More Precious Memories

By Loyd Gilbert Gilley

At 71 years, my yesterdays are many and thanks to my God, they continue to grow in numbers, with each blessed in many ways.
I came from a humble beginning in the backwoods of Jackson County Florida on a 40 acre, one mule farm with no electricity or any of the conveniences it provided. Water came from an open well, food was cooked on a wood stove, and kerosene lamps were used for light. Groceries were obtained from a rolling store, or grown on the farm. Clothes were ordered by mail from Sears & Roebuck or stitched by Mama on an old Singer sewing machine. Trips to town were on a mule drawn wagon.

I was blessed with a wonderful family and a home filled with love and caring. We were poor folks but I never felt poor a day in my life.

Today I am blessed with precious memories from my earliest years. I have grown with experiences and had a successful life and wonderful family.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jun 15, 2013
• ISBN: 9781939472090

Book preview

Birthday

Dedication

I dedicate these stories and this book to Marilyn Rae DeRousse Gilley, my wife and my life for over fifty years. Marilyn has been at my side with loving support and encouragement, when all we had was each other. Now that we have everything, she is still there with her love, support and encouragement.

I will paraphrase an old love song, Marilyn is the wind beneath my wings, she enables me to soar like an eagle, and fly much higher than I ever could without her. She is my strength and encouragement, and the first read of my stories. She is my life!

Marilyn is a world class mother and grandmother. You can see the admiration, love and respect, in the eyes of our children and grandchildren. You can hear it in their voice. If you hesitate, just for a moment, you can feel it, deep down in your bones.

Thank you Marilyn, I love you!

Loyd

Art, throughout the book is by: Bradley Scott Mauger, My Grandson

Prologue

At 71 years, my yesterdays are many and thanks to my God, they continue to grow in numbers, with each blessed in many ways.

I came from a humble beginning in the backwoods of Jackson County Florida, on a 40 acre, one mule farm, with no electricity or any of the convinces it provided. Water came from an open well, food was cooked on a wood stove, kerosene lamps were used for light, groceries were obtained from a rolling store, and clothes were ordered from Sears & Roebuck. Trips to town were on a mule drawn wagon. I was blessed with a wonderful family and a home filled with love and caring.

Today I am blessed with precious memories from my earliest days. I have grown with experiences and have had a successful life. There are few regrets.

They do not come to me in any special order, and the more I write my stories the more I realize there are many blank spots. I cannot be held responsible for the things I do not remember, I just leave it up to God to tell me what to write and when. I published my firstbookBackfields of My Memory in February 2012. I am so pleased with its success and acceptance.

If there was ever a day in my life when I felt poor, I simply do not remember that day.

I realize my memories are not flawless, but my stories are true to the best of my memory, except for a few spots where fiction crept in. You will identify those spots.

Please forgive my spelling and punctuation.

I did use some words Mr. Webster never heard of.

Thank you for reading my stories.

Going Home Again

Thursday, August 2, 2012 I dropped Marilyn off at the Orlando Airport this morning at 5 AM. She is going on a 20 day tour of Vietnam with the Over Seas Travel Group. About twelve good folks will meet in Bangkok, Thailand to start their tour. Someone asked why she was going to Vietnam and I responded, I do not know if she is going to clean up the last war, or start a new one. There were no more questions.

I am going home again to see and spend some time with my family. My batteries need to be recharged, and they will be. About 4:00 PM Central Standard time, I am headed west on 1-10, near Chattahoochee, Florida. Just across the Apalachicola River is Jackson County and the home of my roots. My heart is filled again, with joy, in anticipation of seeing my brothers, sisters, their families and our lifelong friends. I can't explain it, but deep down I feel Mama and Daddy know I am coming home again. When I get home I will not see them, but I will feel their presence when our family gets together. They are always there, watching over us and very proud of what their little family has become.

Since my Going Home story of February 2010, there have been some changes in our family. My niece Alissa and her husband Bryan had a little boy. Grant Lawrence Steele was born on tax day, April 15, 2012. Just prior to his birth I was invited to a little bench warming, or baby shower in his honor. Someone whispered in my ear, the appropriate gift for this occasion would be a fifty dollar bill. The analogy was since Ulysses S. Grants picture was on a fifty dollar bill; it would be the appropriate gift for our little Grant. At the time I couldn't help but wonder why the hell they did not just name him George.

Grant Lawrence Steal

Little Grant turned out better than I expected, much better, and stole a special spot in my heart; I did not know was there. We are going to have that Dutch uncle conversation soon, where I give him the running rules for the rest of his life. I hope I have the opportunity to teach him how to spit, cuss, chew, and pee over the fence. Ever little boy needs to know those things and as the patriarch of the family, that is my responsibility.

Nataley Hope Nobles, on my lap

Soon after the last story, nephew Ben and Tiffany Nobles, had a little girl, Nataley Hope Nobles. Now Nataley and I have had a chance to bond and I think we have a good thing going. She is quiet a little lady and I think she is slowly taking charge, over her older brothers, Landon and Trinity. She has that take charge attitude of her Aunt Faye and I think she will be the next queen of the family.

At the last writing the old river was over its banks and rushing to the bay. Today it is just about dry with many little islands. The drought up north seems to have taken its toll on this old river. As I exit I-10 and travel through the farm country, I noticed the cotton is about a foot high with very few blooms. The peanuts look good but the vines are not meeting in the middle yet. The crops are far from being ready for harvest. When I was a school aged boy we picked the cotton, shook the dirt out, and stacked peanuts in late August, before school started after Labor Day. There was some scrap cotton picked in September, after school hours, for extra pocket money. And the big red peanut pickers may not make it into the field until September. By the first of October the crops were in, and the revivals, camp meetings and prayer meetings started. The harvest money had to be properly distributed.

The crops I see today will not be ready for harvest, for at least two months. I think it must have something to do with the new harvesting equipment we have today. The crops can be harvested anytime, and student labor is not as crucial. We will see cotton and peanuts in the fields in November and even into December.

Tonight is poker night; actually poker night is just about any night I show up with a little loose change in my pocket. Tonight I will play poker with Larry and our friends: Ralph Hobbs, Buddy Daniels, Marion Mayo, Gene Wester, Dan Pelt, Pat Wilkinson, Jim Wycoff and others. I will not get the same special considerations in the poker game; I get on a fishing trip with my brothers. The poker is cut throat, and I can lose my money, by myself, with little remorse from my friends. Little do the boys know that I bring the money, planning to lose, as I cannot keep up with the games they play or the ever changing rules they make up! If I accidently win, I give their money to my Grandchildren. It is great fun whether I win or lose, I enjoy the game and I am so grateful for the fellowship.

Friday morning Larry made me a darn good breakfast of Register brand country, smoked, pork sausage and eggs. It was delicious; Faye and Eddie Paul are down in Brevard County, babysitting their new grandson, Grant. They will be coming home on Saturday. Jerry and Linda are camping up at Lake Eufaula, on the Georgia side. That is a beautiful lake and they have a brand new camper. They spend a lot of time there, catching tubs full of brim and catfish.

After breakfast Larry asks Do you want to go fishing in Lake Seminole, it looks like it is going to be a hot day, if we are going, we need to get a move on.

If we catch a bunch of fish, and we probably will, we will then have to clean them and fry them for supper. That will mess up our little afternoon nap.

After a minute, I suggested I feel a little wanderlust and would like to drive around and look at things. If we ride up to Lake Eufaula, I could see Jerry's new camper and I have never seen that lake either. If we time our visit just right, we could be there just as Jerry gets his catch fried, and have supper with them.

I could see that Larry agreed with my idea. He said If we do that, we need to call Kaye and Harry to see if they want to ride up there with us. First we called Linda and asked if they were in the mood for company and she invited us to come on up. We promised to check things out and call her back with the body count. We called Kaye on her cell phone; she and Bill were in Tallahassee visiting some relatives of Bills. We called Harry and he said he really would like to go, but he was babysitting two grandchildren. I will call you back in five minutes In five minutes Harry called back to say he and grandson Daymon would like to go with us. In a few minutes, Trent came by and volunteered to ride up there too. Larry called Linda back to report five of us were on our way. Linda asked if we wanted fish or steak.

My response was Feed the steak to the dogs, I want fried fish She advised that supper would be served at 3:00 PM CST We picked up Harry and Daymon in Chattahoochee. Larry drove my van as it was big enough for five of us to be comfortable. About half way up I noticed Larry fooling with the radio.

Me, brothers Harry, Jerry, and Larry in back and sisters Faye and Kaye in front

I reached over and turned on my CD player.

A few weeks before, Marilyn and I had been in Branson, Missouri and attended a Mickey Gilley concert. While there I purchased a couple of Mickey's albums including a double album of good old southern gospel music. On that disc is: I'll fly Away, Precious Memories, Old Country Church, and seventeen other great southern gospel songs by Mickey. That music lifts my spirits and I love it. I did not realize until then, Larry and Harry also enjoyed that music. We listened to that CD the rest of our trip. I do not know if Trent and Daymon liked it or not, they took a little nap. That music was a blessing to Larry, Harry and me. They both expressed an interest in getting a copy of the CD. When I got home and told Marilyn about the trip she said They have birthdays coming up, why don't I order them a copy of the CD for their birthdays? They were delivered at Harry's birthday party on October 19. We got a copy for Jerry and Linda as well.

It was a nice drive through the country roads, as Larry was doing the driving I just laid back and enjoyed the beautiful farms and ranches. We arrived at the camp site just about 30 minutes before supper time. The lake was beautiful and the camper was very nice. Jerry and his long time friend Bobby O'Brian had caught 85 brim that morning, cleaned and cooked them for supper. They were very fresh and delicious. Bobby and his wife Joanne had their camper parked next door to Jerry and Linda.

The most moving thing was when we pulled up to the camp site, a large poster of my book Backfields of My Memory was posted out front. Jerry and Linda were advertising and selling copies of my book. It was a moving moment for me, and more moving when Jerry handed me $45 for the three books he had sold.

We had a delicious supper and sat around for a while visiting with Jerry, Linda, Bobby and Joanne. When it was time to leave, Linda put the left over fish in a sack and handed them to me. I finished them off the following day and they were still delicious. I do not know why God has blessed me in so many ways. I am grateful!

Landon

Landon Ramey Nobles is my great nephew and the grandson of my sister Kaye. He got that middle name from my daddy and there is a special place in my heart for him.

Landon Ramey Nobles

When I was writing stories for my book Backfields of My Memory starting in May 2009 I mailed, e-mailed and delivered copies of the stories to my family in Jackson County. I was looking for feedback and acceptance. Trinity Landon's older step brother immediately took interest, reading the stories and asking for more of them. He regularly asked when the book would be finished.

Landon did not express any special interest in my stories and I credited that with his young age. As soon as I received the first shipment of books in February of 2012, I shipped a box to Faye to be distributed to the family. When Landon heard about the books he insisted his grandmother (Nana) drive him to Grand Ridge to get his personal copy. On his way home he sat in the back seat and read the stories to his grandmother. He was only seven years old and when he got to a shady word he paused to say Nana, I am not allowed to say this word and continued reading. This made me realize that I should choose my words better, as young people might be reading my book. I was so proud of his interest in my stories. I know the younger generation has a better understanding of our lives and their roots.

I later delivered two hard copies of the book to each school library in the area. One day when Kaye went to pick Landon up from school she noticed a copy of my book displayed on the counter, in the reception area. Landon pointed out that Uncle Loyd had donated books to his school library.

We never know who is listening, who is interested, or who cares, until we put it out there. I encourage everyone to write their stories. It is not necessary a book is published; just record your life and your stories in a journal. Somewhere down the line there is going to be someone who really cares and wants to know more about their roots and you.

Me and Grandma Bet

The year was 1950, Granddaddy Willie had died in March 1949 and Grandma Bet lived as a widow with her sons J.B. (Jimmy Bartow), Ralph and Robbie Joe in the old home place. Uncle J.B. gave up his job working at the Florida State Hospital in Chattahoochee to come home and run the farm. The farm was a two mule, forty acre operation and a full time job for one man. However J.B. did go back and work part time at the hospital after the crops had been gathered, during the months of October, November and December. Ralph and Robbie Joe could handle the lighter farm chores of feeding and taking care of the farm animals when there was not a lot of plowing going on. J.B. worked in the kitchen as a cook and stayed at the barracks provided by the hospital. He came home when he had a couple days off. He caught the Greyhound bus from Chattahoochee to Four Points, between Sneads and Grand Ridge, and walked home from there.

It was a struggle and hardship for everyone to fill the void left by Granddaddy's death but everyone pulled together, worked and prayed together and it all worked out.

I do not know why 1950 was different but I got a new, brown, Easter outfit. It was a pretty, light brown, button up, collared shirt, and a pair of brown pants, a little darker than the shirt but it looked good together, with a matching brown belt. My shoes were already brown, when I shined them up; I was a good looking little brown sport. I was so proud of my new Easter outfit and so proud to wear it to Sunday school on Easter Sunday. I do not remember where the money came from but I would not be surprised if Grandma Gilley was involved. I thought then and I know now, I was her favorite of 36 grandchildren and sometimes she just did things for me. I have a few cousins that will argue with me about being her favorite, but then that is their problem. I know darn well, I was. It could have been because I was the best lookin one of the bunch.

Mama's second oldest brother, Rubin had gone off to the army and while based in Rapid City, South Dakota he married Mary. Aunt Mary was a beautiful, long legged, blond with German ancestry. They lived in Rapid City for a while after he got out of the army, but decided they would like to live in Florida nearer Uncle Rubin's family. Uncle Rubin's business training was in automobile body repair and jobs in Jackson County were not available. They moved to Tallahassee where he found a job at a body shop.

Uncle Ruben and Aunt Mary talked Grandma Bet into coming over to Tallahassee for a little visit. Grandma did not feel comfortable traveling alone so she invited me to go with her. At that point I had only traveled across the Apalachicola River a couple times to visit Aunt Daughty and her family in Chattahoochee. Otherwise my entire life had been limited to Jackson County. I jumped at the opportunity; after all, I had a new brown outfit I could wear.

J.B. drove Grandma and me to the bus station at Sneads, on the mule and wagon. Ole Nell and Queen did not walk fast enough and I thought we would never get to the station, but we did. J.B. pulled the mules up to the pump stand in Sneads and we waited on the wagon until the bus came. J.B. went in a little office and bought the tickets and I never experienced that part of the trip.

When the bus arrived Grandma and I climbed aboard the bus, with our little bag of clothes and stuff. We selected the seat directly behind the driver. As the driver closed the door he started calling out the various stops along the way: Chattahoochee, Gretna, Quincy Havana, Lake Jackson, and Tallahassee. There were three or four more stops on the way but I do not remember what they were, nor can I find them on the map today. It seemed that we stopped at ever little crossroad along the way, sometimes folks got on and sometimes folks got off the bus. It was a great adventure for me; I just drank in all the new places in the world, I had never been. I just admired the beautiful farms, pasture land, horses and cows along the way. Over near Quincy I thought the folks must be rich, as everything was so lush and beautiful. The pastures were covered with beautiful crimson clover, and the horses were beautiful thoroughbreds, I was most impressed, and couldn't help but think those horses had never pulled a plow or a wagon. The most amazing thing was the shade covered tobacco fields. I heard a man in the seat behind us explain shade tobacco to his wife. He said The tobacco grown under that shade is used for the wrapper on cigars. It is the finest quality and has no bug stains or holes in the leaves. The shade netting was made from what looked to be a big cheese cloth that covered many acres of tobacco. Along the side of the covered fields were large barns used to cure the tobacco. In later years I jumped at the chance to come to this area and work in the shade tobacco fields for a few days. See story Shade Tobacco.

All along the way I kept my face glued to the window of the bus, admiring everything I could see. I dreamed that someday I might have a beautiful farm with large barns, lush crimson clover pasture, and animals like I saw along the way.

Chattahoochee was a large place compared to the back woods I came from, but when we got to Havana I thought we were moving on up in the world. I looked and admired everything I could see from the window of the bus. It was all new to me and a big part of my earlier education. When we got to Tallahassee I wondered if New York City could possibly be larger than this. When our bus pulled into the Greyhound Bus station I saw Uncle Rubin and Aunt Mary standing outside of the station, waiting for us. It gave me a warm feeling and I was so glad to see them.

After the hugging and kissing we walked back to their apartment, it was only a couple blocks, and was not much of a walk at all. They lived in one large room in a big old boarding house. The hall was large and I could see the building was three stories high. Uncle Rubin and Aunt Mary lived on the first floor, about half way down this large hallway. On the wall I could see a telephone, I knew what it was but I do not think I had ever seen one before, except pictures in the Farm and Ranch magazine.

Their room was large and very clean and had a good smell; I wondered how Aunt Mary kept it smelling so good. There was a double bed, some furniture and a little closet for the clothes. On one of the chest was a hot plate, coffee pot and a toaster. I did not see a refrigerator or ice box; I think Aunt Mary kept the cold stuff in the refrigerator of the lady who owned the boarding house. Everything was neat as a pin and in place. Grandma and I slept on Uncle Ruben and Aunt Mary's bed, and they slept down the hall in a vacant room. They had made arrangements with the landlady to do that. The building had a large front porch