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Chronicles and Views - The Reader's Retreat
My eightieth birthday
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My eightieth birthday brings mullings, expectations and bittersweet nostalgia. Eighty years ago this morning, a loving mother lay very ill with a severe kidney infection which brought her into labor with a seven month fetus. The scenario was a lowly renter’s house on a cotton farm on the banks of the Coosa River near Gadsden, Alabama. This was her ninth birth although two of those ended in stillbirths. After a physician was summoned and he had delivered the tiny blue baby whose head appeared much larger than the tiny body. Fingernails had not yet formed and the total weight was just under four pounds. A sixteen year old sibling, the oldest daughter, took the infant and gingerly cleaned it and wrapped it in a light cloth. The doctor advised the mother that she must be very careful for her own life and try to overcome the kidney infection. He also told her not to be concerned about the infant because it would die. He did give the possibility that, should it live for ten days, it might survive. It did, and now I am 80 years old. I was told later that my sister and my step-grandmother, had the responsibility of caring for me for the first couple of weeks. My mother often told me that my sister would sit up nights holding and rocking me, fearing to lay me down, lest I would die. And my step-grandmother told me that I survived several days on a mixture she made of butter, sugar, and the inside soft bread of a biscuit. She would mix it up very soft and place a tiny bit on my tongue. She even accused me of smacking my lips. I suspect one might call that a rough start but I am sure it was worse on those older than I, than it was on me personally. I remember nothing of it. The first memories I have, we had moved from the river bottoms about twenty five miles eastward into Cherokee County, Alabama to a community called Gnatville. Yes, that’s true, Gnatville. I don’t have any idea who had the audacity to call it that, but it became as official as a rural community name ever does. It is still called that and even has a cemetery entrance marker with it on it. There was a two room school there and perhaps as many as twenty to twenty five families. I didn’t give much thought to it then, but now, I believe it to be one of the most beautiful areas in the world. Modest mountains, hills, vales, streams, wildlife in abundance, birds of almost all those who are of the southeast. And gnats! Many times I have seen swarms of gnats which looked like a puff of gray smoke. You could walk up to the swarm and smack your hands together in the swarm and smash hundreds. The problem with that was, then you had to search out a spot to wash your hands. The boys, five of us, farmed there, while our dad worked in constructing houses. He was a great carpenter and brick/block mason, much in demand, so our plight was stable even though we were still poor. We ate well, much more bountifully and healthy than we can now afford, because we raised 95% of what we ate. We had hogs, cows and chickens to furnish us with meat, eggs, milk and butter, we raised vegetables aplenty which we ate fresh in season and mother and our sisters canned abundantly for the winter months. All this supplemented with fresh fish and wild game on occasion. There were (according to my memory) eleven apple trees of various types which ripened from May through October, six peach trees, one quince tree, several Black Walnut and two large pecan trees. Three huge Brown Turkey fig trees, and eight to ten producing Concord grape vines. Life changed for us all while living there, the older ones began getting married and/or leaving the farm for commercial careers. One more birth occurred when I was seven, a final girl child was born in 1938. My next to oldest brother died of weakness from a peptic ulcer and pneumonia which he developed while in Iceland, in the army during World War 2. (See his memorial page at (http://hebronics.org/WWII/mem01.html) All the others were away except me, my parents and baby sister. Then in 1950, Dad died on his 60th birthday from leukemia. Fourteen months later, I was drafted for a two year tour of duty in the U.S. Army during the Koran conflict. I went kicking and screaming (not really) and I did whatever they told me to do. Providentially, I was spared active duty on any battle field. I had often prayed that I would not be forced to kill anyone, and certainly that they would not kill me. Both of those petitions were answered. I married a wonderful girl in 1955 after returning from military duty. I often wonder what type person I might be now if I had not married her. She has always been by my side, and on my side, regardless of what occurred. We always attended church services with our children and now that they have gone their way, we still attend. We are looking forward to celebrating our fifty-fifth anniversary together on December 23. Since my retirement in 1997, at age 67, I have spent my time primarily in writing articles for church bulletins, and for various other publishers, mostly online. We purchased an older home when I retired which we refurbished and spent all available funds in the process. It is old but considerably modernized with a bath and a half and six large rooms. We love it since it seems much like the olden days here. I have become much more deeply involved in Bible study and making a feeble effort to do as much good as I possibly can to help make up for those years when I, at times, became negligent in my service toward God. I have grown more confident of my prospects for life eternal with our Heavenly Father after my death and it has caused me to actually look forward to it. I no longer fear dying, not that I’m eager to leave those I love here, but with the hope of seeing them again. Age and a bit of dementia makes me have strange thoughts sometimes. I realize that humans are the only animals with a spirit soul that will live eternally, but I often think how wonderful it would be, not only to have my family together for eternity, but also to have all of my dogs who have made my life much happier with their unfeigned love and loyalty extended towards me over the years. And even my little finch which sang sweetly for me during her little life. I cannot forget her, “Little Bit”. The Lord blessed me to bring me into this world, where He did and when He did. I am thoroughly convinced that it has been the most wonderful period of time that ever was, or ever will be on this earth. I’ve seen major technical advances made, where people have progressed from almost primitive living to all manner of conveniences which have made us more comfortable and more healthy. And with the peoples of the world now so horribly divided and angry, I see very little hope of good times ahead. |