Memories of a Good and Simple Life

By Henry Addison Jr.

Memories of a Good and Simple Life depicts both the hardships and joy of growing up in rural North Carolina during the 1940’s and 1950’s. Although challenged by living with an alcoholic father, you will enjoy a boy’s love of life and all of the adventures it provided. Later, the author’s devotion to his wife and children are quite moving. Finally, you will get a glimpse into corporate life, including a “hostile takeover” from an insider’s view!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Oct 26, 2018
• ISBN: 9781483491493

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JR.

Copyright © 2018 Henry Addison, Jr.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

ISBN: 978-1-4834-9150-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-9151-6 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-9149-3 (e)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Lulu Publishing Services rev. date:  10/03/2018

Dedicated to my children: Martin Addison and Amy Addison Kelly

&

My Grandchildren: Blake, Lee and Miles Addison

&

Lillian Grace Kelly

PART I

EARLY YEARS – ROXBORO ROAD

I was born in Northern Durham County on January 15, 1935 to Henry S. Addison and Leola Jones Addison. My Father was a farmer and a part-time back-yard auto mechanic. In 1935, the last year he farmed, his crop did not sell for enough to pay for the cost of the seeds, fertilizer and other supplies that had been bought on credit. Wisely, he decided to stop farming and become a full-time automobile mechanic. Fortunately, he was hired by Elkins Motor Company, the Chrysler and Plymouth dealership in Durham. Over his long career as a mechanic, he became a master technician and worked for local Chrysler dealerships and Lincoln Mercury dealers in the Durham area. However, lack of education and an alcohol problem prevented him from advancing beyond being a hired mechanic. Although he did own a small auto repair shop for a short period of time.

My mother, Leola Jones Addison, married my father when she was barely fifteen years old. I was born about a year later. Mother was a great parent and cared for us with boundless energy and love. My brother Daniel Stevens, Danny, was born in 1938 and our sister, Barbara Ann, was born in 1940. Since Mother was very young when we were born, she enjoyed spending many hours playing ball and various games with us during our early years. In a sense, Mother grew-up with us during that period.

My first memories were when we lived off of Roxboro Road or Highway 501. We lived on a feeder road, parallel to the main highway. There were four houses located on the road which ended at the Eno River. My aunt and uncle lived in the first house, the Merrits, Billy and Pinky and their parents lived in the second house and we lived in the third house. The owner of all the houses, Leo Mangum, lived in the fourth house. Beyond Mr. Mangum’s house was a grist mill located on the Eno River where local farmers brought their grains to be ground into corn meal and animal feed. There was a dam and pond behind the grist mill where we used to fish when I was older.

Our house was yellow clapboard with a slate roof. It had a large back porch with an enclosed bathroom on one end. This was the nicest house we lived in while I was growing up. I vividly remember a number of things that stand out while living there.

Mr. Mangum had a watermelon patch between our house and his farm. The patch was located in a grove of tall pine trees. One afternoon, Danny, Billy and Pinky Merritt and I decided to sample a couple of watermelons. We ate the hearts out of two or three melons, thinking the pine trees would give us cover. However, that evening, after Dad came home from work, Mr. Mangum paid us a visit and told Dad about our sampling of his watermelons. Needless to say, Dad promised to take care of the situation. In our family, mother provided the discipline, when needed, which was quite often. Our father had never given us a whipping! For the first and only time in my life that he ever spanked us was that evening. I was first to receive my punishment, a few hard licks with Dad’s belt.

While I was getting my lecture and punishments, Danny slipped a pillow into his pants to protect his rear end. Naturally when Dad started to spank him, he noticed the pillow, and had Danny remove it and drop his pants. I felt sorry for Danny because I know it really hurt.

Danny seemed to be unlucky, and I remember another bad experience he encountered. In the back yard, there was an in-ground septic tank which was covered with wooden boards. One day Danny decided to walk on the boards that covered the septic tank. About half way across, the board gave way and he fell into the septic tank. Of course, the water in the tank was smelly, and he screamed for help. I told him I was not going to touch him, but I finally handed him a pole and pulled him out, being careful not to touch him!

We had a goat named Billy, of course. Our old maid Aunt Emma lived with us and enjoyed cleaning under the back porch, which was twelve or fifteen feet off the ground. One day, Aunt Emma was sweeping under the porch with her homemade brush broom and Billy spotted her. The goat watched her intently until he saw the opportune time. Aunt Emma bent over, and Billy rammed her behind, sending her for a summersault! Emma never cleaned under the porch again.

I also recall the Riverview Inn and Dance Hall located approximately one hundred yards from our house, directly facing Roxboro Road. Earnest Garrett operated the Inn and on Saturday nights, he hired a band to play for a barn dance. I decided to ask Mr. Garrett if he would hire me to sweep the floor on Saturday and Sunday mornings. I was seven or eight years old at the time. Mr. Garrett agreed to give me fifty-cents for the two-morning’s work. I was thrilled to get the job. Things worked well until about the third week, Mr. Garrett said that this time he would pay me in candy. I agreed when he gave me a full box of Milky- Ways. To my chagrin and disappointment, the candy was old and full of worms. Needless to say, that ended my first employment.

My Aunts, who lived two houses down from us, all dipped snuff. I would watch them place a pinch of snuff in their mouths and wondered how it would taste. They always used Tuberose Snuff and I figured it must be good. One day when I was alone in their living room, I noticed the snuff can on the shelf. I decided this would be a good time to give it a try. It did not taste like chocolate, as I had imagined. I ran outside and spit the snuff out. Apparently, I had swallowed some of it and became extremely sick and dizzy. After laying on the ground on my stomach, holding on to keep the world from spinning out of control, I finally was able to make it back home. I never told my mother or aunts about this.

My uncles, James and Wiley, were working on an old automobile one day, and I was watching them work. They always kept a large open container of gasoline next to their work space to wash parts in. I thought the gas really smelled good, so I stood over the container and sniffed it for a few minutes. The next thing I remember, they were shaking me and asking what was wrong. Until this day, I hate the smell of gasoline.

Back in my childhood days, most of the houses were constructed