Thursday, January 19, 2017

Goodbye Uncle Bob, "Old Nothing"



In April, my dear Uncle Bob passed away from congestive heart failure.  The memorial service was a fitting tribute to a man who touched so many lives and brightened the town of Kingsport in so many ways.  Uncle Bob was cremated, and his ashes were placed in an old copper coffee pot that he had bought at an auction (no doubt he got a good deal for it).  In between recordings of Jim Reeves's gospel songs, several friends and family members spoke at the service, including antique dealers who considered Uncle Bob the Yoda of haggling. I both spoke and played "Amazing Grace" on my violin. Below is what I said...   

Many of you remember Uncle Bob as a collector and haggler and consummate jokester. In fact, the last time I saw Uncle Bob before he went home with Hospice, he was haggling about the price of records.  Thomas and I had stopped by to see him at the Commerce Street shop after we had a dentist appointment in Kingsport.  He was sitting in his favorite chair by the window surrounded by boxes of old LPs.  A young man had come in on his lunch hour and was sorting through the records.  He would hold one up and Uncle Bob would say, “2 dollars” or “1 dollar” or “50 cents.”  When the man had made his selections, he and Uncle Bob went to the counter to settle up.

Haggling was Uncle Bob’s forte. We all know that he won’t need to haggle to get into heaven, but he will do it just on principle.  And then tell St. Peter a joke.

What I want to share with you, though, are not memories of Uncle Bob as a witty businessman, but one of him as my uncle and friend when I was a child. Many a day and many a night I stayed with Aunt Jussie and Uncle Bob when I was young, especially in the summer when I was out of school.  (“Aunt Jussie,” by the way, is what I call my Aunt Joyce—because I couldn’t say Joyce when I was a toddler.) Their expansive house was filled with treasures for me to gaze at and peruse: oak furniture and art glass (those were Aunt Jussie’s favorites); and piles of Life magazines, encyclopedias, complete sets of Charles Dickens novels, Coca Cola ads, Victorian photo albums, Christmas postcards, silver spoons, gold coins, chalk figurines, tin toys, and anything else that caught Uncle Bob’s eye at an auction.   

Mornings at Aunt Jussie and Uncle Bob’s would start off with a cup of coffee for Uncle Bob and a cup of hot Lipton tea for me—with lots of cream.  Uncle Bob would make sure that I had an ice cube, which he called a “plunket,” for my tea.

Fluffy the cat might join us for breakfast.  She had a high chair of her own, which I’m not so sure she was as excited about as I was. Fluffy was Uncle Bob’s companion, and she was my playmate—a role she often assumed reluctantly.  Uncle Bob sometimes shook his finger at me when I was too rough with Fluffy, though I don’t remember getting scolded too badly when I put a whole bottle of Johnson and Johnson’s baby lotion on her fur—my version of a spa treatment.  It took weeks, by the way, for all the lotion to wear off, and Fluffy spent most of that time hiding under the bed.

After breakfast, we would load up and go to the Haggle Shop—where even more treasures awaited my exploration.  It was better than Toys R Us, believe me. Uncle Bob might spend the day going through a box of old books he had recently bought at an auction—donning most with a price label with his #8 booth number on it.  Every once in awhile, he might set one of the books aside and say, “this is a good one.”  We might eat a lunch of hamburgers and french fries that Aunt Jussie had brought us from the nearby Woolworth’s—all while listening to Bing Crosby or Nat King Cole croon on the record player.

After we returned home, Uncle Bob would often sit in his rocking chair, scoop Fluffy up on his lap, and ask her what she wanted to watch on the television.  I would usually hope for North and South, starring Patrick Swayze as Orry Main (my childhood heartthrob) or some other Civil War related movie—but sometimes Fluffy would pick The Thorn Birds, or Centennial, or a John Wayne movie. And we had to go with what Fluffy chose. Once the movie started, Uncle Bob would put his hand over Fluffy’s face, and she would begin to purr, happy with a warm lap and her choice of movie.

To say that Uncle Bob liked movies is a grand understatement.  He filled book cases and china cabinets alike with movies and mini-series that he recorded. He could even record a video from another video, and in this way, he was a magician in my eyes.  When I was nine years old, I received a VCR for Christmas, but more exciting was the copy of Gone with the Wind that Uncle Bob gave me to go with the VCR.  He had edited out all of the commercials and recorded it with high resolution.    The technology of the VCR is now obsolete, and I have gotten rid of most of my old VHS’s—but this copy of Gone with the Wind, along with North and South and The Blue and the Gray and a few others that Uncle Bob made for me still hold a “place of honor” in my movie collection.

While watching a movie with Fluffy and Uncle Bob, I might fall asleep on the couch; or I might make it through the movie and then crawl into cousin Kim’s giant antique poster bed and be lulled to sleep by the cars whizzing by on Stone Drive.  No doubt I had begged my mother to let me stay another night.

Now, thirty years after I had sleepovers at Aunt Jussie and Uncle Bob’s, my own home is filled with “old stuff.”  I drink several cups of hot tea each day, each cooled off with a plunket or two.  A purring cat is my favorite therapy.  I have to watch North and South or listen to Bing Crosby every so often to “recalibrate.” Some of this might be in my nature, but I like to think that much of it is Uncle Bob’s spirit in me.

When I was little, Uncle Bob had a self-prescribe nickname:  He would call himself “Nothing” or “Nuttin.”  I can’t remember where the nickname came from, but I remember him using it. One Thanksgiving, he and Aunt Jussie gave me a Madame Alexander Red Riding Hood doll and a collection of fairy tales to go with it.  In the “Hansel and Gretel” book, Uncle Bob wrote: “To: Heather Rhea Gilreath.  This will go good with your Lil Red Riding Hood Doll.  Don’t eat the house up. Uncle Bob “Nothing.”

He may have called himself “Nothing,” but Uncle Bob was a very special “something” to me.


Uncle Bob's service picture
Uncle Bob and Aunt Jussie early in their marriage

Goodbye Aunt Betty, A Rose in Heaven





On September 11, 2015, Cleo Irene Lockhart Shoemaker passed away after a long battle with dementia.  Most people knew Cleo as "Betty," a nickname she chose in her young adult life, and to me, she was "Aunt Betty."  Cleo was born on June 2, 1927 in  Drill, VA on the Lockhart family farm on “Big A” Mountain.  She was the 4th child (2nd girl) born to my grandparents, Thomas Jefferson and Cynthia Rhea Lockhart.  Cleo was a lovely child with dark eyes and glossy hair, and most of her siblings say she was the favorite child of their father, who called her his “little kewpie doll” and allowed her to sit on his lap at dinner while the other children were "relegated" to hard wooden benches. 

Aunt Betty as a school girl "on the mountain" in Drill, VA
Cleo was a teenager when the family moved to Ross Campground, Tennessee.  Not long afterwards, she took a job at the Kingsport Press, where she met her future husband, Lawrence Shoemaker. Lawrence had just returned from WWII where he had been a prisoner in a German camp. 

Aunt Betty and Uncle Lawrence as a young couple

Cleo, by now known as Betty, and Lawrence married on July 4, 1946 and settled in Kingsport.  Both continued to work at the Press.  They never had children and had only one pet—a groundhog named Sugar. They were nearly inseparable, spending (I believe) every night of their 69-year marriage together.  They enjoyed traveling, especially fishing trips to the coast where they would bring back bags of shrimp that my mother says were the most delicious she ever tasted. 

Aunt Betty with Sugar, the groundhog



Aunt Betty and Uncle Lawrence with their catch
Aunt Betty with a particularly good catch


By the time I came along, Aunt Betty and Uncle Lawrence had moved into a brick ranch home with an expansive yard where they tended a large and impressive garden.  I remember spending many languid summer afternoons musing over their vegetables and flowers—all perfectly tended, not a weed or worm hole in sight.  And in June and September, the fragrance of Aunt Betty's roses filled the air with heady perfume. Aunt Betty’s roses were in a class of their own.  She grew mostly hybrid teas, which require tedious care, and flanked the sunniest sides of her house with them.  
After her death, I found her "rose journal" where she kept a list of all the roses she had grown over the years and notes about each of them. “Queen Elizabeth,” “Mister Lincoln,” “Veteran’s Honor, and “Hot Cocoa” were her clear favorites.  It was fitting that Aunt Betty died in a month that her roses were blooming--and the woman who bought the house brought a bouquet of them to the funeral.


Aunt Betty and Uncle Lawrence's garden
Me, my step-dad Bobby, and Aunt Betty beside a particularly impressive zucchini plant

Aunt Betty showing off her roses

More of Aunt Betty's roses



Aunt Betty was also an excellent cook, and her sweet potato casserole and cranberry salad were legendary at Christmas Eve dinner. Also legendary was her beloved turquoise oven in which she baked many of these delicious dishes. The oven, which she had installed when the house was built in the 1960's, was retained through many kitchen remodels and became a trademark of sorts for Aunt Betty.  No doubt it would bring a high price on the "retro" market today.  (And whomever becomes the lucky owner will likely inherit a bit of Aunt Betty's spirit as well.  She'll remind them to put marshmallows on the sweet potato casserole.)

Perhaps what was most impressive to me about Aunt Betty was her immaculate style: Her hair was always perfectly set, her clothes sharply pressed, and she typically wore matching jewelry.  And this wasn't because she was afraid of hard work.  On the contrary, she played in the dirt as a child and gardened as an adult.  Yet, she was always neat as a pin; even the beads of sweat on her face after she hoed corn or harvested beans seemed manicured.  This particular talent of Aunt Betty continues to inspire and allude me, as I typically look like I've just slopped the hogs after I've just slopped the hogs--not like I'm ready to take a shopping trip to Macy's!  Maybe one day I will learn the subtle art of staying kempt in farm clothes.

So, to Aunt Betty with her grace and green thumb:  May you bloom in Heaven as lovely and lovingly as you did here on Earth.


Aunt Betty in a turquoise dress

Aunt Betty and her turquoise stove
Aunt Betty with sisters and nieces (in front of her turquoise oven)


Aunt Betty and Uncle Lawrence after 60+ years of marriage

Aunt Betty and Uncle Lawrence with me at my Wake Forest graduation

Aunt Betty, Uncle Lawrence, Aunt Jussie, and Uncle Bob
with me and Lance at our wedding


Aunt Betty and Uncle Lawrence with baby Thomas and the bougenvillia vine















Happy New Year 2017!



Below is our annual New Year's Letter.  I've been woefully negligent with updating the blog this year, so I have included lots of pictures in the post.

Happy New Year!

Here’s hoping this letter finds you in good health and spirits.  For us, 2016 could very well be called “The Year of Unfortunate Events,” with a political election that left us feeling like we were living in the Twilight Zone and losses of great personalities both famous and familial. But we try to look ahead with optimism that we are indeed riding an arc that bends towards justice, peace, and a healthier planet. So with that in mind, let’s start with the child(ren):

Thomas is growing like pigweed in July.  He is seven years old and in first grade in the Walnut Grove Homeschool.  He is a whiz at math but still learning to read on his own. He loves Berenstain Bears and Dr. Seuss, and we are slowly working our way through the Harry Potter series (that’s a lot of reading by Mommy!)  I guess it’s never too early to introduce the heroic model.  Thomas is in his last year of Kindermusik and has mastered several songs on the glockenspiel, including “The Lion Sleeps Tonight,” which he picked out by ear.  He is also following in Lance’s footsteps by becoming a Cub Scout and is getting geared up for his first Pinewood Derby.  He continues to improve with his Spanish. In June, he and his cousin Olivia traveled to Minnesota for a foreign language camp (Thomas took Spanish and Olivia took French).  Thomas came home saying he wanted to learn Norwegian next!  By far, Thomas’s favorite pastime is playing with his Legos.  He especially enjoys building armies of hybrid knight/ninja/Jedi/monsters. He also enjoys collecting State and National Park quarters and other trinkets. He has reached several milestones over the last year, including losing two more teeth (for a total of four), learning to ride his bicycle and scooter, and learning to skip (harder than you think). Luckily, there were no broken bones this year.


Thomas turns seven!



Lego Mania
 



Spanish Camp
Kindermusik Recital



The Wounds of a Bicyclist


Riding Bicycle!
         

Scout's Honor
Scouting for Food


In addition to being school marm for Thomas and farm manager for Walnut Grove, Heather continues to play in the symphony and work with her Junior Apprentices at Exchange Place.  This year, she took on the ambitious task of creating and hosting a fundraiser for the JA program.  “A Serving of History:  Foodways on an Antebellum East Tennessee Farm” proved a great success and brought in funding for sorely needed period costumes for the apprentices.  You may remember from last year’s letter that Heather was working to acquire American Guinea Hogs for Exchange Place. Though raising piglets wasn’t really in the plan, she ended up with a pregnant sow—“Millie”—who gave birth to four female piglets in June.  The piglets, while an unexpected challenge, proved a charming addition to Exchange Place.  Of course, piglets don’t stay piglets for long, so plans to turn them into “pork” quickly unfolded. We roasted one as a suckling pig at the JA fundraiser.  Another—“Lute”—was chosen as Millie’s companion (and thus earned a stay of execution, at least for now). The other two, which are collectively referred to as “piggies,” came to Walnut Grove.  They will be butchered this winter—playing a role in Heather’s relentless quest to learn how to produce a fine country ham.


Thomas trying out the stilts
Heather and her Junior Apprentices

Millie's Piglets!
(with Cousin Jackson)

And speaking of country ham, one of the finest producers of this Southern delicacy—Mr. R.A. Phillips, Jr. (“Granddad”)—turned 100 in February. The whole family traveled to west TN to help him celebrate with a community gathering and a special meal at the Catfish Hotel, one of the oldest family-run restaurants in the country. Granddad still lives on the family homestead—Stony Lonesome Farm—and is a model of self-reliance, though he gets some help now from caretakers. On a sadder note, Heather lost two of her beloved uncles this year: Uncle Bob in April and Uncle Roy in June.  Uncle Bob was a consummate jokester and collector, who would buy a box of junk for the one Johnny Cash record in the lot. He also loved cats and considered a purring feline one of life’s best therapies.  Those who know Heather can see how much Uncle Bob rubbed off on her (Johnny Cash and cats, etc.).  Uncle Roy was a gentle, kind man who lived as those his glass was half full despite a challenging life.  His wish was to die at home—the same house he was born in—and Heather’s mother nursed him faithfully for two years to make sure he could do so.  



Family photo at Christmas
(Granddad is 100--and Heather is stealing a kiss from him!)
Thomas and Granddad enjoying catfish

Lance is still working at the VA and serving the veterans in our community.  To celebrate the end of his tenure in the Navy, he is letting his hair and beard grow out.  Ironically, he looks more like a sailor now than before!  He enjoys working with Thomas’s Cub Scout pack and teaching the cubs about everything from birdcalls to proper hygiene.  In October, we enjoyed a nice, long trip to Cincinnati to visit Lance’s sister, Kim, and his niece, Olivia.  As usual, we took a history adventure, visiting Ulysses S. Grant’s birthplace, the John Rankin House (look this guy up—he was amazing), Harriet Beecher Stowe’s House, The Johnny Appleseed Museum, and the Wright Brother’s Bicycle Shop.  We ended the excursion with a trip to Paint and Bake (on Olivia’s request), where Thomas crafted a “one-eyed Zombie” elephant.


Visiting Grant's Birthplace with Aunt Kim and Cousin Olivia

We welcomed a new feline to our menagerie this summer: Minerva Sue came to us from Aunt Kim who found her and her two sisters in a cardboard box on the road.  Minerva has the typical active personality of a kitten, which our other cats, Ollie and Pippin, take with varying levels of patience. The other animals carry on as usual as if to say, “Oh, another cat.  Cool.  Cats don’t eat grain or hay.” 


Thomas snuggles with Minerva
Ollie snuggles with Minerva






The only significant farm loss to report is Heather’s beloved 1989 Toyota truck—the same one she took to Wake Forest—which “died” on the way to pick up Mamaw’s Christmas tree. This tragedy left us with the stressful task of finding a replacement over the holidays (and a team of horses, while Heather’s dream, wasn’t really a practical option).  After a fairly painless negotiation, we purchased “Big Blue,” a 2008 Chevy Silverado that is tricked out with automatic locks and windows, air-conditioning, AND a four-wheel drive system that doesn’t involve getting out of the truck and locking the wheels!  We feel spoiled.


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So, come visit us in Tennessee and we’ll take you for a spin!


The 1989 Toyota on it's last great mission in the hay field



Lance, Heather, and Thomas (and Mamaw)