Who I Was . . . Born to Be . . . and Whose I Am: This Is My Story . . . This Is My Song . . .

By Frankie Lee Watson

Who I Was . . . Born to Be . . . and Whose I Am is an inspirational autobiography, referring to a well-lived life, as an extravagant tapestry reveals true accounts of remarkable adventures—a first romance; an aunt, nurse to President Dwight Eisenhower; a neighbor, Senator Sam Ervin (chair of the Watergate investigation); life-changing decisions; dating a would-be celebrity; a journalist interview with Rev. Billy Graham; raising an artist-daughter and a Broadway-actor son; a murder; surviving 9/11; encounters with icons destined for greatness; divine interventions; miraculous healings; a mystery; and the invention of the Garmin (GPS) in a friend’s garage.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Nov 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9781973631347

Frankie Lee Watson

A former newspaper columnist, the author, a Christian educator, teacher, speaker, Interior Designer, CEO and Business Owner studied at six universities, including Anderson University in Anderson, Indiana, where she now resides with her husband of sixty-five years. A leader of women’s ministries, she has served the Church on local and national levels. Frankie Lee, a former member of Junior League, Altrusa Club, Madison County Management Council, she is a member of Christian Women Connection, Sigma Tau Delta, Fashion Group International, and Is listed in Who’s Who Among Executive Women.

Book preview

Who I Was …

Born to Be …

and Whose I Am

This Is My Story … This Is My Song …

Frankie Lee Watson

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Copyright © 2018 Frankie Lee Watson.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Scripture quotations marked (TLB) are taken from The Living Bible copyright © 1971. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.

Scripture quotations marked (NIV) are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com

Scripture taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Scripture quotations taken from the New American Standard Bible® (NASB), Copyright © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation Used by permission. www.Lockman.org

Scripture quotations are from the ESV® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

WestBow Press

A Division of Thomas Nelson & Zondervan

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.westbowpress.com

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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.

ISBN: 978-1-9736-3135-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-9736-3136-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-9736-3134-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018911117

WestBow Press rev. date:   10/22/2018

Contents

Preface

The Tapestry

Beginnings

First Romance

Decisions…Decisions

Born to Be

Some Call It ‘Fate?’

Journalist

Dreams Do Come True

Seminary Days

Unknown Journey

On Princeton’s Mountain

Tears

Heartland

Workplace Ladder

The Purposeful Life

Wonders of His Love

Night Reflections

Created for Greatness

Imagine!

Martha’s Vineyard

Shocking News

Bring Him Home

Endless Summer

Cherished Memories

Forever Changed

Mystery of the Fight for the Corner Office

Derailed Journey

My Prayer

Destined for Greatness

Miracle Morning

Transitions

Notes from the ER

Winter’s Night

Sea Billows

Morning Song

Sounds of Music

Hospitality

Sunday Guest

Reflecting His Love

Imperfectly Perfect

My Political World

Way of Love

Intermission

Autumn Curtain

September

November Harvest

On Grand Cayman

Amazing Journey

Life’s Passion

Weaving the Tapestry

The Artist … Painter … Educator … Gardener

A Different Drummer

Surprising Destiny

Who Was I Born to Be?

The Challenge

My Last Will and Testament

Acknowledgements and References

References

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Dedicated

to

Michael, Karen, Rob

Meredith, Joachim, Nicholas and Diane

Preface

Some of the most beautiful music goes

to the grave never heard.

Many creative ideas die within us never shared.

Eloquent, moving poems within our hearts are never written.

Profound speeches of wisdom are not spoken.

The artist’s best works are yet to be painted.

Many of life’s joys are never experienced.

Earth’s treasures wait to be discovered.

Broken dreams lie unfilled.

Many of the greatest stories are never told.

May these true stories serve to inform, encourage, uplift, and inspire persons of all faiths, many different walks in life, and unparalleled experiences.

I trust that my story of answered prayer and divine intervention will fill you with hope and bring healing to those in need. May you be moved to a new understanding and appreciation for the miracles in your own life.

Perhaps some line I have written will seem to someone like sunlight on a rainy morning, a cool drink on a hot day, calm repose for troubled feelings, warmth in the cold of winter, the clasp of a friend’s hands, or the touch of love.

Come with me on this journey, and let me take you to places where you may feel blessed, renewed, and refreshed.

It is my hope that some word, idea, story, or statement scripted on these pages will inspire you, the reader. to stretch beyond your possibilities, to find your purpose, and help you in your journey to aspire to your highest potential.

___Frankie Lee

The Tapestry

For the sake of this story, we shall envision life’s journey as the weaving of a beautiful tapestry, made of millions of threads.

The weaving begins with our great-grandparents, our grandparents, and our parents, all contributing to the final artistry of the image we weave. Many memories derived from the roots of our childhood are woven into this tapestry.

Some of the threads are short; some are long. There are many thin threads, weak with age; there are some as wide as a ribbon. Many thick; some like cords. There are broken cords and threads that are fragmented; some showing evidence of being mended.

The Threads of Life become the fabric. The tapestry is woven together by the people in our lives with whom we connect, our families, childhood friends, neighbors, teachers, mentors, Sunday School teachers, college classmates, church leaders, public idols, coworkers, and the media.

We are influenced by these relationships, the books and papers we read, the images we see, the music we hear, the TV shows and movies we watch, the ever changing culture around us.

From birth, we experience:

                       Light and darkness,

                       Warmth and coldness,

                       Satisfaction and want,

                       Love and trust,

                       Joy and anger,

                       Peace and anxiety,

                       Pain and distrust,

                       Acceptance and rejection,

                       Happiness and sadness,

                       Loss and recovery,

                       Belief and doubt,

                       Weakness and strength.

There are striking reds and a brilliant spectrum of deep gold, orange, pinks, turquoise, and purple, as in a magnificent summer sunset.

There are some holes in the weaving when sorrows are withheld inside. Then, there are clear threads scattered here and there, as tears wash over the fabric.

The colors are a vast mixture of black, blank white, dull grey, bland beige, dirty mud, rusty copper; some as vivid as the azure sky and bright as the stars, illuminating as a full moon on a crisp Fall evening.

The strokes of pale yellow and the fresh green and lime of spring bring life to the picture.

So, the tapestry is woven as the story unfolds………

Beginnings

Among the framed family photos lining the white shelves made from crown molding, a small plaque rests. The calligraphy by Annie Danielson reads: Home is where your story begins.

My story began May 13, 1933, at 109 Lenoir Street, a quiet two-lane street located in Morganton, North Carolina, a lovely small town nestled at the foot of the Blue Ridge Mountains between Asheville and Charlotte.

The town of Morganton was established in 1784, as a district court town and county seat of Burke County by, an act of the North Carolina General Assembly. The North Carolina Supreme Court held its August Session in Morganton from 1847 until 1862, resulting in the placement of Broughton Hospital (for the care of persons with mental disorders) and the North Carolina School for the Deaf in Morganton. Later, with the location of other facilities there, the State became the town’s largest employer.

The decade following the First World War, 1919-1929, was relatively peaceful and prosperous. Nearly eighty percent of Burke County residents lived on tenant farms and still traded at isolated county stores. Most of the roads were unpaved.

Dark clouds were gathering in Europe as Hitler was rising to power.

The stock market crash of October, 1929, has been considered to be the beginning of the Great Depression. A storm was brewing in Germany as the world economy collapsed.

By 1930, the Burke County working man had begun to feel the pinch. The Alpine Cotton Mill closed and its employees were destitute. Companies layed off workers, reduced wages, and shortened the work week. In 1930, able bodied men were laboring at public works for twenty cents an hour.

Local efforts were made to assist those in need. A Community Chest was organized. Free meals were served to the unemployed, and a locally designed employment agency was created.

In 1931, there were fewer than sixty miles of hard surface roads in the county.

New Deal measures, begun in 1932, brought additional funds and jobs into the community. A new post office in Morganton was approved in 1933, and a New Scenic Highway, the Blue Ridge Parkway was projected.

A Civilian Conservation Corps was established. Two hundred young unemployed, eighteen to twenty-five year old men, were paid to work in the mountain areas, cleaning up watersheds, building US Forest Service roads, controlling soil erosion, building telephone lines, and fighting fires.

The same winter that Franklin D. Roosevelt came to power as President in the United States, Hitler assumed Germany’s highest office in Europe and became known as the ‘most evil Conquerer in history.’

In the yellowed pages of a Baby Book, eighty-three years old, the Arrival page says that I was born to Julia Josephine (Weir) and Frank James Causby on May 13, 1933, at two o’ clock in the afternoon, weighing eight and half pounds. But, this information does not tell you who I am.

The house in which I made my appearance was red brick with white columns framing the doorway and front stoop. Flower beds drew the attention of passers-by, who were often greeted by someone from the side porch. An attractive fence and gated drive enclosed the lawn.

Morganton’s architecture is diverse with dramatic styling representing the various eras of architecture: log cabins; Federal style Catawba River plantation homes; massive, Greek Revival mansions; elaborate Queen Anne homes with Victorian trim; craftsman bungalows. Colonial Revival, Gothic and Art Deco styles reflected the trends of the day, and come together to create a rich architectural heritage.

It was in this environment, economic climate, and community landscape that I was born, a depression baby. But, this did not define who I was, or who I was to become.

The memories of my childhood begin at age three. It was my birthday, and I was being dressed to have my picture taken by a man who kept sticking his head under a black cloth, over a black box, on top of wood poles (a tripod.) I was wearing a pretty white, batiste dress, with scallops around the hem, and black, shiny Mary Janes.

Doting Aunt Lilly, who called me Susie, was fussing with the dark, brown ‘Shirley Temple’ curls that framed my face.

Mama was getting my sister, Margaret, ready for the pictures. Margaret was born on May 11, 1931, so Mama celebrated our birthdays on the twelfth. She made the birthday cake with fresh coconut, white frosting, and a wheel of peppermint sticks on top. When the cake was cut, everyone was sure to get a peppermint stick. Mama mixed some punch from freshly squeezed lemon juice and grape juice canned from the grape vines, which grew along the wall of the garage.

The Primary School was located four long blocks, from our house to uptown, then, two past the movie theatre and down a hill. We walked to school every morning, no matter the weather. On cold mornings, sometimes, Miss Alice, a teacher who lived across the street and drove a one-seater Ford, would stop and say, Jump in Frankie Lee!

And, off we went; sure to get there before the bell rang.

I was eight years old when President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s strong voice sounded from the radio, declaring the United States at war. Thus, began World War II.

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My Dad sat with his ear ‘’glued to the radio’’ each evening, especially on Friday nights, listening to every word of President Roosevelt’s ‘’Fireside Chat.’’

The Red Cross made an appeal by radio and the local newspaper for volunteers to roll bandages and make sheets. So, at the age of ten, I donned my little two-piece white shark skin suit and walked to the Community Building in town to volunteer my services.

Men and women moved to Baltimore, Maryland, and other cities to work in defense plants for higher wages. The Hosiery Mill shut down because of the shortage of silk from Japan. Stamps were issued to purchase rationed commodities such as sugar, coffee, chocolate, silk hosiery, steel, gasoline, and postage stamps.

Many workers, who had not entered the military service, migrated to the ship yards, where wages were much higher than at local industrial plants.

Grammar School was just two blocks over on the other side of our vegetable garden. As I walked home after school, I could see Mama working in the garden. She sometimes worried that there might not be enough sugar for the canning. Most of the time, supper was already prepared, waiting in the warming oven on top of the wood cook stove.

General George S. Patton’s home was on the street where I lived. As I walked by his white picket fence on the way to my aunt’s house, I often imagined what his life must be like.

World War II stands as the century’s grotesque epitome. Because of Hitler’s megalomania, forty million people died and the world was left ‘distorted and broken.’

Burke County lost at least 118 servicemen in the war. Many others were grievously wounded, both psychologically and physically, leaving them fragmented with lifetime scars.

When the war ended in 1945, and peace was declared, Dad made the decision to go to Pearl Harbor in Honolulu to work in the Navy shipyard as a millwright, working to restore the retrieved sunken ships. Leaving Mom and us four children to manage for ourselves, he was diligent in his determination to send all four of us to college.

Growing up overnight, I was twelve going on eighteen. Many times, Mom assigned to me the weekly grocery shopping. My other chores included house cleaning, mowing the lawn, helping with the canning of vegetables from the garden and dishes__ always dishes.

As a child, I felt