My father

My father was a railroad man. Born in 1900 in Terry, Mississippi, he was the oldest by 11 months of two boys. When he was 16 his father died and his mother and the two boys survived by truck farming for a couple of years. Then shortly before he was 20, he went to telegraph school and became a telegraph operator. He went to work for a major railroad in 1920 and had over 50 years service with them before his retirement.

He loved the railroad--everything about it. He loved the big steam engines and worked many out of the way places just so he could be around them although he could have worked in a larger office.

In 1931 he married my mother, Kathie. This was the tail end of the great depression and jobs were scarce, yet he managed to keep his seniority by getting a friend to let him work the required one day out of 6 months to hold onto it. He gave the money back to his friend and that was a well kept secret as it was against the rules. He bid in the agency in Eden, Mississippi and we moved there. Then oil was discovered in Yazoo County and the agency came open in Anding, Mississippi and he bid that in. My mother and I were already there as my grandmother had passed away and we had to go and take care of my grandfather, who was alone.

We were allowed to ride anywhere we wanted free on a pass and my mother and I used to ride the train a lot.

Dad was a rather short, slender man and full of life and energy. He always had something new going on. Once he decided to plant gladiola as he loved flowers. But unlike most people who would have simply planted a couple of dozen, he planted an acre of them. They were the most beautiful I have ever seen with each stalk blooming up to 20 blossoms. The only problem was that we had trouble finding homes for all the beautiful flowers as he cut them! Then the next year he changed from flowers to garlic. And planted the whole acre in it. It surely was a difference in the smell of the place that year. Garlic is very pretty when it is growing and blooming though so we all enjoyed seeing it. The problem with that was that no one else, at all, wanted any of it.

In a way, he was a strange man. He was friendly to everyone but hard to really know. I knew he loved me but he never once told me he did. When my mother would ask did he love her, his answer was always "I married you, didn't I?" My mother told me he used to take me when I was a baby down to an old tree on the property and sing to me in the evening. I was the only child they had. When I got a little older, he took me to work with him every day. At that time he was working about 15 miles away and I would spend the whole time with him and he played with me when he had time.

The way my parents met was when he was sent to Anding to work and he boarded at my grandmother's house. He was 8 years older than she was and she immediately loved this young man, who at that time looked a bit like Clark Gable. She was engaged to another young man but soon broke that engagement to be with Dad.

I grew up with his love for the railroad and followed in his footsteps as a telegraph operator. Once you work for a railroad it never gets out of your blood. He missed it after his retirement and all these years later, I still miss it too.

These were just some random thoughts about my life with my father, who I loved dearly, but never quite understood.

He was a good man and I miss him although he has been gone 40 years this month of October 2009.

Dear Nannie

I lost my mother in 2001. This is a tribute to her. She was one of the most beautiful souls I ever knew.



For a long time now I have wanted to write this to you. Remember how when I was working away all those years we wrote each other almost daily and talked often.

I wonder now if you ever knew how much I admired you for your courage in going on for 30 years after Dad was killed in the wreck and after your severe injuries in that wreck caused so needlessly by a drunken driver with no brakes.

I remember so many things about those 30 years about you and your acceptance and coping.

I did the best I could in taking care of you through your 5 month stay in the hospital and then when you came home you had already gotten an automobile ready for the day when you would again be able to drive.

You didn't have much formal education but you had a lot of smarts. True, I had to keep your books for you and do a lot of things most women can do for themselves, but Dad kept you down by not allowing you to do these things. I know now he wanted to take care of his "Southern Belle" and that is always what you were...a person to be cherished and cared for. I used to think he was wrong but now I know he was just doing the best he could.

I admire you for the way you always looked so pretty in your nice clothes when you would come in from church and I would be at your house to spend some time with you. I wish I had said to you "How pretty you look today". I always knew I would never be beautiful like you were but it didn't matter.

I remember coming home from school and starting to call your name when I got close to the house walking and then running so I could tell you what had happened that day. I remember how you played with me like you were my age and my friend and not my mother.

I remember all the funny little things you did like the time you locked the keys in the car and left it running all night and calling the next morning to ask Aubrey if he would come down and not bring me as you were afraid I would fuss at you. There was no way he was going to get out of the house without me and when I saw you I burst out laughing. It did no harm to the car.

It was said that you were not the smartest gal around but you knew how to love and that is really what is important in this life. To know how to give and receive love.

I admired you for going on with your life and for going on even at 90 to the dances we played and you always having a man to dance with and go places with.

I admired you when you had the broken hip and the stroke and how you and I together coped with it for over 3 years until you left me. Those times were hard and broke you financially and I also had to put in a lot of money but I thanked God your mind was still intact and we could communicate as always. After you left Aubrey said he didn't think I could make it without you. It has been very hard but I hope you would be proud of me.

You really should have been born when Southern ladies sat under magnolia trees and sipped mint juleps.

I hope you heard the words I said at your funeral when asked if I had anything to say about what you taught me and I said "She taught me to love". To me, this is the greatest gift a parent can give a child and you gave it to me.

Thank you for being my hero. I miss you.

My Beloved Aubrey

I have wanted to write about Aubrey for some time now but old memories are still so much in my mind, it was hard to do.


Aubrey Roberts was born in Utica, MS in 1927, the second of seven children. The oldest child, a girl, died shortly after birth. Back in those days a lot of women lost their firstborn because of lack of medical care.

When he was eight, his father was killed in an accident leaving him to help his mother care for the younger five. Their first knowledge of their father's death came when they got on the school bus to go home, the uncaring driver told him "Boy, your daddy was killed today".

This placed a big responsibility on a boy this age, but he shouldered it.He plowed fields for a dollar a day, worked in a store on Saturdays dipping ice cream and delivering groceries, delivered ice and anything else he could find to make some money.

At an early age, he decided he wanted to be a musician and ordered a cheap guitar from Sears Roebuck, which is still hanging on the wall. Survival of the family was the first priority of he and his mother. Somehow they managed to raise and make successful people out of his 3 brothers and 2 sisters.

He started a band and taught his brothers to play with him and they started playing country dances to supplement the meager family income.

From there, after he graduated from high school he was drafted in the army and sent to El Paso, Texas, where he got a job in his off time playing in a small lounge. When his tour of duty was up, he continued to play music, and played virtually all over the country. He played guitar, fiddle, drums, and piano quite well. He played with a big band sound for many years on drums, and then formed his own band, "Aubrey Roberts & The Good Ole Boys" and played with everyone who was somebody and lot who weren't. He also sang really well. At one time he had 3 radio shows going at the same time around the Jackson and Vicksburg, Mississippi area. I kept the band and we still play special events, especially the Snowflake Ball, which is put on by the Governor's office in Jackson for seniors and handicapped people each December. His grandson, Jesse Gandy, is now the bandleader.

His first love was the fiddle and he requested that a bow be placed in his coffin. I put it in his hand and laid his hat, which he always wore, on his chest.

It has always been almost impossible to make a living in music in Mississippi so Aubrey had to take a regular job also. After his retirement, he spent a lot of time playing for charity events and won the citizen of the year award for his work with the United Way playing for senior citizens and the handicapped. There are certificates hanging all over the walls for his work in this capacity.

He was married and had four daughters and did well in music over the years.

I was very proud to call him my husband.

A Love Story

My aunt died at the age of 87 several years ago. Among her memorabilia I found an exchange of notes between her and her husband of over 30 years. I used it in a writing class and am posting it here.

Gussie met Louis at the beginning of the school year in 1919.

She was 16 and he was a young teacher who was beginning his first year of teaching.

He boarded at her parent's home so she was thrown in constant contact with him.

It was easy for a sensitive young woman to fall in love with this handsome teacher.

In a few months they married. He quit teaching and became a carpenter and

then a contractor. They were always moving as he built houses they lived in for

a while, then sell them and move on to another one he built.

Finally, after about 20 years of this he built a house neither of them could bear to leave.

Although they both loved children, they never had any of their own.

They grew closer and closer as the years went by and they lived alone

just the two of them. When he would go out in the morning to work she always had a hot breakfast for him.

He always managed to get home in time for lunch with her.

In the evenings they would sit and talk.

Sunday's they went to church and both sang in the choir.

Sunday afternoon they would pack a picnic lunch and take a long ride into the country. He always kept several bags of peanuts in the car to eat as they rode along and feed

the squirrels when they stopped. He was a gentle, kind man.

When she would start talking too much he would just look at her and say "Now, Miss Gus" and

she knew to stop.

When Gussie was 48, Louis developed a brain tumor and had to have surgery.

She took him home and diligently nursed him, but he never recovered.

About 5 months later he died leaving her almost totally without funds from

paying doctor and hospital bills but she never complained. She took a job in a kindergarten and stayed there for several years.

Then she started sitting in a nursing home and helping the people there.

At age 80 she had to retire from this due to a health problem.

She died when she was 88 years old.

One of the last things she said to anyone was that she missed Louis so much.

She still mourned his death, even after over 40 years.

Her niece, who was her only kin, was going through some of her belongings and

came across a letter written on an envelope after they were married for 30 years.

It read "Baby, I am sorry I was not here to fix your lunch today,

but I had to go to the meeting. Your lunch is in the oven.

You will never know how much I love you."

And on the back in his handwriting "I missed you today, come by the job if you have time this afternoon.

I love you too."

When her niece read these words she knew, possibly for the first time,

how deep the love between her aunt and uncle.

She knew the meaning of "A Love Story".