It Takes Three

By Bill Noble

I wrote this book as a autobiography (Memoirs) for which I am giving tribute to my biological mother and two stepmothers who assisted in raising me from infant to adulthood. My father gained custody of me at the age of two (2) and raised me with the help of my two stepmothers. Growing up as a child was a journey for me and my mother(s) gave me specific gifts to prevail and succeed. I thank them for their loving, caring, and sharing attitudes toward me. I forgive my dad for his abusiveness during my childhood as he did not know what he was doing. However, he had the insight to choose women who were remarkable human beings. Children from dysfunctional family backgrounds will hopefully enjoy reading this book; and adults who have similar backgrounds will appreciate from whence I have come. I hope that this book will be an inspiration to all affected persons to succeed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Nov 8, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466962835

Bill Noble

For 25 years Bill Noble has worked as a garden design and professional in garden preservation. As Director of Preservation for the Garden Conservancy, he was instrumental in the preservation and restoration of dozens of gardens throughout the United States. The insights gained from the gardens and gardeners he has worked with are reflected in his own garden in Norwich, Vermont, which is included in the Smithsonian Institution’s Archive of American Gardens and has been featured in Martha Stewart Living, House & Garden, the New York Times, and Outstanding American Gardens.  

Book preview

PART I

CHAPTER 1

This part of my story is a chronological order of events from age two until approximately age four. Bettye Lou thinks it is amazing that I can remember things from when I was two. I was with my birth mother, Fern Lucille Coopwood, and her parents, Elder Thomas Coopwood and Sally Coopwood, and my loving sister.

I was born in Cincinnati, Ohio, on November 27, 1947, at Jewish Hospital. Even though my dad’s name is William Henry Noble, my parents named me William Roger Noble Jr. I am not a true junior inasmuch as my dad and I do not share the same middle name. For as long as I can remember, my mother has referred to me as Billy Jr. The same is true for all my relatives on my birth mother’s side of the family.

At the age of two, Fern moved us to Hot Springs, Arkansas. At that time, I didn’t know what the problem was, but I knew that my dad did not come with us. We lived with my grandfather and grandmother in Hot Springs.

During the trip from Cincinnati to Hot Springs, a strange thing occurred during the car ride. My mom seemed to experience a high level of anxiety. Before I knew what was going on, she had unclothed me and opened the car door, preparing to jump out with me in her arms. Uncle Bob (my mom’s brother) slammed on the brakes and grabbed my mom’s arm. She and I were pulled to safety. From that day forward, I sensed that something strange was going on with my mom.

Life with my grandparents seemed very structured. My grandfather was a Seventh-day Adventist minister. We virtually stayed in church a majority of the time. My mother, an accomplished pianist, played the piano and organ for the congregation. My sister and I were members of the children’s choir.

My mother was a classical pianist who played concerts all over the United States. My grandmother stated that she had played the piano since she was three. Many referred to her as being a musical genius. She would place me on top of our piano, and I would listen to her play for hours. My mother played with orchestras, churches, and other civic groups. My grandfather was opposed to her playing in orchestras, jazz groups, or civic groups; his opposition was a major frustration for my mother. He only wanted her to play in churches.

My mother was a beautiful woman with a wonderful personality. My sister always said I was her favorite child. When she was in town, she devoted a lot of attention toward me. My grandmother took care of my sister and me the majority of the time since my mother was constantly traveling to concerts.

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My maternal grandmother / Sallie Coopwood; She lived to be 104 years of age.

CHAPTER 2

My sister and I had a cocker spaniel and a cat. The time we spent at church seemed somewhat boring. If we didn’t attend church, we would receive a spanking from my mother or my grandmother. We also were not allowed to eat meat. A special portion was prepared that was to take the place of meat. I don’t know about my sister, but I disliked that particular requirement and would beg anyone who would listen to take me to get a hot dog or hamburger.

Our school was within walking distance of our home. Bettye Lou was in third grade, and I attended kindergarten. When I was three, I was told that I was advanced for my age and was given permission to start kindergarten. My mom was proud of me. Every morning, I would walk to school with my sister. My grandfather had become ill with prostate cancer and spent a lot of time in bed. I would play peek-a-boo with him, attempting to sneak up on him without his knowledge. He always seemed to catch me in my attempts to hide from him. He was a joy to be with and would talk to me in a kind way.

My mother was a little uptight when she returned home from trips. At the slightest annoyance, she would spank us with a razor belt. At times, my mom would disappear; we found out later that she went to a hospital to rest. Much later in life, I learned that my mom suffered from schizophrenia. This information provided answers to serious questions that I had as I grew into manhood.

On one particular day as my sister and I were walking to school, a man in sunglasses grabbed me and handed my sister an envelope. My sister and I were both crying and yelling, but the man whisked me away. After leaving the area, the man informed me that he was my father and was taking me home to Cincinnati. After removing his sunglasses, he did look familiar. I had not seen my dad for more than a year. This discovery meant nothing to me because I was so worried about my sister.

I later learned that my dad wanted to take my sister, but he could not do so because she had a different dad. My dad was able to get custody of me through the courts as a result of my mom’s mental disability. No one in the family ever discussed her schizophrenia. Having a mental illness was hush-hush to all who knew her.

My mom’s brother, a psychiatrist, would not discuss this with me in later years. Their mother, my grandmother, did not discuss it with me when I questioned her about it later. Grandma Sally lived to be 104. After I was kidnapped, I was separated from my mom and her family for the next sixteen years.

PART II

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My dad…William H. Noble, Sr.

CHAPTER 3

Prior to our return to Cincinnati, my dad indicated that he had remarried. His new wife, Bessie Noble, was a schoolteacher at Hayes Elementary School. Before going to my dad’s house, he took me by Bessie’s school so I could meet her and her fellow teachers. I was only four, and I was nervous because I did not trust my dad, and there were so many people whom I met.

Bessie seemed nice. She was busy with other children asking questions while we were in her classroom. She introduced me as her son, and she advised her students that I would be attending kindergarten or first grade. Everything around me seemed to be moving so fast.

Ms. Ann Coopwood was the gym teacher at my new school. Later, I found out that she had been married to one of my birth mother’s brothers. She was known as my Aunt Ann. I was told not to broadcast this around the school because jealousies might occur. I referred to her as Ms. Coopwood and, later, Ms. Pitts. She introduced Mom Bessie to my dad, which eventually ended in their marriage. My dad had previously advised me to call her Mom.

I was so confused by the events and occurrences of those first days back with my dad. I missed Bettye Lou and Fern; I also missed my grandmother and my cocker spaniel. My dad had mentioned that we would stop by a store to buy some clothes on the way home. Bessie, my dad, and I left school and went shopping for school clothes and playclothes for me since I had nothing from Arkansas.

There was no mention of what had transpired in Arkansas—and no mention of the way in which I was kidnapped as we walked to school. Those events followed me far into my adult life.