25 February 2021
Socrates is famous for saying “the unexamined life is not worth living” in response to a choice of exile or death. On the other hand, I think lives need to be examined in order to live to the fullest. With that in mind, I’ve decided to re-examine my life so far. Where to begin?
The first thing I ever remember is sitting on a concrete stoop in front of our house in Meridian, Mississippi watching my Dad mow the lawn. As he finished, he walked up to me and shook his head and sweat fell onto the concrete in front of me wetting the concrete. I looked up at him and said “Rain!” I was around two years old and didn’t have much speech. Or at least that’s how I remember it. Much, much later, I related this memory to my parents and they said there was no way I could remember that far back, but it is burned into my memory like a brand on a calf which my father often reminded me he had to sell to pay for my escape from the hospital. Mother often reminded me she carried me for 9 months and was in labor for 11 hours with me. I know that for a fact since both bits of data are recorded on my birth certificate.
I was born at Saint Joseph’s Hospital in Meridian on November 1, 1948 at 1 p.m. weighing in at 7 lbs. 4 1/4 oz. The hospital has since moved from its original downtown site. However, I did get it see the old building later in life when my parents would drive me around Meridian pointing out landmarks familiar to them.
Meridian, at one time, was a booming city. Since the 2010 census, its dropped in population from 41,148 to 36,347. Today its considered the seventh largest city in Mississippi; however, until 1930 it was the largest city in the state.
It’s famous for a lot of reasons including the naval air station located there and also the home of Jimmie Rodgers, the singing brakeman. In a way, country music got its start in Meridian. Everyone has a favorite song by an artist and my favorite song by Rodgers is “It’s Peach Pickin’ Time in Georgia“. A close second is “He’s in the Jailhouse Now.”
Periodically on my trips out west, I’ll stop in Meridian and have lunch at Weidmann’s. For a while there, I would travel to Meridian more frequently than the capitol city of Jackson. My grandmother Ruby Agnew would load me up in the car after church on Sunday and drive over to Meridian from Morton, Mississippi over highway 80 – 60 miles east of Morton on a two lane road filled with semis. Ruby had this habit of driving like a bat out of hell for a few minutes and then slowing to a crawl. I imagine it drove the others behind her nuts.
Anyway, dining at Weidmann’s was an experience. Weidmann’s didn’t put pats of butter out on the table with the cracker. Instead, they put out crocks of homemade peanut butter.
It was also where I first experienced a prime rib. The chef, of course, cooked it medium rare. As a little kid, it was a little blood for me.
The pièce de résistance was their famous black bottom pie. Anything with bourbon and chocolate as an ingredients has to be good. This is a slice of paradise. I have their original recipe and on special occasions will make it for friends. Or, you can stop in Weidman’s and enjoy it yourself.
Sometimes we would go over on a Saturday and go to a movie and Ruby would shop. In a lot of ways, I always thought Meridian had classier stores than Jackson.
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Another set of memories were from Havre de Grace, Maryland and of the bucking space heater and snow. Dad was in the army and had been called up as a member of the ready reserve for Korea. He was stationed at Aberdeen Proving Grounds near Havre de Grace. We lived in a trailer and the only source of heat in the trailer was an oil fired heater. When lit, it would make these loud sounds like snorts as it warmed up and to me, seemed like it was moving across the floor, hence my bucking heater.
What I remember about Havre de Grace is snow. I think the year we were there was one of the heavier snowfalls for Maryland. I remember my brother and I running across what looked like a level snow covered field when we both plunged out of sight. We both had forgotten there was a drainage ditch near the trailer park and we fell through the snow to the bottom of the ditch.
Archie, my brother, tells the tale of me saving his eyesight in one eye. There was a junk yard near the trailer park and we knew we were not to go any where near it. That meant it was an open invitation to Archie. He was looking in the back of a car that the trunk top had been removed when he must has accidentally hit the latch. The metal connectors to the trunk top immediately popped up and one hit him in the eye. Blood was everywhere and he couldn’t see so I ran home. I really couldn’t talk at that point but when Mother saw me crying and Archie wasn’t with me, she asked where Archie was. I apparently led her back to Archie and off he went to the hospital. A few millimeters to the right and he would have lost his eye.
We were reared as Methodists and I remember Mother taking me to Sunday services in Havre de Grace. I apparently got excited during the hymns. I was learning to talk and apparently during “Holy! Holy! Holy!” I must have felt the spirit move me. I was standing on the pew with Mom holding on to me and I really got into the refrain. It seems after the hymn was over, I couldn’t let it go and continued with the refrain at the top of my lungs. Mom had to drag me out of the pew and out of the church.
My Grandmother on my mother’s side (Ruby Lee Agnew nee Tadlock) visited at least once in Havre de Grace. I remember her driving up from Morton, Mississippi and apparently taking me back with her for Christmas holidays. As we headed south, we apparently would stop to eat in restaurants along the way. In one stop, the restaurant had a display case for cigars, cigarettes, and other sundry items. It was there I spied a set of what I thought were wax teeth that kids used to get during halloween. I kept motioning to Ru that I wanted the teeth. With great difficulty, she finally got through to me that those were the false teeth of the owner of the restaurant. He apparently put them there when they got to bothering him when he worked the cash register.
Another time, Aunt Minrose and Uncle Ray (Dad’s brother) visited and drove me back to Morton to Ruby and Hollie’s. I must have driven them both crazy by asking over and over if the town lights we saw approaching was Morton. I apparently did that all the way from Havre de Grace. I think they were relieved when they finally handed me over to my Grandparents.
Ruby and Hollie lived in a two bedroom, one bath house that had an enclosed back porch, kitchen, dining room and living room. On the northeast side of the house was a screened in porch.
They later enclosed that porch and it was there they always put up a Christmas tree. That was my first exposure to bubble lights and I’ve had a fascination with them ever since.
These were the old lights that were wired in series. If one burned out, they all went out and you spent a lot of time testing to find out which bulb was burned out so you could get the string back up and lit. They are called bubble lights because the light bulb in the base heats up the methylene chloride liquid which causes bubbles in the glass tube.
Their house was also my first exposure to a floor furnace and an attic fan. The attic fan was huge and noisy but would definitely pull air from open windows into the house and create an updraft breeze during hot summer months.
The floor furnace was the main source of heat for the bedrooms. On extremely cold mornings, I would straddle the floor furnace (when I was tall enough) until my groin area became too toasty and then step away, only to reappear over the furnace after I cooled off. I knew to do that since my grandmother would do the same in her nightie. I later learned it’s not a good thing to do with blue jeans on because the metal zipper and the rivets would heat up and continue to burn after you dismounted from the furnace. I’ve always been partial to floor furnaces ever since. Strangely, most people I’ve run into have either never heard of them or were terribly afraid of them. Many recall accidentally stepping on the metal grate and burning themselves. I remember that too but was willing to take the chance to get warm. Just a warning. You can stand on the grate in leather soled shoes but once they heat up, you have a lingering hot foot.
Stay tuned for more and stay safe!
