#52stories - Week 5

Dad.

My dad was born November 4, 1919, in Stonewall Jackson Memorial Hospital in Lexington, Virginia.  The Hospital was what is now the historic Stonewall Jackson house located at 8 East Washington Street.  Here is a picture of him circa 1920 with his two brothers, Tate on the left and Jim on the right.  This is in front of their house. Under that is a photo of the hospital where he was born (found at http://www.stonewalljackson.org/birthdayclub.html).

 

He was named John Addison Alexander, Jr, after his father.  His mother's name was Janet Ingles Fultz.  He lived with his parents and brothers in the same house in which I first remember living.  Grandma Sally (his father's mother) and Uncle John (her brother) lived with them.  The house was in the South River District of Rockbridge County on a road that is now called Borden Grant Trail.  Here's a picture taken in the 1920s of the farm, but this is pretty much how it looked when I lived there 35 years later.

Dad's father died in January 1923.  Shortly afterward, his mother moved her sons into her mother's house, which is known as Cherry Grove Estate.  It is located on Rt. 11 just north of the village of Fairfield.

Dad attended elementary school through (I think) eighth grade at Fairfield High School, which included grades 1-12.  But he did not attend high school there.  He attended high school in Covington, Virginia.  His Uncle Wiley Lipscomb, who was a widower and lived in Covington, had been ill; and one of Dad's aunts who was a nurse was there taking care of him.  The story goes that it was not considered proper for his unmarried aunt (who also was Wiley's sister-in-law) to be co-habitating with a man.  So Dad served as a kind of chaperone while Wiley's son was away in college.  Dad graduated from Covington High School in 1938, where he excelled in athletics--specifically, football and basketball.   I have many pictures related to his high school years, but I'll just insert here pictures of the schools. The top one is Fairfield from the cover of a compilation of yearbooks published about 1998.  The bottom one is a copy of a post card that I own.

After high school, Dad was offered a scholarship to attend Danville Military Institute in Danville, Virginia.  So he went there until the school closed in 1939.  Then he enrolled at Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University (VPI, now Virginia Tech). During his stay there, World War II broke out.  His class was offered an accelerated graduation by having the students attend classes during the summer.  His graduation, scheduled for May 1943, was moved up to March 1943 and  then cancelled to further accelerate the movement of the graduates into service. Here, I'll post Dad's VPI diploma.

When dad was living in Fairfield, and when we lived there as well, the family attended Fairfield Presbyterian Church.  The church is still active today.

Dad's military career started in 1943 and lasted until 1948.  He was sent to training around the country and eventually shipped out to Italy with the US Army's 88th Infantry.  He essentially walked from Pompeii up the Po Valley through Rome to Lake Como.  After the war ended, he was deployed to occupied Japan and served in the 441st Counter Intelligence Corps.  I am fortunate to have his copies of his entire Army career.  One of the documents in May 1944 grants him 10 days of leave in May 1944.  That was when he and Mom got married.  Here is a picture of Dad in Japan in 1947.

After returning to Virginia, Dad worked in Roanoke as an agent with Minnesota Mutual Life Insurance and as a salesman for Fair Acres Farm Store.  After moving back to Fairfield, he taught science and shop at Fairfield High School at the same time that he ran a farm.  In 1961, we moved down the road a few miles to Buena Vista, Virginia, and he was a salesman for a swimming pool company.  In 1962, we moved to Winston-Salem, North Carolina, because he had changed jobs.  Initially, he marketed Top Value trading stamps (the yellow ones).  He spent the rest of his career as a traveling salesman representing various companies, including one that made chicken coops and one that made tung oil.

Dad died November 8, 2002, in Winston-Salem, North Carolina.  He is buried in the ARP Presbyterian Church Cemetery in Timber Ridge, Virginia.  Here's one last photo of Dad with Mom in a church directory picture that is not dated.

#52stories - Week 4

Mom. 

My mother was born January 2, 1923, in her parents' home at 3312 Florida Avenue in Richmond, Virginia.  Here is a picture of her in 1923 with Ruth, her sister, and Scott, her brother.  She said that a photographer would come by with the goat and cart and take pictures.  This is in front of their house.

She was named Jean Graham Barnett.  I don't know where the Jean came from; but she was named Graham after her father, John Graham Barnett, Jr.  Her mother was Gracie Allen Van Pelt. 

She lived with her parents, the siblings pictures above, and her half-sister, Eleanor Royall, in the Highland Park neighborhood in Richmond. This picture of Highland Park Public School was taken by by Morgan Riley (own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=16024158).  It is the first school that Mom attended and is still standing at 2928 Second Avenue (at the corner of Brookland Park Blvd and Second Ave).

I'm not sure where she attended middle school, but she graduated from John Marshall High School in 1940.  She was a typist for the school newspaper called The Monocle.  They only had 11 grades at that time, so she was 17 when she graduated.  The old building has been torn down, but was located near the present campus of the Medical College of Virginia.  Here is a post card showing what it looked like (found on http://www.oldjayem.com/). 

Her family attended Highland Park Methodist Church, which was on Second Avenue catty-cornered from the elementary school.  This is a picture of the church from Google Map' it is still standing but I don't think it's a Methodist church anymore. 

After high school, Mom attended Richmond Professional Institute, now known as Virginia Commonwealth University, for one year.  She said that when they made her dissect a frog in biology, she decided college wasn't for her.  One of her first lobs was as a secretary in the Old City Hall building, seen below (found on https://www.nps.gov/nr/travel/richmond/OldCityHall.html). 

After she and Dad got married in May 1944, I don't know of any jobs that Mom had outside of the home...until my junior year in high school (1968).  Then she started working for the Forsyth County Health Department.  Later she switched jobs and worked for the NC Department of Social Services office in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. She stayed there until she retired.

So, I'll end this story with a few pictures of my mom over the years. From the top: Mom in Japan circa 1947; in a church photo circa late 1960s; and another church photo circa 2005.  She still looks like the last one, just a bit older.

 

#52stories - Week 3

Me.  From the beginning. 

I was born  on Monday, June 9, 1952, at the Roanoke Memorial and Crippled Children's Hospital in Roanoke, Virginia.   Here is a postcard photo of the hospital from that time frame. (Courtesy of https://digital.lib.ecu.edu/39186).

 

And this is me shortly afterward taken (I assume) at our home on Tennessee Avenue in Roanoke. I do not remember living there.  I took a picture of the house a couple of years ago and if I can find it, I will include it in an update to this post.

My parents named me Nancy Lynn Alexander.   I don't know where the Lynn came from. But the Nancy is for my aunt Nancy Belle Alexander.  She was my dad's father's sister. I remember her, but not very well because she died in 1958 when I was 6 years old.  Here are two pictures of Aunt Nanny.  One is from her passport application taken in 1923.  The other is later, and she looks more like I remember her.  I don't know the year or where it was taken.

 

My mother told me that I was born on Monday because her obstetrician liked to schedule deliveries of his patients.  He gave my mother castor oil in orange juice to induce labor, which explains why my mother never really liked orange juice.  My brother was also born on a Monday about 17 months later--same doctor.  I was delivered by Dr. Rufus P. Ellett.  I found a picture of Dr. Ellett in the VMI 1940 Yearbook his senior year, so it was before he became a doctor.

After I was married, I learned that my mother had taken diethylstilbestrol (DES) during her pregnancy with me to prevent a miscarriage.  I wrote to Dr. Ellett's office and was fortunate that they could retrieve my mother's records and tell me what she had been given.  I have not experienced the health problems that have been associated with this medication.

#52stories - Week 2

Home.  What is home?  Where is home?  Webster's disctionary defines home in several ways:  the place you reside, the social unit formed by a family living together, a familiar or usual setting (as in "home is where the heart is"), and a place of origin.  I feel at home in at least four locations.

Fairfield, Virginia.  This is the first place I remember living and it still feels like I'm going home when I visit there now.  We lived on a farm on what is now Borden Grant Trail in a red brick house that originally belonged to my great-grandparents.  There was a huge garden, a grapevine, lots of land, a creek, woods, hills, two barns, a sawmill, and a playhouse.  We moved there when I was 2 years old and stayed until I was 9 years old (1954-1961).  Our closest neighbors were a field away in both directions.  My dad's two brothers and their families lived there, as well as other relatives.  I went to school and church with my cousins, many of whom still live there.  We moved to a house down the road from the farm, where we lived for 1 year before moving to North Carolina.  Fairfield feels like home because it is a "place of origin" for my family.  My Alexander ancestors moved there in the 1740s and Alexanders have lived there ever since.

Winston-Salem, North Carolina.  We moved us to North Carolina in 1962 because my dad switched jobs and that was, more or less, the center of his territory.  We first lived in a rental house on Ivy Avenue in north Winston.  We lived across the street from Blum Park, which was a great place to play.  I was in the 5th grade and attended North Elementary.  In the 6th grade, I went to Lowrance Elementary.  I walked to school and to church at Burkhead Methodist.  In 1964, my parents bought a house across town off of Jonestown Road--205 Araminta Drive.  From there, I attended Southwest Junior High and West Forsyth High School.  My parents stayed in that house until after my dad had died and my mom moved to a retirement complex.  She is still living in Winston, as are many friends that I have known for about 50 years.  I lived there through my college years.  In 1974, I moved to DC.  But I still feel a certain special familiarity with Winston when I visit.

Chapel Hill, North Carolina. While I only lived in Chapel Hill for the 4 years I attended college there (1970-1974), it is probably the place I would most describe as "where my heart is."  Many people do not realize that I did not have a preference to go to Carolina when I was in high school. I applied to NC State and Duke, as well; and was ambivalent about which one I would attend.  My criteria for where I went was that they offer a math degree.  I decided I would go to whichever one made the best offer in terms of financial aid. NC State offered me student loans.  Carolina offered me a Johnston Scholarship, a new one that started that year.  It would cover most of my expenses for a year.  I hadn't heard from Duke, so I accepted admission and the scholarship to Carolina.  A couple of weeks later, I received a scholarship offer from Duke.  It would cover the equivalent proportion of expenses; but by that time, I had already settled on Carolina and decided to stick with it.  I have never regretted that choice.  I met one of my best friends in my first college roommate.  In fact, she arranged my first date with Rex; so she has known him longer than I have.  I learned about football in Chapel Hill.  And basketball, of course. I saw performances there by Chicago, Chuck Berry, Livingston Taylor, Smokey Robinson & the Miracles, and others.  I heard speakers that included Roger Mudd and Jane Fonda; the latter attended a pot luck dinner in my dorm.  I saw streakers there.  I took more Calculus than I ever knew existed and made many lifelong friends there.  Chapel Hill and Carolina have changed over the years, but they still give me the feeling of being home as soon as I reach Franklin Street.  I wish that experience for anyone who attends college.

Fairfax Station, Virginia.  I have lived in Fairfax Station since Rex and I bought our current house in 1980. This is the place I reside, but it's more than that.  Whenever I go "home" to the places above or travel elsewhere, this is the place that really feels like home.  It's the place where I know I can sleep in my own bed and get a good rest.  We moved here before we had children, so I also have so many memories of Andy and Emily here.  Birthdays, Christmases, Easters, sleepovers. Andy learning to ride a bike.  Emily throwing water balloons in the driveway.  Both of them swinging on the swing set--separately and together.  I can't begin to tell all those stories.  And I expect this to be the last place that will really feel like home.  I anticipate having to move at some point to a retirement community that offers continuum of care options.  But I'm not sure that it will feel like home.  Only time will tell. 

#52stories - Week 1

Familysearch.org is encouraging people to document their own life histories through a project called 52 stories.  In this project, you are to write one brief story about your life every week during 2017. I am late getting started, but decided it is a worthwhile thing to do.  And what better place to post the entries than my blog?  So here goes.

Mumps.  I originally planned to start at the beginning of my life, but I think this will be more interesting.  A couple of days ago, Rex (my husband) asked me if I had the mumps as a child.  Yes, I did.  And let me tell you what I remember about having the mumps.

I was in the 3rd grade--Mrs. Borthwick's class at Fairfield High School--when I got the mumps.  So that was 1960 or 1961. I remember staying home for several days, maybe a week.  It was during the school year, but I don't remember the season.  My mom set me up downstairs in the family room on a daybed. There was a television in the room, but I don't remember watching anything. The daybed was by the window and I could look out at the mountains at the back of the house.  I remember my throat hurt and I could only swallow soft things and liquids. Then I went back to school.

But the story doesn't end there.  After I went back to school, the rest of the family got sick.  I think it was Sally on Monday, Graham on Tuesday, Cathie on Wednesday, and Mom on Thursday.  Dad had the mumps as a child, so he didn't get sick.  After Mom got sick, the women in the community started bringing all kinds of great food to the house--casseroles, desserts, you name it.  The fridge was full.  And it was all mine! And Dad's, of course.  We feasted while the others had throats too sore to eat the good stuff.

Yesterday it occurred to me that there might be other points of view.  So I asked Cathie if she remembered having the mumps.  She did, but she didn't remember that I had brought them home.  She remembered being in the living room with other family members and everyone being sick.  That was unusual because we usually slept upstairs.  And the living room was hardly ever used.  She said she thinks she mainly ate custard. She was in the 7th grade.  And she recalls that the mumps ran through my uncle Tate's family after we were finished with it.

I asked Graham, and he also remembered most of the family getting the mumps and being in the living room.  He slept on the sleep sofa that was in that room.  He remembers Reverend MacDonald from Fairfield Presbyterian Church stopping by to visit and praying for them.  He also remembers the community bringing food, including a Pyrex dish of macaroni and cheese. He was in Mrs. Whitehurst's 1st grade class.  Sally does not remember having mumps; she was 2 years old.

And that's the end of the mumps story.