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From: Eve
Email: msgulfshore@cs.com
Remote Name: 24.116.87.108
Date: 23-Oct-2002
Time: 09:09 AM
I thought you might enjoy this story. It touched my heart and although it is a little long, it is well worth reading.
Mary Bea's Story
This is the story of a special friend I had during my childhood days. Her name was Mary Bea. She was a very plain woman and had the sweetness of an angel on her face. She had such a special warmth in her heart and humility in her eyes that I couldn’t help but love her. She lived with her husband and son in a little shack about a mile down the road from us. A shack it was, it only had two rooms, one was large enough for only a bed. The other held the bare necessities of a kitchen. The only appliances were a refrigerator, a hot plate, and a stove that didn’t work. There was a small table, a few straight back chairs, and an old torn couch, which also served as a bed. Two light bulbs dropped from cords nailed to the ceiling provided the meager lighting for the house. They had no running water, only water drawn from a spring in the woods behind their house. The ceiling, floor, and walls were all wood, making the interior very dark. The front and back doors were made of boards nailed together, and the house only had two windows with no screens. In the winter they would heat the house with an old pot belly heater. I am sure it kept the house toasty warm, as small as it was. I remember when Mary Bea swept the floor that she would just sweep the dirt out the back door. The house was just off the main graveled road down in a little hollow. No grass grew in the yard -- it was just hard packed down dirt. I guess it stayed packed down from all the hound dogs laying around and chickens running all over the place, including inside the house at times.
The natural spring in the woods behind their house supplied them with their drinking water and wash water. There was a well worn trail that led to it. I remember one day walking down that trail to see where it went and coming upon the spring. The woods encircling the spring was cleared out and very serene, and it was just a pleasant feeling being there. I noticed some wash tubs and old rags and it took awhile for me to realize that this was her outdoor laundry area. On a little farther down the trail I came upon another area strewn with pages from the Sears & Roebuck catalog. It didn’t take me long at all to realize what this one was!
Her husband, Jim, was a bob-tail logger, and was very rough and dirty looking. He didn’t work regularly although he did seem to be a hard worker. When he did work he spent most of his earnings on whiskey and all night gambling rendezvous. He did bring home a few groceries now and then, mostly canned goods such as pork-n-beans, vienna sausage, crackers, bread, milk and coffee. I don’t ever remember seeing any other kinds of food there when I visited, and nothing was ever offered to me. Mamma said they ate out of a brown paper bag most of the time -- straight from the store where Jim hung out with the local fellows to catch up on all the news. Daddy would sometimes hang out there too and I would go with him. I always enjoyed being around Jim. He would always pick at me and that made me know that he liked me. He and daddy were very good friends, although I can never remember a time that our entire families would pay a visit to each other. My sister, Becky, and I would go with daddy to visit Jim and the hound dogs! We would wallow with the dogs ‘til we smelled just like dogs ourselves by the time we left! Daddy and Jim coon hunted together as much as they could. A lot of nights their dogs wouldn’t come in after the hunt and they would have to go back to that area the next day to look for them. Sometimes Becky and I would go along just for the ride. We would always get to ride in the back of the truck, and when we found the dogs we would have company on the way back home! There were times that daddy would lend Jim money, and mamma would say he would never see it again, but he always paid it back. He was always a good friend to my daddy, and though he wasn’t a neighborly man, he always helped him in any way he could. Because of this we always thought of him as a good man. It hurt him deeply when daddy passed on because he was probably his closest friend.
They had a son, Jimmy Lee, and Mary Bea was very protective of him. She would always get very upset when he was out of her sight. She would get upset when his daddy would take him somewhere with him, especially coon hunting. I never really knew why she would get so upset, but sometimes she would start crying and just go to pieces. I’m sure she felt like he was all she had, and she didn’t want anyone taking him away from her. Jimmy Lee lived a very sheltered life and was always sort of backward and shy. He almost acted as if he was afraid to be around people. As far as I could tell, he loved his mother very much and always treated her with respect.
There wasn’t much in the way of entertainment for kids during those days, so we would wander the roads and woods and visit friends and neighbors. Our land joined theirs, so I would walk through the woods or ride my bike to see Mary Bea quite often and we would sit outside and talk. I don’t remember what we talked about but I must have enjoyed it or I wouldn’t have gone back so regularly. I probably visited her more than anyone else in the neighborhood! In the summer she spent most of her time outside, just trying to stay cool. She didn’t really have anything to do to pass the time, other than washing what few clothes they had. I don’t know if she could read or not -- I don’t remember ever seeing any books at their house. She didn’t have a vegetable garden, or any flowers to enjoy working with. The surroundings outside the house were just as dull as on the inside.
She was a rather large built woman and kept herself as clean as she could under the circumstances. They bathed outside in an old wash tub at the back of their house with water from their spring. When winter came around and it was too cold to bathe outside, it was moved inside to the middle of the kitchen floor. Mary Bea always wore loose fitting worn out cotton dresses with nothing underneath, and always went barefoot. I doubt that she even owned any underwear, though I’m sure she must have had some shoes. At first glance, anyone would probably have thought she looked like a wild woman. Her hair was always clean but extremely bushy. I don’t know what she washed it in, probably only soap or possibly some kind of household detergent. She probably didn’t brush it regularly either. I was only around 12 years old, but I would keep it cut for her. Sometimes when I would be visiting her she would say, “I sure wish you would cut my hair," and I would run home and get mamma’s scissors, a mirror, and a towel to wrap around her shoulders and start cutting away. It always did look a lot better when I was through, although it was still uncontrollable. She would look in the mirror and say how much better it looked and felt, and just brag and brag on what a good job I had done. That always made me swell with pride and I don’t think I’ll ever forget that feeling as long as I live. Knowing that I had done something to make her feel good just made me feel good all over!
In our neighborhood everyone knew everything there was to know about everyone else! We all visited each other back and forth and helped each other out anytime the need arose. I can’t remember anyone in the community having anything to do with Mary Bea. As best I remember her husband didn’t want them to. Our church always wanted to do something for them at Christmas, but he wouldn’t allow her to take charity from anyone. She had been in a mental institution for her nerves several times and he had always treated her as if she was crazy, as did a lot of other folks. We had heard that in years past she had a baby that died and that must have hurt her deeply. My mamma and daddy never treated her like she was crazy at all. They just knew that she was uneducated and ignorant in ways that she had no control over, and did their best to treat her just like any other friends they had. I was never afraid of being around her by myself, and mamma and daddy never worried about me going there. It was too bad that grown ups didn’t see her inner beauty as I did.
I’m sure she confided in mamma about her personal feelings because sometimes when we visited her she would whisper things to mamma and start crying, but mamma never shared any of it with us. Sharing personal thoughts and feelings wasn’t something folks did much of back in those days. Mamma always helped Mary Bea every way she could. I guess she felt sorry for her. I remember each fall before school started back mamma would take her shopping to buy school clothes for Jimmy Lee. She was very unlearned in the ways of shopping and being out in public places, so mamma always tried to show her what to do. Mary Bea would take a fruit jar full of change, wrapped in a brown paper bag, to pay for the clothes. I’m ashamed to say now but I remember being a little embarrassed when going with them. I’m sure we received lots of stares from the town folk who probably thought they were just a little bit better than us, but that never bothered my mamma.
In those days there was a saying when folks went to bed early that they “went to bed with the chickens," so we rarely saw any light from that house after dark. I know the days and the nights must have been long and lonely for Mary Bea. Her spirit had to have been broken because of the life she lived. She didn’t deserve to have to live that way, but she knew of no other way. As the years passed, I guess I sorta outgrew my special friend. Gradually I slacked off on the visits because I thought had more important things to do. Mary Bea has now gone on, and as I think back to those days, I realize that she must have always had a tiny glimmer of hope within or she would have never been able to survive those circumstances. There are so many things that I never knew about her and that I never even wondered about until now. I just hope that I did help to put a little light into her soul somewhere along the way.
Kathy S. Norris 9/9/99
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