#52stories - Week 9 (should've been Mar 1st)

Secondary school - part 2.  

I am behind schedule on my stories because I got hung up on what to say about high school.  I didn't have any bad experiences in high school, so the mental block is confusing.  I'm just going to start writing.

West Forsyth High School - grades 10-12: I attended these three grades at West Forsyth in Clemmons and generally rode the bus to get there.  It is literally around the corner from Southwest.  In fact, when I was in high school, we played our football games on the field behind Southwest.  West did not have it's own field as it does now. And, yes, high school was only 3 years--sophomore, junior, and senior.

West opened in 1964.  I remember touring it the summer before it opened because my sister was going to go there.  It is a campus style school, meaning that there are separate buildings for different departments that are connected by covered walkways.  But you go outside to change classes in most cases.  Harold Simpson was our principal and now has a building named after him.  Mr. Anderson, one of my English teachers, also has a building named after him now.

I had decided in the 8th grade that I wanted to major in math in college, so I continued my pursuit of that by taking algebra II and calculus.  All of my math classes were taught by Mrs. Greene.  I felt fortunate to have been exposed to calculus in high school; most of my college friends did not have that option.  I also took English each year and some sort of social studies/history--whatever was required--as well as P.E.  Electives included creative writing with Mrs. Clarke, Contemporary Affairs with Mr. Robinson, and French III and IV.  I don't remember what else.  For science, I took chemistry, physics, and Advanced Placement (AP) chemistry.

A word about AP classes:  All AP classes for the county were offered at Reynolds High School in downtown Winston-Salem.  To take AP, you had to be recommended by a teacher.  My teachers recommended me for history, chemistry, English, and one more, I think; but I could only take one of them. I remember having to choose from among four. They were offered first and last period.  That way, you could have the period after or before to commute to or from your assigned high school.  I chose chemistry.  My classmates included students from Reynolds, Parkland, Mt. Tabor, and maybe more.  My teacher was laid back and we got away with a lot.  Of course, I was not an instigator, but I learned a lot from the other students.  Like, you can take the gas hose and put it in a beaker of soapy water to create bubbles; then touching a flame to the bubbles creates an atomic bomb shaped flame.  Also, if you fill a dropper with acetone and squirt it through the burner flame, it will burst into flames on whatever surface it lands, usually a desktop or the floor.  The guys also taught me to shoot spit wads through a straw...a skill I think I have lost.

My first year, I tried out for majorettes and was selected.  I hadn't twirled in a couple of years, so I was very nervous about try outs.  My senior year, I was selected as chief. That meant that I had to choreograph all of our routines and teach them to the rest of the squad.  We would get the music from the band director. We performed at halftime for all football games, performed at pep rallies in the gym, and marched with the band in parades.  We twirled regular batons at most events, but twirled fire batons at least once during football season.  We always tied our hair back on fire baton nights; and we pre-soaked our uniforms in a fire retardant solution.  Nonetheless, we always lost the hair on our forearms and smelled singed after the performance. The fire batons were owned by the school and consisted of a staff with a "wick" on each end that was about 3 or four inches long and wrapped around the staff.  We would soak the wicks in kerosene and light them just before the performance.  To douse the fire, we would swing them very fast, one end at a time.  More recently, I have seen majorettes use a contraption that looks like a tube that smothers the flame; that would've been nice.  I still have the recipe for the fireproofing solution.  I don't know if you can still get the ingredients.

I also was in the National Honor Society, Y-teens, the yearbook staff, and served as student government treasurer my senior year. 

We had lots of student teachers from Wake Forest University.  Proms were held in the high school gym and were decorated by the students. Students could smoke in a designated area if their parents gave them permission to do so.  Female students who became pregnant were not allowed to talk about it at school and usually finished their studies elsewhere. Female students were not allowed to wear pants; I remember one person being sent home for wearing a pantsuit.  And skirts generally had to touch the floor when you knelt, although that was not strictly enforced if the skirt was just above the knee. I'm sure I could say more, but I've said enough.  

Here's a picture of me with Bobby Binkley at senior prom. I made my dress...and I still have it.

#52stories - Week 8 (Feb 22nd)

Secondary school - part 1.

After 6th grade, we moved to the western side of town and stayed there though my high school and college years. I rode the bus to school until I could drive.  Then I sometimes drove to school, but I had to drop Mom off at work across town first and pick her up at the end of her work day.

Southwest Junior High - grades 7-9:  Because I had not attended one of the feeder schools to Southwest, my parents had to enroll me there as a new student.  I remember going with them to meet Principal Moses Bridges.  Everything went fairly smoothly.  But I wanted to take "new" math in 7th grade and I had missed the required cutoff score on the standardized placement test by a point or two.  My parents advocated for me and Mr. Bridges agreed to let me try it.  If he had not agreed, I would not have been able to take Calculus my senior year.  So I have always been grateful for that.

Over the next 3 years, I took math, science, English, history, and physical education (P.E.) every year.   A few words about P.E. class.  While I generally enjoyed P.E. class, it was definitely new.  We had to wear white uniforms that consisted of shorts and a top.  We were required to shower after class unless we had our periods.  In that case, when your name was called for attendance, you would respond with "X".  This was quite embarrassing in junior high.  It was the first time I had encountered the group shower situation and I have never liked it.

My 7th grade math teacher was Mr. Shepherd, one of the first two male teachers I had; he also taught my health science class.  North Carolina history was taught in the 7th grade and I had Mr. Ellingham, the other male teacher I had that year, for that.  He also taught Language Arts, a.k.a. English, in a combined class.  My electives were French, Arts & Crafts, and Fine Arts. Mrs. Broughton taught P.E.  At the beginning of the year, I went to get my hair cut and the hairdresser went a little overboard.  Also, I still wore glasses.  The result was my all-time least favorite school picture:

In 8th grade, it was Mrs. Grove for English and social studies, Miss Martin for Algebra I, Mrs. Mooney for physical science, and Mrs. Broughton again for P.E. My electives were French, art, and homemaking, which was required for all female students. 

In 9th grade, I had Mrs. Hill for English and social studies, Miss Martin for Geometry, Mr. Wiley for biology, and Miss Pruitt for P.E.  My electives were French, art, music appreciation, and health.  Mrs. Hill was a piece of work.  I did well in her class because I was a good student. But I remember her ridiculing students who didn't know how to spell Gethsemane.  After about four students missed it, I got it right and the ridicule stopped.  That's just one example that I remember.  I recall that 2 years later my brother had her; and, when he complained about her, my parents were skeptical.  But I assured them that she was really not a nice teacher and I was sure his account was accurate.  Because my dad had been a teacher, my parents usually took the teacher's side in arguments...until that year.  Also that year, I was begging my parents to buy me new glasses so that I could ditch those ugly ones from 7th grade.  They said no, but agreed to let me get contacts if the eye doctor agreed.  So, in 1967, I got my first pair of contact lenses.  And here's my 9th grade picture:

During these 3 years, I met many people who I still consider to be close friends.  We do not live close to each other but we have stayed in touch. I don't remember having any extracurricular activities during this time.  But I might have continued with safety patrol in 7th grade.  I remember that I advanced to the rank of Lieutenant, but that might have been in 6th grade. The school is still there, but is now an elementary school.  And, no, my memory is not that good; I still have my report cards for all grades, although I did not refer to them until this blog entry.

#52stories - Week 7 (Feb 15th)

Elementary school - part 2.

4th Grade:  Between 3rd and 4th grades, my family moved down the road a few miles. That meant that I went to 4th grade at Mountain View Elementary School in Buena Vista, VA.  Again, I rode the bus to school.  Mrs. Mackey was my teacher.  She was old, but very nice.  She realized that I could not see the blackboard and moved me toward the front of the classroom and mentioned it to my parents.  So I started wearing glasses in the 4th grade. My mom also told me that she was the first teacher to compliment me to Mom on being a good student.  What I remember is having a couple of the girls in the class not like me because they had always been the top two students in the class until I arrived.  Apparently, I bumped them down to 2nd and 3rd place.  This was the year we learned Virginia history.  That's about it for 4th grade. Here's me with glasses in 4th grade.

5th Grade:  We moved to Winston-Salem, NC, in the summer after 4th grade.  I started the year with Mrs. Norman and ended the year with Miss Palmer at North Elementary School on Patterson Avenue. They were both younger than any teacher I had had so far and they were both nice. I walked the a little over half a mile to school. The school was torn down many years ago, but I found this photo at the Library of Congress online at http://www.loc.gov/pictures/resource/hhh.nc0463.photos.212413p/.  The library has several pictures of the outside and inside of the school.

The big news/controversy at the beginning of the year was that the school became integrated.  And by integrated, I mean that one single brave black girl attended the school; she was either in the 1st or 2nd grade.  I'm sorry to say that the reaction of many parents was to pull their students out of North Elementary and transfer them to other schools.  The class size seemed to drop daily for several months.  It dropped so much that the principal decided to combine the two 5th grade classes into one.  And that's why I ended up in Miss Palmer's class at the end of the year.  Just before the holiday break, Miss Palmer assigned an extra credit project that involved making a list of words from the letters in "Merry Christmas."  She promised a special prize to the student who got the most words. I won that contest hands down...way more words than anyone else.  Thank you, Mrs. Borthwick! The prize, which took much nagging and some months to receive, was a Big Book of Answers that contained a lot of info about science and nature.  I remember one item explained how and why fireflies tails light up.  This was the year of the Cuban Missile Crisis and practicing "duck and cover".  One day one of my classmates said that he had heard that the US had declared war.  By the time I got home, I was hysterical, but Mom assured me it was not true.  It was an anxious time.  This was also the year that I learned to twirl a baton.  My next door neighbor had four children, one of whom was a year ahead of me.  She was a majorette for the Tiny Vikings, a junior midget football team.  They had a cheerleaders and a twirling team and the Mom next door organized the latter. My parents bought me the baton that I needed (and I still have) and I'm sure Mom made my uniform. I see online that this is now a flag football league; it was regular football then.  My brother was on the team.  I had begun the year with a bad case of impetigo on my chin, so I felt like I had leprosy.Nonetheless, I made friends. JoAnna Self was my best friend, but her family moved across town to Polo Road and we grew apart in middle school.

6th Grade:  For this grade, my parents enrolled me at Lowrance Elementary, which was next to Hanes High School and even closer  to our house.  I walked a little less than half a mile to school. Mrs. Oakes was my teacher.   In addition to JoAnna Self, Vickie Green was another good friend.  Vicki was obsessed with The Beatles, while I was not.  I liked their music but didn't get the screaming, swooning stuff.  She lived with her grandmother who was a very strict Baptist.  We had many sleepovers.  I lost touch with Vicki but we were reunited somewhat when she ended up at my high school.  But we were not as close in high school as we were in elementary school. I continued to be a majorette with the Tiny Vikings.  For Halloween this year, I dressed up in my majorette uniform and went trick or treating with my next-door neighbor, who wore her uniform. We were in Blum Park and there was a talent contest, so we decided to join.  We basically just twirled the baton and whispered to each other when to change to a new move (some of the moves are the pancake, double pancake, figure 8, around the world, two-handed spin).  We won an entire box of full-sized Hershey chocolate bars!  On a sad note, this was the year that Kennedy was assassinated.  Several kids had transistor radios that they would listen to on the way home (especially during the World Series).  One guy in my class turned his radio on as we were leaving the school.  So I was walking across the school yard when he called out that the President had been shot.  I think I ran most of the way home and my mom confirmed the news.  I remember that my grandmother was visiting.  It was a very sad time, even though my parents had supported Nixon.  It was still tragic.  I remember the television showing Jack Ruby shooting Lee Harvey Oswald.  I had just left the living room and missed seeing it live, but heard the announcers saying what happened.  We all went in to watch the TV at that point.

So, I attended four separate elementary schools. It didn't seem as disjointed as it was happening as it does now.  It was even worse for my brother. He started 1st grade at Fairfield, then had 2nd at Mt. View, 3rd at North, 4th at Lowrance and 5th & 6th at South Fork.  And it was a little better for my older sister because she attended Fairfield for her entire elementary school; and, when I switched in 4th grade, she continued to the newly-opened Rockbridge High School with her friends.  And in Winston, she attended Hanes for 2 years while I attended North & Lowrance.

#52stories - Week 6 (Feb 8th)

Elementary school - part 1.

My siblings might have expected I would turn to them next, but I'm switching from family to other things.  I initially planned to have one entry on elementary school.but it got too long, so I split it into two parts.

There was no kindergarten where I started school.  But if you ask me sister, Cathie, she'll say she was my kindergarten teacher.

1st Grade: I attended 1st through 3rd grades at Fairfield High School in the village of Fairfield, VA. This school housed grades 1 through 12.  My dad taught 8th grade science and shop there, and he was the faculty sponsor for the Future Farmers of America (FFA). My aunt, Libby Alexander, also taught there and my cousin, Mary Lipscomb, substituted from time to time.  I rode the bus to school.  You can see a picture of the school on my post about my Dad in my week 5 story. My 1st grade teacher was Mrs. Hayes. She was stern and old (to me).  The classroom was by the gym if I remember correctly.  Mrs. Hayes made me stand in the corner one day after lunch because she said I kicked Duane Fitzgerald's ice cream out of his hand at lunch.  If I did, I had no clue and it would have been accidental.  She said he told her I was swinging between chairs.  OK, maybe I did that.  Still, you'd think I had to swing my legs pretty high to knock an ice cream cone out of his hands.  I remember learning the alphabet, which Cathie had probably already taught me, no doubt. One day when we were practicing writing our whole names, my cousin Alec (Alexander) Lipscomb crept back to my desk to ask me how to spell Alexander.  So I'm guessing Mrs. Hayes wouldn't let him just write Alec, which is what everyone called him and calls him today! 

2nd Grade: Mrs. Whitehurst was my teacher and her classroom was also off of the gym, I think..  She was even older than Mrs. Hayes (in my opinion) but she was super nice.  She taught us cursive writing.  I had my first boyfriend in 2nd grade: Joey Bishop.  His family moved away the following summer, so it was a short-lived romance. I learned Roman numerals this year.  I think it was an extra credit assignment, but I wrote them on paper up to MM (2000). The rest of second grade was uneventful.

3rd Grade: This was the year I had the mumps, which I covered in my week 1 story. Mrs. Borthwick was my teacher. She had us start the day with a checklist.  If we could check off each item on the checklist, we got a star!  The list included getting in bed by 9 pm the night before, having a clean handkerchief, eating breakfast, etc.  I think it included saying your prayers, too.  One day, I checked off the items and she said (in front of the entire class), "I know you weren't in bed by 9 last night because I saw you at the flower show at church."  I was devastated.  When I went home and told Mom, she said I was in bed by 9 and she was clearly miffed at the teacher.  Mrs. Borthwick drilled us on multiplication tables.  I credit her with my knowledge of those, but her method was terrifying!  She would line us up opposite other students and would point at one of us randomly and yell "3 times 9!" If you didn't answer in about 2 seconds, you got a scowl and she would turn to the next victim...er, student..and yell "3 times 9!" That continued until someone got it right.  Of course, your chances of getting the right answer increased with each failure because you had more time to recall the answer.  Mrs. Borthwick's class put on a play every year and alternated between an Indian theme and a cowboy theme.  It was cowboys my year, so we sang cowboy-themed songs and dressed like cowboys and cowgirls.  Below is a picture of our performance that appeared in The Lexington Gazette.

Mrs. Borthwick also wanted to make sure that we recognized the military branches theme songs.  So, again, she lined us up in four lines that created a square facing each other.  She would designate one line each the Marines, Army, Air Force, and Navy.  Then she would play one of the songs and the appropriate line was supposed to march in place.  I remember her playing The Cassion Song and everyone looking nervously around waiting for someone to recognize the song.  When the pressure got to be too much, one of the lines starting marching that was not the Army line and she yelled, "No, no, no! You're not the Army! That's the Army song!"  I don't know if we ever got it right.  She had "seat work" to keep us occupied while she was working with subgroups of the class.  Mainly this consisted of making a list of words from the letters of a larger word.  My skill at this came in handy in 5th grade. Another memory is that a show was being presented in the auditorium by some external group and a live kangaroo was there.  I really wanted to see that kangaroo, but admission was a dime and I didn't remember to bring a dime.  Mrs. Borthwick let me go to my dad's class to see if I could get a dime from him.  His classroom was in a separate building but no one heard me knocking on the door, so I didn't get the dime.  I was one of about three students who didn't get to go.  We also took field trips in 3rd grade.  Two that I remember were a visit to the local newspaper at The Lexington Gazette and a performance of the National Symphony Orchestra.  Both of these were in Lexington, VA. The National Symphony performed Peter and the Wolf and the conductor (I assume) explained to us which animals the various instruments represented.  Before the performance, someone from the paper came up and got three of us seated on the end of the row to go down and see the instruments up close.  So Carol Ramkey, Duane Fitzgerald (of the aforementioned ice cream incident), and I got to strum a harp and play a drum. Our picture appeared in The Gazette, as shown below.

Looking back at these makes me think  that Mrs. Borthwick had a parent who acted as the class's public relations person.  Last memory of 3rd grade: One Sunday, Bly Ann Buzzard and I had sat together in church and whispered to each other a couple of times.  Mrs. Borthwick sang in the choir.  The next day, she began class with the announcement, "I was so embarrassed by you and you for talking in church yesterday!" as she pointed to Bly Ann and me.  Sheesh.

#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.

This is Edna Ingles Gilkeson, daughter of Letitia Margaret Tate and John William Gilkeson.  She is my second cousin three times removed. Edna was a 1897 graduate of Mary Baldwin Seminary, receiving a diploma in "both the university course and in Elocution." In 1898. she was a teacher in Wytheville, VA.

At first, I couldn't find much about her and then I found the below correspondence from the American Consul.  Apparently, she left the U.S. in 1911 and, when she tried to return, her citizenship was questioned.

As Edna explains, she went to Alexandria, Egypt, in September 1911 "as a member of the Foreign Mission of the United Presbyterian Church of North America." and "remained with the Mission in Egypt until 1916, when I left and entered upon war work, helping to manage several tea rooms for soldiers in Alexandria and supporting myself."


Her mother wrote a note verifying her birth in the United States and a member of her church provided documentation of her birth, baptism, and membership in Bethel Presbyterian Church.

 

I then searched Passport Applications and found hers, which included the picture above.  I also found her on a passenger list returning to New York City from Plymouth, England.