Housing Our Home

By Virginia Pentecost

It takes a long time to live ninety years, but it can be done with Gods grace and with the right partner in life. These are author Virginia Pentecosts recollections after losing that partner a few years ago, which have served to soften the grief of that loss. On some not-too-distant day, she will join her partner, Miller, and they will watch things continue to unfold from a much better perspective. For now, these are stories for those who helped her live themand for anyone who stands amazed at the goodness of life and the tremendous blessing of a loving and gracious Heavenly Father.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Sep 27, 2011
• ISBN: 9781449724153

Virginia Pentecost

Virginia Fly was born in 1921 to a Madison County Tennessee farming couple with deep roots in their small community. She graduated as valedictorian in a class of eight, married Miller Pentecost for love and for life, and documents here the adventures of large family and successful business.

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Copyright © 2011 Virginia Pentecost

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ISBN: 978-1-4497-2415-3 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4497-2413-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4497-2414-6 (hc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011914872

Printed in the United States of America

WestBow Press rev. date: 10/17/2011

Contents

Preface

Years

Question

Halloween Night

School

School Days and Haircut

Awe

Airplane Ride

Character

College or Career?

The Bible

God’s Word

Grandmother’s Family

Love’s Continuation

Dating and Daddy

Music

What Is Love?

Friday Night Movie

with Miller

The Waiting

Wedding and Honeymoon

Rationing:

"Lucky Strike Green

Has Gone to War."

Highland Avenue

Twilight Zone

Spring Creek

Spring Creek Reemerged

Giving

Sea Isle Road

Priorities

Church Life

To Boyd

The Sanctuary

Bible Study Notes

A Sunday School Lesson

Who Is Chosen?

Prophecy in the

Old Testament

Your God Is Too Small

The Twelve Disciples

The Music of Heaven

Summer Rain

Hale Road

Guess Which Daughter

School Activities

Thirty-Fifth

Anniversary Musing

Virginia’s Talk at

Power & Tel meeting

Birthdays

Moray Cove

The Strand

Travelitis

Tours

Travel

Babysitting Grandchildren

Germantown Road

Dogs

Weebles

Wrinkles

Men Wrinkles

Foundation Stones

Horseshoe Bend

A Walk on the Beach

Ocean Landings Vacation

Ocean Landings

Ritz Caribe

A Drop of Water

Ritz Caribe

To Mary

Survey

Sleep

Winding Down

Rivertrail Cove

A Message about Old Age

The Landing

Souvenirs

The Villas at Cordova

Memory

Everybody Has a

Mr. P Story

In Restrospect

9781449724139_txt1.pdf

Psalm 127

Preface

To say that God does not have a sense of humor is to diminish the possibility of fellowship with Him. While we value the friend who lets us cry on a shoulder, it is the friend we laugh with that brings us joy and kindles our spirits. If God created us to fellowship with Him, He certainly intended for us to laugh with Him.

We need only a look at creation. He made the pig short, fat, and squat with bristly hide and a face only a mother could love; then, as if to give the pig a humorous dimension, he added a cute little curly tail and a prancy walk. Take a look at the giraffe. God gave him a lovely, colorful, soft coat and a graceful body, then stretched out his neck to an impossible length, and set a goofy-looking little head on top.

When He came to His highest creation, He made us different colors and sizes, but while He made us remarkably alike, He made us remarkably different as well. The ability to read and write and be creative distinguishes us from the rest of the animal kingdom, and it is here that He drew the sharpest differences. It is not so much that he gave us different characteristics, He just allowed us to shape our own lives; some are sad, some are happy, some troubled, others blessed. He gave each of us a quality that we often fail to use, the ability to laugh at ourselves.

Who has not, at some point, said, I should write a book? A few people do indeed write their life stories; others have it written by someone else, but most are never put on paper. When I sat down at the computer, I clearly heard a chuckle and a still, small voice say, There goes Virginia. I knew she would. We shared a good laugh at my audacity, and then He said, Go ahead; I will help you.

Years

It is hard to believe I’m seventy-five

And Miller is seventy-seven.

Statistics show that, like it or not,

We’re knocking on the doors of heaven.

On balance, they’ve been simply wonderful years,

Fifty-two of them spent together.

Despite some dark clouds and raindrops along,

It’s been mostly sunny weather.

God planned us together, a matched pair,

That was evident right from the start.

I was ambitious and focused

And Miller was focused and smart.

Two farm kids, we lived close to nature

And brought up on the ethic of work.

Not piddling jobs we got paid for—

But the chastening rod when we’d shirk.

The depression helped shape our teen years,

The worst our country has known.

Our values concerning money

Were deep set by the time we were grown.

The stock market crashed and brought chaos;

Wealth evaporated overnight.

Bread lines and soup kitchens were crowded—

The once wealthy wept at their plight.

Most farmers owned homes and had gardens

So we fared a lot better than most.

We did not have much to begin with

So there was not a whole lot to be lost.

It seemed to go on forever—

Actually it did last close to ten years

Then war clouds over Europe

Turned our thoughts to very real fears.

Women took over the workforce,

Young men were sent where there was strife,

As depression had taught us about money,

War would teach the value of life.

For four years our lives spun out of control,

We danced to a crazy tune.

Expediency, code word of the day, stirred the world

Like a giant spoon.

The Canal Zone and European Theater were places

Miller was sent.

The War Food Administration in Atlanta

Was where my days were spent.

Stars were put up in windows, marking families

Who would never forget,

"The Secretary of War desires me

To express his deep regret."

When peace came, God pulled back the curtain;

He gave us a peek at incredible sights.

We had just touched the hem of creation;

Before us were phenomenal heights.

I do not use the term inventions;

There is nothing new under the sun.

But God helped us put stuff together,

Split it, or make it run.

We learned to go faster and farther,

Technology experienced a boom

At home we worshipped convenience;

Push-button gadgets in every room.

For us there was more excitement—

God had a precious blessing in store.

He’d prepared us a special family;

Children and grandchildren galore.

Three quarters of a century we’ve been here—

There are so many things to recall.

But when we look back at the years we’ve spent

It doesn’t seem long at all.

We have lived our time with a sense of awe;

Subdue the world we were told.

Dominion over the sea and air?

Is the end about to unfold?

We now live at a time, in the scheme of things,

When we feel left behind—and yet,

We’re thankful our lives spanned exciting years

From Morse Code to the Internet.

Virginia Pentecost

1996

Question

Where did I come from mommy?

Today’s answer is plain as can be.

Eighty years ago when I asked my mother

She just smiled…

And said a stork brought me.

Virginia Pentecost

August 2004

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Oscar and Eunice Fly, 1930

Halloween Night

It was a cold, clear Halloween night. The harvest moon bathed the little community in an eerie glow and the thought of ghosts and goblins hiding in the bushes did not seem all that far-fetched. It was before the candy companies thought up Trick or Treat so the little ones were all sleeping soundly. Only the boys, who were not children anymore but clearly not adults, were gathered behind the country store. Someone would have snitched his daddy’s sack of RJR smoking tobacco with its accompanying little pack of cigarette papers and untrained fingers were making lumpy rolls to smoke. Several options were on the table as to what mischief they would choose for a Halloween prank. Parents well knew that when they said goodnight to these boys, the boys were covered up in bed with their clothes on and would sneak out for some fun and return in the wee hours of the morning full of excitement.

Caution was ruling the decision as the boys remembered the prank of last year that caused such a stir in the community. Turning over an outhouse or two seemed innocent enough or putting cane-bottom chairs on the barn roof seemed okay, but not very much fun. Tying a cow on the front porch of Mr. Ward’s store or moving one of them from one pasture to another had gotten out of hand last year. One member of that assembly remembered some green paint he had left over from painting his mother’s lawn chairs and suggested they paint one of the cows and hitch her to the signpost at the corner by the blacksmith shop. That next morning, on Halloween, the boys wandered innocently out to enjoy the fun only to find all the men in the community milling around a very dead green cow. In a small crossroads community like Spring Creek, it was easy to figure out who the perpetrators were. Several of those still remember some very warming licks on the seat of their pants and the size of the hole they had to dig and how long it took to work off the cost of the farmer’s cow.

Moving forward to the following Halloween, the same boys were up to the same devilment, but to add to the delay in deciding on a prank for tonight, there were two men walking up and down the road, and as well, the country doctor in his horse-drawn buggy was making several trips between two of the houses in Spring Creek. Mother and her best friend, Annie, had made the discovery that they were both expecting babies close the same date. It would be Mother’s second and Miss Annie’s first and only. They had not been able to share much of their experience because in those days no one discussed an expectant mother’s condition and she was certainly not seen out in public during the time of her confinement, meaning the time after she began to show. The telephone was not an option, either. It was only used for emergency messages and when it rang, all eight members of the party line might pick up the receiver to hear the news. There was a measure of privacy; when a call was made, only four of the eight phones rang. Our ring was four long tones while some of the eight had a mix of longs and shorts.

On this particular day, my mother, my grandmother, Mammy, and my spinster aunt, Hattie, had been slicing apples all day and putting them in flour sacks to dry in the sun. Flour was bought in twenty-five and fifty-pound flowered cloth sacks and the sacks were washed and used for everything from children’s dresses to bandaging skinned knees or cut fingers. By bedtime, Mother was sure her time had come and not too long afterward, Daddy was sent to fetch Dr. Brashear.

The full moon had worked its magic on Miss Annie as well; Daddy found her husband already at the doctor’s office. After discussing the matter with the two anxious fathers, it was decided that, since we were closer, he would check on Mother and then proceed to the next birthing. It did not take long to determine that Mother was in for a long night, so he went out and delivered petite little Marjorie and then returned to spend the rest of a harrowing night with us. I was apparently king-sized and determined to make my appearance headed the wrong direction.

Nowhere has technology advanced more than in the medical field. It is difficult today to imagine the limited knowledge and tools available to doctors in 1921. Quinine, turpentine, aspirin, and castor oil were about it. Yet God made his creation to withstand more than we think we can, and He helps us through the difficult times. Mammy plied everyone with hot, black coffee, Daddy put cold compresses on Mother’s forehead, and Aunt Hattie rocked my three-year-old sister Hon, who had been awakened by the activity, while the doctor sat by the bed and waited patiently for a small bone to break so I could make my way into the world.

I emerged large and beet red with a head full of black hair and a voice that immediately woke my sister again. They sent Daddy to the barn to get the thumb-scales he used to weigh sacks of cotton, but before he could get his jacket on, they realized Mother was almost in shock and needed attention, so I was never weighed. Lacking Friends and Survivor to watch on TV and talk about, people repeated family stories over and over. I heard the grim details of this one until I developed a complex about it. I was certain that I caused the back pain my mother suffered and I am certain the guess at my weight went up each time it was told.

Two babies in one night created a stir among the ladies in the neighborhood and caused a flurry of visits to see the newborns. Those visiting Mother first related to Miss Annie what a big baby Eunice had, and those visiting Miss Annie first described the petite little baby at the Edwards’ house. It was hard to keep the amazement out of their compliments and both mothers cried for about a week; Miss Annie thinking something was wrong with Marjorie and Mother wondering if she had produced a monster.

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Virginia and Martha Fly, 1926

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Mattie Fly with Martha 1919

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Oscar and Edna Fly, 1893

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Virginia, 1st grade picture, 1928

School

The most hated law made by men who rule

Is that children age six must start to school.

Uh, uh, think again. That rule’s not for me.

I’ll think of something, just you wait and see.

I had a new dress with bloomers to match

And a flowered book satchel with a fancy latch.

I had a pencil and tablet and my Baby Ray book.

But I didn’t have courage and that’s what it took.

They cajoled, and they coaxed, and started to beg,

But they could not peal me off of my momma’s leg.

I finally gave up. I had a plan, they’d see.

So I loosened my grip on my mother’s knee.

Now just look, you are going to have so much fun.

Not shut up in this room with Attila the Hun.

But they dried my eyes and fixed my hair

And sat me down in that dumb little chair.

Then Miss Daisy, thinking how easily she’d won,

Turned her mind to things that had to be done.

But as soon