When You Think Of Me, Smile: My Life and the Changes That Made It Special

By Ann Messier

An incredible journey that begins in the small town of Crossett, Arkansas, and leads Ann through Louisiana and Texas to Frankfurt, W. Germany, and to Frankfurt American High School. Living and traveling abroad brought many changes that significantly altered her life. Away from the chaotic events in the States and family influence, she met and married Don Messier. Theirs was an unusual courtship and marriage that many thought would never last. Their differences were so great: small town girl-city boy; Southern girl-Yankee boy; Baptist girl- Catholic boy; daughter of a blue collar worker- son of a doctor. But last it did for over fifty years. Sustained by a great faith, throughout her life, she met wonderful people and experienced the rich tapestry of life: successes and failures, joys and sorrows""all precious memories. Confident that life is a holy gift, to be protected, shared, appreciated, and celebrated, her story brings the reader joy, peace, and laughter, guaranteed to make everyone smile.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 8, 2018
• ISBN: 9781641913157

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When You Think Of Me, Smile

My Life and the Changes That Made It Special

Ann Messier

ISBN 978-1-64191-314-0 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64299-047-8 (Hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-64191-315-7 (Digital)

Library of Congress Control Number: 20189521

Copyright © 2018 by Ann Messier

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

To Don

Forever in my heart

For my children and grandchildren

Matt and Dianne

Steve and Leila

Hannah, Samantha, Cameron, and Rebecca

Family forever

Introduction

Beginning

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

—John 1:1

In the early 1960s—when according to Bob Dylan, The times they are a-changin’,—I began my teaching career. Traditionally schooled, I was a bit dismayed to hear a student express, quite rhetorically and dramatically, "Who am I? A bit concerned and quick to respond, I assured her that I knew who she was. Clearly, my mundane response disappointed her. Rolling her eyes condescendingly, no doubt dismissing me as out of touch with karma," she turned and walked away. I was twenty-five and would soon make the change so drastic that it would direct my steps for the rest of my life.

I was also generations away from what would become rebellion and rejection of past traditions. With it came the long hair, miniskirts, communes, psychedelic art, LSD and marijuana, antiwar protests, the Civil Rights Movement, the music that reflected youthful discontent, and the oft-repeated cry of the age, "Who am I"—all generally referred to as the Hippy Movement. The Freedom Train was on its way with many onboard. Dylan had struck a proverbial chord: Yes, the times were, indeed, a-changin’. Somehow I didn’t quite fit this picture.

Conversely, despite all the changin’, I knew who I was—a young, inexperienced English teacher, who hailed from a very small, little-known town in Arkansas. Most people would describe both the town, Crossett, Arkansas, and me, Ann Jones, as ordinary—to some, just another hick from Hicksville. The paradox is that ordinary does not describe either very well. Because each person is unique and unrepeatable, no one is ordinary. Crossett is not ordinary for the same reason; it is uniquely made up of a constantly changing population. Once again, Dylan had it almost right, for the times are always a-changin’.

The truth is the only constant in life is change. As I look back on my life, I think about the opportunities I embraced and the changes they brought. Each step I took led me from a provincial upbringing to an ever-expanding world; from the security of a secluded childhood to the company of diverse companionship; from familial protection to the wonder of a great love; from the optimism of youth to the blessings of faith, the faith that has always been my guiding star and my life’s anchor. This is my story, but to understand it and me, I begin where else but at the beginning.

Of course, everything has a beginning. Moreover, the beginning forms the foundation on which any structure is built. Crossett’s unique beginning—its history and culture—formed our moral structure, the values we embraced. Those of us who call Crossett home grew, played, studied, competed, laughed, cried, and celebrated, secure in the safety of family and community and the blessings of faith and friendship. Growing up in Crossett prepared many of us to move away with confidence to meet our future.

1

Crossett

So I am going to have a copy of this play put in the cornerstone and the people a thousand years from now’ll know a few simple facts about us…See what I mean?

—Our Town by Thornton Wilder

Crossett happened quite by accident, if we can say anything happens that way. Located in Ashley County, Arkansas, it was the site of prime forest land and much needed timber that speculators and investors had come in search of. Among these were Edward Savage Crossett, Dr. John Wenzel Watzek, and Charles Warner Gates, all from Davenport, Iowa. Edgar Woodward Cap Gates, brother of Charles Gates and also considered a founder, was sent to purchase timberland and supervise the building of a sawmill.¹ After surveying the economy of the area, Gates selected Hamburg, the county seat, as the best location for the mill. Much to his chagrin, he met local opposition, big time!

He chose Hamburg because it was forward-looking and progressive, with many amenities: a good school, a theater, and an almost-new and very attractive courthouse.² However, because there were several mills in the surrounding area, the residents of Hamburg did not see the need for another. They refused to sell Gates the land, stating these objections, The new mill would bring in the wrong kind of people…and the Gates enterprise would cut out in ten or fifteen years and simply move to another location, leaving them with nothing but a vacant mill site and some unwelcome strangers.³

Shocked and angry, Gates announced that he would build his mill somewhere else. After careful consideration and advice from a local judge, he chose the present location of Crossett. So in 1898, Cap Gates began to build the town of Crossett. Not only did he build the town, he set strict standards for all who would live there. All residents had to be of good moral character. No liquor was allowed, and gambling was discouraged, as was any disorderly conduct. He paid higher wages than other mills, so people from all over came to work there; they willingly accepted his expectations.⁴ From its founding, the history of the city was the history of the Crossett Lumber Company—incorporated in 1899—and its successors. Since it owned all the land, the lumber company controlled the city’s development.⁵

The mill began operating in May 1899, producing the lumber used for the tent dwellings and later for houses. Life was pretty primitive in the early years. Early settlers lived in what was known as tent city. These dwellings were one room, constructed with boards on the sides and built on a foundation of wood blocks. The floor was wood planking. Fabric was stretched over a ridgepole at the top of the tent. Residents lived this way until permanent houses could be built. Construction began immediately, and soon the streets were lined with gray houses, and tent city was gone. Living conditions were less than ideal with muddy streets, poor sanitation, outhouses, free range animals everywhere; however, Crossett was a good place to live, and the people were happy.⁶

Having a kind of paternal foresightedness, the founders took special care of their enterprise. They viewed the forest as a renewable resource, not as a cut and get out operation, which stripped the land, rendering it useless. Conversely, they regarded the resource as necessary to sustain the community and the company. In 1912, they fostered a relationship with Yale University’s School of Forestry. They hired many Yale-trained foresters, which led to the establishment of the Crossett-based US Forestry Station that focused on silviculture of the pine forests. The Crossett Lumber Company, environmentally astute, was decades ahead of most industries.⁷ Crossett became known as the Forestry Capital of the South.

In like manner, they cared for the community, investing in schools, churches, and hospitals. They even had a company store, like those immortalized in the song Sixteen Tons. However, this store served the citizens well, providing everything people could want or need for their homes, their farms, or their fledgling industries.⁸ The store even extended credit to all who needed it. According to Crossett’s early settlers, this store was regarded as the best store in the entire southeast Arkansas area.⁹

On March 17, 1937, the Crossett Paper Mill began operation. Shortly after its opening, my father was hired, and his little family of three moved from Jonesboro, Louisiana, to a very small gray house on Cedar Street. Blue-collar workers like Daddy were assigned these small homes, regardless of the size or makeup of the family. Being a small family, they were able to make the necessary adjustment. Thus began their life as part of the Crossett community.

---

¹ Bill Norman, The Encyclopedia of Arkansas History and Culture.

² John W. Buckner, Cap Gates’s Tent City (Little Rock: Rose Publishing Company, 1979), 2.

³ Ibid.

⁴ Buckner, 3.

⁵ Norman.

⁶ Buckner, 9.

⁷ Bernard Reed, The Crossett Lumber Company, Encyclopedia of Arkansas History and Culture.

⁸ Buckner, 87.

⁹ Ibid.

2

Jonesboro

Ends are not bad things, they just mean that something else is about to begin.

—C. JoyBell C.

Remaining in Jonesboro would have been an easier choice. Daddy’s family’s prominence opened many doors. A popular hometown boy, he was Sheriff James Henry Jones’s youngest son, Harry, and quite a personality. Unlike his father, who stood 6'2, he took after his mother. At 5'5, he was short and stocky, fun-loving, but feisty at times. I am told his father was called many times about incidents regarding Harry. When World War I broke out, he lied about his age in order to join the army. My grandfather was called to come and get him, which he did. Daddy loved sports, football being his favorite. He was captain of his high school team and even helped choose the mascot, the Jonesboro Tigers. He might even have had the opportunity to play college ball but decided not to attend college. Instead, he joined the US Navy, spending four happy years seeing the world, his most carefree days. When his tour ended, he returned to Jonesboro to the family farm.

At some point, he met my mother, who was employed at one of the local stores. Although her name was Machie Mae Roberson, she grew tired of correcting everyone’s mispronunciation, so she took a nickname: Peggy or just Peg. Known as Miss Peggy by most customers, she was a very independent young woman, a competent and reliable employee. Her childhood circumstances were very different from Dad’s. Her father was a drinker and bordered on being abusive. A part-time forester, he was away from the family a great deal, but when he was at home, he was impatient and demanding. Children were expected to work. No treats for them. Mother told of many hours working in the fields, planting and harvesting their food, caring for the farm animals, or picking cotton for extra money. She loved school, but her school year was often interrupted when she was kept home to do the field work. Her childhood memories were of hard work, limited education, and poverty. She only completed the tenth grade.

Unlike some of her siblings, though, she was strong-minded and fiercely independent. Her ambition was to escape this desperate environment. So at eighteen, she struck out to seek her fortune. She worked in the Texas oil field towns and for a while in Dallas before returning to live and work in Bastrop, Louisiana, and finally in Jonesboro. By that time, her father had left the family, so her mother was alone. She had moved to Texarkana where my Aunt Effie lived. Both Aunt Effie and Mother adored their mother and looked for ways to make her life easier and happier. Once after hearing her mother describe herself as plain, with only Mother Hubbard dresses to wear, she bought a beautiful dress for her. We have a picture of my grandmother dressed so elegantly in that dress my mother had purchased.

For many years, she hated her father for his mistreatment of their mother and the family. Shortly after Sherman was born, she took the bus to Texarkana to visit her mother. The bus stopped in El Dorado, so she got off for a few minutes. Standing nearby was her father. He greeted her, and she him. He asked how she was. She showed him Sherman and told him that she had named him for her mother, whose maiden name was Sherman.

He commented, Mother must be pleased. He had a small dog with him; he bought a hot dog for it. Feeding the dog, he said, This is my dog, the only living thing that loves me.

At that moment, she realized that he truly was to be pitied. All the hate she had felt went away. She realized then that hatred is wasted energy and gave thanks to God for the blessings of her mother and her young son.

She and my dad began to see each other. According to her, it was not a serious relationship until she planned to accept a date with someone else. At that, my dad told her that if she accepted that date, he would not be seeing her again. His easy-going demeanor had masked his serious intentions and a surprising marriage proposal. Shocked and unable to respond immediately, she could not give an answer. She needed time to think, so she decided to take some time away from him and their situation to see how she really felt about him. She visited a friend in nearby Bastrop to see if she truly wanted to make this most important commitment. In her case, absence did indeed make her heart grow fonder. So she returned and accepted his marriage proposal.

They were married secretly in December 1928 by a justice of the peace and kept it secret for several weeks. When they finally revealed their marriage, Dad’s family was horrified. While Miss Peggy was highly regarded by her employer, her social status did not measure up to that of the more prominent Jones clan. They had hoped he would choose one of the local, more acceptable Jonesboro girls; once again, he had defied expectations, choosing instead my mother. My grandfather, however, recognized the wisdom in Dad’s choice. He saw the personal qualities that made her the best partner for Harry. He said at one point, Peggy is the only person who could do anything with Harry. She made him stand up and be a man. Quite a mandate!

They lived in Jonesboro for the next nine years. Their first apartment was in the basement of the Jonesboro jail, no doubt arranged by Granddad. That was my brother Sheman’s first home. The Depression years were hard. Work was scarce. They took any job that paid. Both Mother and Daddy worked. Mother cleaned houses, did ironing, and clerked at stores when jobs were available. Daddy accepted any employment he could get, however temporary it might be. He even worked in a cemetery, clearing graves. Finally, he was hired to work at the Hodge Paper Mill.

There was no childcare in those days, so Sherman accompanied my mother to her jobs. Somehow they managed to buy a very small house. All the while, Dad’s family continued to take a dim view of Mother. Sherman was little regarded, as well. They thought of him more as her child, on whom she doted. As a result, she was very protective of him. I remember wondering if she loved him more than me. One day I asked her. She said, No, Sherman had me; everyone loved you. Once again, her explanation satisfied me.

When the Crossett Company began hiring for the paper mill, Dad applied. Having experience working in the Hodge Paper Mill, he was offered a job, which he gladly accepted. They had survived the years of the Great Depression in Jonesboro; now they welcomed this opportunity to begin anew. Although my father’s family was highly regarded in Jonesboro, Dad wanted a chance to make his way, independent of family assistance, disapproval, and, at times, intrusion. Happily, they moved to Crossett where they began life among new friends, working and hoping for a better future. On October 24, 1938, I joined the family. We were now a family of four.

3

Hometown

It all depends on what you mean by home…

I should have called it

Something you somehow haven’t to deserve.

—Robert Frost, The Death of the Hired Man

Family First

I am told that my delivery was not easy. I was born at home with Dr. Smith attending. My mother was not a large woman, but both her babies were big. My brother Sherman, born in 1930, had weighed nine pounds, but I topped him at nine and a half. I remember once asking my mother if I had been an accident, as there were so many years between our births. She assured me that I was definitely wanted and planned, but the delay in growing our family was the result of the hard times she and my father had experienced during the Depression years.

I am told that Sherman had been waiting and hoping that the newest family member would be a baby brother. I can only imagine his disappointment when Mother told him that he had a baby sister instead. He blurted out in despair, exclaiming, Oh Mother, I knew you would do it!

Being a wise and caring mother, she tenderly explained in a way that seemed to satisfy and comfort him. She said, Son, I didn’t do it; God did. He must have thought you needed a baby sister to take care of. So you must always watch over her and protect her. And he surely did.

My earliest memories of him were those of a brother who truly accepted me. Even though he was eight-and-a-half years older, he included me in his life. I learned to swim at five years old, thanks to his friend, Dixie Whittemore, who was teaching swimming lessons at the Crossett pool. She asked to take me for lessons; sure enough, I learned. So during the following hot summers, Sherman would put me on his bike, and off we would go to the pool. At other times, he would take me to the movies, a favorite pastime in Crossett. We had a radio in the living room, no doubt where my parents kept up with the war news and listened to President Roosevelt’s fireside chats. But Sherman and I also enjoyed the entertainment it provided. The one program I vividly remember was Inner Sanctum, a very scary program that