Setting Flight to the Dreams of Children

Most of us have at least one intensely special memory of excitement as a child. For some of us, it was a trip somewhere special or the arrival of a new sibling or pet. For my Grandmother, one of the most enchanting experiences she had as a child was her first flight. She told me more than once about this experience. In fact she told most everyone she knew about this story. I nodded and confirmed that the story was interesting but it wasn't until recently that I understood the utter outpour of thrill that she couldn't resist sharing with others. The famous and adventure packed life of Paul Redfern intersected with my grandmother's for a brief moment in time on the red sandy earth of Swansea, South Carolina in 1924. She was nine years old. She was right.

Newspaper clippings and web printout B.B. saved 

Bits from B.B.

Did I ever tell you about the story of my first airplane ride? Oh, Mama was not happy with me but I reckon it was one of the funnest days of my life. It's a wonder I have any sense at all being the youngest of four children, at least that's what they used to tell me. It was a hot summer day. I was at the pond with Jake and Ruby. All of a sudden we heard the roar of an airplane circle above us. The pilot went round and round Swansea and we knew who it was. It was Paul Redfern. I overheard Papa talking about him at dinner the other night. He was from Columbia, his family was quite well known in the social circles. Papa said he was flying to towns all over the state to raise money for his non-stop flight to South America. I just had to see what all of the fuss was about. We ran together and tried to follow him. Mr. Redfern flew low and we could see him waiving at us in his one motor plane. He finally landed in a cotton field nearby. By this time he had an audience. When he landed he jumped out of the plane and had such a way about him. He stood proud and was smiling ear to ear. Then he announced "Now which one of you kids would like to come and take a ride with me and experience what it is like to fly?" Everyone took a few steps back and it got pretty quiet. I knew this was my chance. I shouted "Me! I would like to go sir!" Mr. Redfern responded "Well alright there little lady jump in." Ruby and Jake gasped for air and hollered at me. They did not want me to do this and they knew Mama would have my hide. I scrambled to that plane before they could stop me and told him to fire up the engine. The minute I sat down Ruby and Jake ran back to the house to tell Mama what had happened. I held on to the metal sides of the plane as we were whisked up into the air. I was not sure I would survive this ride but it was absolutely thrilling! My stomach was full of butterflies as we climbed into the clouds.

Here I was, nine years old, flying in the sky. No one in that small town had been in an airplane until now. I was on top of the world. Mr. Redfern swooped and dove and glided over the town. He didn't know it but he flew that plane right over our home up on the hill near the pond. I saw Mama running out with a dishtowel in her hand headed for the cotton field. I don't know how long we were in the air but it felt like eternity. I had never seen the world from that view or felt wind on my face like I did that day. I think about that flight all the time. Thankfully Mama wasn't too upset with me she was just glad that we landed safely. After I jumped out I gave Mr. Redfern a big hug and thanked him for that first airplane ride. Then he told everyone he would give more rides for donations that he would use for his big upcoming flight. I think Bess ran home and got money and took a flight as well as Ed. That day was the talk of the town for some time. We read and listened to anything we could find out about Mr. Redfern's big flight. Even though they never found him we would daydream about all the possibilities. I can just see him with that smile taking on new adventure in South America.

Bits from Me

As I reflect about this story I immediately have multiple feelings to navigate. The first thing that strikes me is the freedom children had "back" then. My children would never have that type of opportunity now. Part of me is angry because I have a gypsy soul that needs to be fed and I feel for the technology bombarded children of our world who have an innate desire for exploration and adventure. While I never jumped on an airplane with a stranger I roamed creek beds by myself and rode my bike alongside of train tracks for miles. However, the responsible parent in me is glad that it would be virtually impossible for my child to jump on an airplane without me signing some form and waiving all rights. Today it is rare that any of our children will have an organic experience of chance and whimsy.  Our desire to protect and create ultimate safety in our lives comes with a consequence of squashing chance.

The other thing that fascinates me is how everyone in her world (friends, relatives, and neighbors) knew this story too. I have a file full of newspaper clippings. Each one given to my grandmother by a friend. Each one with special notes written on it with specific sentences underlined. There was a total of four news paper clippings and one web printout in this folder she wanted me to have. All of the newspaper clippings were from The State Magazine from the years 1969, 1982, and 2002. Everyone knew how important this story was to her and took interest in helping her put together the details of such a remarkable day in her life. It makes me wonder, what kinds of conversations do we have these days? I surely don't know my friends remarkable childhood stories and most of them don't know mine. Do we put to bed our special memories because we are so inundated with stories and articles and pictures that we simply have no room to store them long term? Are we providing opportunities for our children to have unique experiences or are we giving them so many it waters down the organic few? Something else that strikes me is the way in which she had to just wait for information to reach her. There was really no way to learn more about him so she had to wait until information was published in the local paper. Year after year I am sure she sifted through the The State Magazine looking for more information that ignited adventurous feelings inside her similar to a love song that brings you back to the first sweet days of falling in love.

But after all this, there is something more remarkable to me: we now have another story to the Paul Redfern tale. Each article summarizes a relatively similar story about his heritage in Columbia, South Carolina and his famous departing flight in 1927. The most common nicknames like "The Lost Pilot" and "Ill-fated Aviator" plague the headlines. However, what about all the touch downs? What about the other children he carried and flew? The passion that drove his adventurous spirit was ignited and cought like wildfire in the hearts of children across the state. My grandmother was one. What about Greenville? What about Prosperity? How many times did he do this? You see his legacy might be remembered in the headlines as the pilot who almost made it and that his brave passion to be the first pilot to fly from the US to South America came to a tragic end, but we might just have it all wrong. What if his true mark on the world was to give wings to the dreams of children who would suffer through the great depression? Children who watched their fathers and mothers lose everything but lay awake at night thinking of that flight. Thinking they could literally overcome their woes by soaring in the clouds. What if he gave freedom and escape to children in rural South Carolina, enough to carry them through to achieve extraordinary things relative to their life. I think reading the articles in the newspaper make him seem like a dreamer and in some cases a failure. One headline reads "He wanted to set a record - the world's first non-stop flight from North America to South America". He made aviation history, but not the way he wanted to: he disappeared. One might think of an irresponsible person that does outlandish things for attention or the fame of it all. But that's not what I think. I think he had a passion that ran deep in his blood. A passion that he couldn't possibly help contain. A love that could never be fulfilled with just one big flight but of the many that we will never even know about experiencing of him flying over those cotton fields. The hot summer sun warming the wings of his plane. The sound that paired with the smell of the sweet pines. He ignited dreams of children. An unknown legacy with eternal rewards.

She asked me to write the Eulogy...

Houston, Texas 1982

A while back, my Grandma asked me to do the eulogy at her funeral. "Ya, sure" I said not really thinking about what this would entail. I mean how do you go there mentally and emotionally until you have to? Well I didn't think more about it and then last Sat, on May 5, my wonderful 97 year old Grandmother passed away. You can read her obituary that my Mom worked so hard on at the following link: http://www.thompsonsfuneral.com/obituaries/bernice-boozer-hill. She was an amazing woman. Built and lived her life almost entirely on her own. She never stopped living until the day she passed. She will be forever missed. This is the eulogy that I gave at her memorial service. I actually got through it but with many pauses. I tried that trick of imagining people in their underwear to keep myself calm but the average age in the room was probably 85 so that actually had a reverse effect. So I just kept thinking of my Grandma singing with the heavenly choir of angels and sitting at the Lord's feet with no more pain, sadness, or struggles and I felt peace.

Bits from Me:

My Grandmother would be so thrilled to see this celebration today. She really would. Thank you everyone for being here to support our family and commemorate her joyful life.

There are so many things that I want to share with you to celebrate this wonderful life. But where do I begin?! Ninety seven years worth of material, how do I pick what stories to share, what words to say, and what memories to particularly cherish? Well we all have our own. Each of them very unique memories of times with my grandmother. But I have to guess, that although different, there are some similarities between the threads that weave us together here in this room today.

I think you might agree with me when I say I am ONLY better for knowing her. What more could I ask for in a grandmother? The truth is we can never plan who God puts in our lives or even know why sometimes. But when we trust in Him and know he does have a plan, a good plan, we can then see the goodness in His design. I really only had one grandparent growing up, and boy did I win the lottery with this one. As she would say, we didn’t spend a dime during our time together but we had a million dollars worth of fun.

I think it is safe to say that all of you know her lifelong profession was teaching, specifically music and the 4^th grade. I would like to think of this as her last lesson: a lesson on life to all of her cherished students here on Earth.

·     1.  She would tell you to spend less money and save more. You really don’t need all the “stuff” in your life to keep you happy. In fact, she and her husband bought a second home in the 40s for investment purposes because her Daddy told her it was a good idea. She was making 75$ a month at the time.

·      2. She would tell you to age gracefully. Do this by not getting too much sun on your face, hang out with young people, and most importantly by living a simpler life. There is comfort in simplicity.

4.    3. She would tell you to  be cautious regarding promises of convenience. Sometimes convenience is replaced with consequence. For 97 years, she survived without owning a microwave or cell phone.

·      4. She would tell you that the best part of the country is the South and ultimately South Carolina is the best state. No questions here please. Authority rules.

·      5. She would tell you to raise your children with grateful hearts. A long life of splendor can only be awarded to those with minimal expectations.

·      6. She would tell you to be careful getting too serious in anything. Remember to have fun and keep you spirits up even through the trials and tribulations life brings. Life is for the living and it won’t do anyone any good, including you, to sit around not enjoying it. Enjoy responsibly.

·      7. She would tell you to be a part of a community. She was relentless with me during our phone calls in our early marriage asking if we had established a church. I get it now. We need each other. Whether you are family, friends, neighbors, pew buddies or even strangers passing by, we need each other to be the hands and feet of the Lord. I get it now, community gives us opportunity to connect.

·      8. She would tell you to love your neighbor as yourself. There is no sense in going into detail on this one. Regardless of if you like, dislike, agree, or disagree with, love them. This includes yankee republicans.

·      9. Last but not least, God is good. Trust His Love. This can be hard, but try. It will pay off in the end.

  

    Conclusions: So every time you see the trees and bushes in full bloom, hear an old classic on the radio like Side By Side, or cross over the South Carolina state line, think of her and smile. 

Trip To Columbia

I had the privilege of making a trip with my family to Columbia, South Carolina last week. I made a pitt stop to see my wonderful friend and college roommate, Mary Beth. We are kindred souls and always have a fabulous time together like no time has ever separated us. Next, I headed down to Cayce with the children in tow. I love the South! Spring was in full bloom and people were even starting to plant their gardens. In the city, there were farmers markets open for business along the streets with fresh produce. Off the country roads the red clay dirt peaked through fields of yellow wild flowers. I was as glad to be there, glad to be back, but wishing it were on different terms.  

Some of you know that a few weeks ago my Grandmother was placed in hospice care. Upon hearing this news I knew I had to get back and see her while she was well. I also wanted my kids to remember her house with her in it. Facing this part of life is not easy for any of us, especially the person going through it. However, she has shown so much grace and strength and remains the strong woman she has always been. After I was able to get over my apprehension, I was able to enjoy myself. What fun we had! I think I almost killed her by taking her to the zoo. Yes, that's right, we carried B.B. to the zoo (I was able to get her to use the wheel chair but oxygen tank .... NO thank you mam!) I captured many photos of her with the great grandkids and still can't believe she pulled off that trip. It just goes to prove her full-of-life personality is in full effect. 

In addition to finding activities to keep the kids happy, we took a self-guided tour of Swansea, SC. Swansea was where it all began for my Grandma. Her family moved to Swansea from Prosperity (roughly 1912?) and this small town would be where she grew up and started her own family.  I was with a living legend and asked her if anyone would know her. She honestly commented that most everyone that knew her from Swansea was dead or moved out. That's one bad part about living so long...you have to say goodbye to many friends and family and sort of make new because the rest are gone. It was a short drive through the town but I got to see my Mom's house growing up, my Grandma's house growing up, many family homes, the Boozer General Store front, and Grover's filling station. Basically my Grandma was born, raised, and started her own family in about a 5 mile radius! 

One afternoon, after some sweet tea and coconut cake, I pulled an old book out from her dining room buffet. The thing was massive in size (roughly size of a sheet of legal paper but five or six inches thick). The pages were tan brown and starting to crumble. On the first page was a newspaper cutout of a bride standing alone with a headline I couldn't stomach ....something like the town's pretties girl. Wasn't my Grandma folks, and I'm glad about that for a few reasons! I was so curious what else was inside. As I quietly skimmed through the book I saw notes and photos that were priceless and oh so story worthy! One in particular was of a handsome sailor with a sweet goodbye sentiment written underneath. He was headed off to the big world war and had to say one last farewell to his main squeeze. I hadn't heard these stories before. Time to start talking B.B.! I felt like I had just struck gold.

When I showed it to her, she asked me where I got it from and wasn't really sure what it was. I told her it looked like a young woman's scrap book and began reading some of the notes and describing some of the pictures (she has poor vision so could not really make it out herself). Turns out, it was her personal scrap book from college up until her marriage. I can't even begin to explain how charming and obviously throw-back some of these stories were. I can't wait to write about them! 

The photo I am using tonight will have to do until I get my hands on copied images from the book and the new photos I took on my mom's camera. See, I am desperate for someone else to teach my Mom how to get the images off her memory card. She just keeps buying more cards or waiting for a patient friend to help. I keep showing her how to do it, but you know those retirees, they just have to learn the hard way. Stay tuned for more. I have some fun plans ahead and am hoping time permits them.

When doing some research on Swansea, I came up with memoirs from John Joseph Howell. As I read through it, the Boozer General Store was mentioned as well as Mrs. Hill as a memorable teacher. I think I'll read his memories to Grandma and see if it sparks any memories of her own!

Rumble Seat Reminiscing

I might be a few days late and a dollar short but this post is extra special and worth the urgency. My lovely Grandmother turned 97 on Feb 9, 2012! I was privileged to speak with her on the phone while driving home in the evening and she seemed to be in wonderful spirits thanks to all the calls, cards, and special deliveries. Thanks to everyone who helped make her big day extra special. We got to talking about her past birthdays, taking time to talk about the special ones. My parents like to throw her a big birthday party every five years. Her 90th was the biggest and best in her opinion and in mine. My brother created a cd for her as a gift and distributed copies to everyone as a party favor. Since I am all about repurposing, I thought it would be a wonderful idea to share with you the song list he chose as it was carefully created to represent the soundtrack of her life. 

I pulled out the cd cover and scanned it into the computer. Then I realized there was no information about when and where this photo was taken. It is one of my favorites because she is so young and looks so confident, a virtue I wish all young ladies could have. She also looks a little like my Mom in this picture and I usually don't notice a resemblance between the two. Grandma had a lot to say about this one picture and I found it quite interesting.

Bits from B.B. Hill: 

That picture there is of me in front of the high school. I reckon I was a sophomore, so the year would have been 1932. I loved that car and was proud of it. The car belonged to Papa and was one of the few cars in town. See back then not just everyone had a car. I believe it was a Ford Coupe and I can vividly remember the rumble seat. You know, those rumble seats weren't the safest thing. I suppose Papa bought the car that way because it was less money. The car only had two doors and you had to step on the fender in order to get in the back. Girls didn't wear pants back then, only dresses, so you had to be real careful about how you stepped to get in to the rumble seat. I have good memories of going on double dates and I would sit in the rumble seat with my date while the other couple drove. You know, you can smooch or do whatever you like in that back seat. I may be old now, but I surely don't forget those  memories!

Example of the 1932 Ford Coupe with Rumble Seat

Papa let me drive the car to school one day and what happened on the way home I'll never forget. The car was full of girls and I was driving. I couldn't have been older than 15. It was raining hard that afternoon. I revved up the engine as I approached the big hill on the red dirt road. The car started slipping and sliding and eventually flipped. All of us girls were screaming, but thankfully no one was hurt and even more importantly, Papa never found out. He would have killed me, but hey, I was young and dangerous back then!

Growing up we didn't have birthdays back then. It just wasn't a priority. Momma and Papa were busy making a living so I don't have memories of turning a certain age growing up. After I got married, Grover always remembered my birthday and got me a card or we would go to Columbia on a date. We were living in Swansea and at that time didn't have lots of restaurants or movie theaters. When Janice was born we did celebrate her first birthday with a small party. I had a cake with a numeral one candle. A friend of mine threw her a 16th birthday. That was about it. When I turned 75 I planned a birthday party for myself. I rented a trolley car that took 28 ladies and I to the zoo. However, Janice surprised me by coming and arriving to the party on the trolley car. There wasn't a dry eye around. My 90th was the best though. There was a four piece band, wonderful food, and the music for everyone. See, I guess things just keep getting better with age.  Maybe there is a reason the good Lord is keeping me around.


Bits From Me:


I am so glad she has been able to enjoy life and is still pleased by the kind gestures, both small and large, that people present to her. I hope I can always live with a grateful heart regardless of the situation.
What a pleasant surprise to capture this quaint story that is both insightful to her youth and also a bit informative for me (not knowing anything about old cars or rumble seats for that matter). I truly cherish the pictures of I have of her and my Mom as they are few and far between. I think we only have a few photos of my Mom with her Daddy. Almost incomprehensible for me.

I am constantly wondering what I am going to do with all these photos I have taken of my children. Where am I going to keep them, should I print them, how am I going to keep them organized physically and digitally? To be honest, it is pretty overwhelming now that I am on kid three! I love that my Grandma knew exactly what picture I was referring to when I asked her over the phone to tell me more details. There were only a handful of pictures taken of her during her childhood, so each one is precious and comes with lots of memories. I wonder if the flood of pictures our children have now will water down the importance of the photos? Or maybe I need to do a better job of sifting through the masses and only keeping the select few favorites. The old saying less is more is true, but is so hard to live by in these times of abundance. Even though the pictures are "free" and are no cost for me to take, they come with small price of time and patience. Times that by the 10,000 photos I have and you are looking at a significant cost. I wonder how many quite moments or stories read I missed being mentally occupied with my photo obsession. Hey, I am a self proclaimed Mamarazzi you know!  But on the other hand, if I don't have these pictures (and equal ratios for each kid) then I feel like I am selling my children short somehow. Like if I don't hand them their own external hard drive maxed out with photos, videos, and edited slideshows at 18 I am robbing them of a documented and well noted childhood. Oh and not to mention what if I did get rid of a photo that I might need someday... the guilt! UGHH!

Fast forward to God willing when they are 97 and their Great Granddaughter asks "Tell me about these couple thousand photos from when you were fifteen?" and I can only imagine the response. The cost is now different than my time or patience; the cost is the repercussions of indulging my children. I know that parents of the Great Depression didn't sit and ponder these types of issues. When you are busy surviving in the true sense of the meaning of the word you don't have time or money to consider other options. However, when you do have the choice, sometimes it can be more of a curse than blessing. How can we find the balance between enjoying giving to our children with happy hearts and giving too much too soon to the point of spoiling. Obviously I am talking about more than just photographs, this  discussion applies to birthday parties, holidays, wardrobes, room decor, catering to likes and dislikes, and the list goes on.  I need to be more conscious of these issues and take the time to think about how my family should make decisions and handle situations as they approach.  For me personally, I need to remember to turn to the big book to help guide my heart and mind, which it surprisingly does every time.

Playlist Anthony created for Grandma's 90th Birthday Party 

A Hot Summer's Plate

Angel Cookies Jazzed up with a Fancy Plate

I was setting my table for Easter dinner a couple years ago. I like to do this ahead of time (a little trick my Mom taught me) because I can take my time and enjoy thinking about the wonderful food and fellowship that will go along with the holiday. Lots of wonderful thoughts swirled through my head while doing this, like how much I loved the table cloth that I got for my wedding shower from Jake’s Mom, all the memories from our engagement and wedding, and especially my Grandma’s generosity of giving me her Mother’s china. I couldn’t remember when exactly her Mother, my Great Grandmother, bought the plates so I decided I should call her and get the real story. Then I took a quiet moment and gave thanks for having a 95 year old grandmother that I could call and talk to anytime.

I rang up my Grandma and we talked a bit about the weather and the girls. Then I told her the main reason I was calling. She mentioned she was so happy she saved the dishes and that I could use them. The dishes belonged to her mother Bessy Zula Garrett, born March 12, 1886. Grandma got them when her Mother died. I asked her if there was a story behind the dishes and how Great Grandma got them. Little did I know there was a remarkable story, one that teaches discipline, hard work, and reward. 

Bits from B.B.Hill:

Momma’s name was Bessy Garrett and she was from the country in Prospect, South Carolina. Her Daddy was a farmer and needed boys to help him. Instead, he got seven girls and one boy! When he didn’t get any but one, he realized he needed to teach the girls how to work. Bessy could plow a mule straight and was quite proud of this skill! She was also blessed with a charming personality and nice looks. Three of the sisters were red headed like Momma. Momma’s hair was so pretty and long with auburn waves that tamed the eyes. She would pin it up in a figure eight in the back and I loved watching her do this.  

Momma married Thomas Jacob Boozer (Papa) and had three girls (Thelma, Ruby, me) and a son (Wilbur). People loved her. She was smart even though she only had a 4^th grade education. She was strict on kids, was a wonderful cook, and made her own clothes. People would come into Papa’s store to talk with her. She made him money by doing this as people would drive in from the country to talk with her and shop for goods. Everyone says I’m just like her – happy, laughs a lot, and has a bubbly personality. 

In the 1930’s there was a dirt road that went from Columbia, SC to Miami, Fl. She referred to it as Road 321. All the men working on the road needed shelter and it was common for people to take them in (board) for rent. It didn’t suit Papa to spend money on dishes so Mamma decided to open the home to the workers in order to make some money. That summer, five workers slept in the house. Thelma, Ruby, Wilbur and I slept on the back porch. Mamma and Papa slept in the kitchen. The men had three bedrooms to choose from so the man who got the room alone paid more rent. After the road was complete at the end of the summer, Mamma had enough money to buy the dishes and ice tea glasses. After she collected the money she bought the china somewhere in Columbia. There was a traveling sales event that came 3-4 times per year. This was hard work to board the men because it included washing dishes and clothes and they didn’t have washing machines back then so she was proud. I asked her if she was afraid to sleep on the porch or if here parents were at all concerned to let five strange men in the house. Her response was “it was the 30s, we weren’t afraid then”.

Bits from Me:

How wonderful for a girl like me, from a generation of disposable and abundance, to learn about sacrifice. I am amazed that she was able to convince her family to help her in order to reach her goal! I think she must have been a saleswoman at heart. But the story goes deeper than just sacrifice and determination. It provides a glimpse into culture, my culture, where my people came from. My family didn’t have money but my Great Grandmother placed value in people. Having people over to dinner and cooking a nice hot meal was a priority to her. Service was a priority and the elegant china added that little touch ensuring the guest feels welcomed and wanted. I think the art of entertaining started long ago in my family’s history, maybe even before her. 

Another interesting part of the story is my Mom’s role in this “handing down of family heirlooms”. My Mom actually registered me for all the necessary pieces in order to complete the set on www.replacements.com for my wedding. Surprisingly, I didn’t resist this notion (a little self confession here, yes I liked to rebel against approximately 80% of my Mom’s ideas back then). Thank goodness my sentimental side took over and hinted that some day I might care about this stuff. You can imagine, it was most of my Southern blood kin that generously purchased these remaining items as gifts for us. The china pattern is called Syracuse from Stansbury and was made in America. The website is great because you can buy items from retired patterns. I think the actual warehouse has like 500,000 square feet of tableware! I wonder what Bessy and Thomas would have thought about receiving china and crystal as wedding presents?!

There are so many graces and virtues that are being tossed to the side by modern day ways. People laugh and make jokes about never using their formal serving ware. We are all so busy it seems to be a burden to take on any more work, like hand washing dishes. On the flip side, has anyone every pulled out all the stops for you?  How did it make you feel?  Do you remember the occasion? 

For me, realistically, I am going to start small. I don’t entertain much because I’m afraid my cooking stinks and I am not quite sure how I would pull it off with the kids and the dog and the dog hair...everywhere! I am going to use my china for some Christmas cookies and coffee. This way I can make an ordinary gathering with a friend feel a little more important. What’s the occasion she might ask? I’ll respond by saying YOU! Or maybe there is a special occasion and the numbers are small or it isn’t a full meal. Maybe then I’ll be a little less intimated to use those fancy plates. So instead of going out and searching for new plates, new serving dishes, or the next best coffee mug, open your cupboards and pull out those dusty wedding presents (oh and please do this with plenty of time as I have forgot this step before and was left with moving stickers on all the bread plates)! Let me know how it goes!

Momma with her seven sisters and one brother (I really do come from a family of all women).
Momma's the short one sitting in front of her brother.