so she never told me about what else that had been left behind.

Chicken, Homemade Jam & Music

My Mother and biological Dad had a short marriage and two small children thirteen months apart.  During World War II, my mother filed for divorce and she, along with my brother and me, moved in with my maternal grandparents, Russell and Lula Snell.
I don't remember ever living with my dad; however I have many fond, precious memories of growing up at 'home', with granny & granddaddy, where there was a lot of love and caring; not just from Mother, Granny and Grandaddy, but Aunt Berta (my mother's sister), and loads of their friends.
Mother had to go back to work to provide our basic needs,  therefore, granny took care of us during the day. Seems like granny was always in her kitchen, or sewing.  Granddaddy raised chickens in the back yard, so we had fried chicken once a week. He never allowed us to watch him kill a chicken, but we watched Granny boil the water and scald the feather's off.  They also had cherry, apple and pear trees plus a large fig bush, so we were never without homemade jellies, jams and granddaddy's homemade wine. And the apple tree, we climbed many times. This girl was a huge tomboy until around the age of thirteen.
Since we lived on a dead end street, there were only eleven houses with plenty of kids around our age. We always had someone to play with (besides each other.) There were hop-scotch grids up and down the sidewalks. Our favorite outside games were; Ring around the Rosy, Blind man's Bluff, Hide 'n Seek, London Bridge...you get the drift; old timey games.
When I was old enough to be enrolled in kindergarten, I went to Catholic School there. Not sure if my brother did or not. It was Sister this, Father that, but I began to learn the Catholic ways. Then I started Lewis Elementary School just one block from my house; so I walked every day...like a BIG girl. I loved elementary school, (unless the principal had to whack my palm with a ruler..but that only happened one time)..and I don't even remember what I did wrong. Oh; probably talking in class.
Mother told me once, after I was grown, that I never was a beautiful child, but my personality bubbled over.
  I do remember singing a solo on stage in kindergarten, an Irish song ;" H-A-double R-I- GAN spells Harrigan, proud of all the Irish that is in me, Pity the man who says a word agin' me...." (can't believe I still remember the words.) But I remember so many of the songs that I sang as a child, most of them taught to me by Granny, Mother or my Dad.
   We were kind of/sort of, a musical family..Mother sang and played piano and ukulele, Aunt Berta played piano, my Dad played piano, guitar, harmonica and had a beautiful voice. Granddaddy had bought an upright piano shortly after he and Granny moved to Raleigh so that Mother and Aunt Berta could take lessons. I played that same piano as a child (only by ear) and kept the piano until 1995. By then it was in pretty beaten shape and totally out of tune. I used to put newspaper behind the felts so that it would make a honky-tonk sound. Never did learn to read music..I wanted to play it 'my way'..:)

The day it all started

The day my wonderful life all started was on August 2nd, 1939, at 3:30 a.m. in Raleigh North Carolina at Rex Hospital. My birth certificate says, Joan Macon Ragland;  Mother said they made a mistake and didn't know how to spell Joanne. I am Joanne.
  How could I know all the many joys, heartaches, memories and changes my life would bring. I also had no idea that God would be through all of it with me; to comfort, guide, approve, disapprove, and lead me to where I am today.
My faith is strong. It has not always been that way. Life is all about loving, making choices that are good and bad, and learning through it all. Life is about happiness, sadness, regret, forgiveness, new life, death and hopefully acceptance that you will somehow get through it all, knowing that toward the end, you have been blessed beyond measure and knowing that Faith and Love are the two most important things.
I feel that I don't deserve to be so blessed, so richly.

This will be my story. It will be lengthy...it may seem like a novel. You don't have to read it; this is for me.  I have always put my feelings on paper, whether it be just simple thoughts, poetry, or just feelings. It helps; particularly through difficult times. But since I can't even read my own writing anymore..thanks be to my computer. ( I was around eleven in the above photo).