Overheard, out and about, Mrs. Grundy sees all, tells all

Staff

Published Saturday, October 11, 2008

Peeping through my Venetian blind, I noticed my Confederate rose in bloom. Some call it the “cotton rose” because, like cotton, the blooms turn red, pink, and white.

Speaking of cotton, Alabama is called “the Cotton State.” As Miss Cora Covington and I have been riding around this week, we have seen fields upon fields of cotton, white unto harvest, beautiful sights, along with the fields of goldenrod, the adjuratum, yellow aster, spider lilies, and abelia. The goldenrod, by the way, was once the state flower.

Miss Dora Covington was quoting Helen Hunt Jackson’s “October’s Bright Blue Weather” just the other day. Miss Ellen Barrow, one-time English instructor at the Andalusia High School, introduced me to that poem when I was a young teacher. I always read it to my students each October as a thought for the day.

In driving about, Miss Cora and I noticed the big A made out of potted mums, red and white, on the lawn of City Hall (old East Three-Notch School). I presume that’s in honor of homecoming at A.H.S. this weekend. We also admired the beautiful, fall arrangement of the old wagon, potted mums, and pumpkins on the Golden Square.

A.H.S. classes ending in nine are being honored this weekend. Dining at Off the Square Cafe I ran into a member of the Class of l949, Melnee (Dortch) Turnipseed and her husband J.T., here from Lindale, Texas, for Melnee’s sixtieth anniversary of graduation. Enjoying lunch with them was her sister, Hazel (Dortch) Williams, mother of Joann “the Pound-Cake Lady” Jones.

A member of the Class of l929, Myrtle Ruth (Everage) Welch, 97, a resident of Andalusia Manor, should be mentioned as probably the oldest living alumna of the classes being honored this year and, I think, the last of her class. It is her eightieth high-school anniversary.

The oldest known A.H.S. alumna is Margaret Capps, Class of l925, of California. She replaced Inez (Moye) Wilder, who passed away since last October, as the oldest, known living graduate.

Gentle reader, if you know of any A.H.S. alumni who may be older, please let me know.

I ate a few persimmons this week, given me by Miss Cora. Be sure they’re ripe or your mouth will turn inside out.

Seen at Off the Square Cafe were Judy Buck and her daughter, the lovely Kathy Nall, Dwight and Babs Mikel, Chase and LeAnne Cotton and their little Savannah, Dee Catrett, Marie Spann, Robert Williams, Dorrell Thomasson, Christine Stokes, and Jimmy Kirkland, who was enjoying some peach cobbler.

Marie Spann has just recorded her twelfth grandchild, all of whom, remarkably, have names beginning in j: Jody, Javin, Jordan, Janna, Justin, Johnna, Jamie, Julie, Jacob, Jeb, Jack, and Jake. Can you believe that!? I won’t even get into the in-laws!

At the Will Franklin and Mattie (Ross) Garner Reunion in Millbrook last weekend I found out that Paul Ray and Diann (Harris) Garner are kin to James and Mary Ann (Harris) Rabren here in “the Dimple of Dixie.” Diann is a niece to Mary Ann. Both named their sons Harris after their surname. Paul Ray Garner is my father’s first cousin.

The day before the reunion we buried my great-aunt, Mrs. Joe Bell Garner.

At the funeral for Weita Fay (Herring) Garner last Saturday at Coosa River in Elmore County, a group of eight of her granddaughters sang a special number in memory of their grandmother while a ninth granddaughter accompanied them at a piano. That is a musical family and a precious memory.

Hopewell Baptist Church was featured in the September 25 Alabama Baptist because of its l50th anniversary, celebrated August l7. Former pastors Edwin Patterson and Richard Collier joined current pastor, Barry Wilkinson, to remember and look to the future. Hopewell was founded in l858, joining the Bethlehem Baptist Association, which became the Zion Baptist Association and then the Covington Association.

Mr. Gried and Mr. Glutt are at it again, adding the sins of Wall Street to highway robbery (gasoline prices).

Jimmy Ponds, librarian at Straughn Elementary, president of the Covington Education Association, and president of District 24 (Conecuh, Covington, and Escambia counties) of the Alabama Education Association, presided at the District 24, monthly meetings September 8 and October 6 at Reid State Technical College in Evergreen. Also attending were Doris McDonald, vice-president of the C.E.A. and a science teacher at Fleeta; Ethel M. Robertson and Emma Locke of the Andalusia City Schools; Cathy Powell, president of the Andalusia Association of Educators; and Joe Wingard, district secretary and president of the Covington County Education Retirees Association. Supper for the September 8 meeting was provided by Mrs. Powell, Mrs. Robertson, and Mrs. Locke. Supper for October 6 was provided by Jacqueline Earthly of the Escambia County Teachers Association.

Clay Clyde Clump brought me a pumpkin to decorate my front porch. I couldn’t help thinking of James Whitcomb Riley’s old poem, “When the Frost Is on the Punkin.” He spelled pumpkin colloquially.

I ate at the Cracker Barrel in Greenville this week, driving back from Montgomery. Mrs. Gotrocks, Miss Purdie Birdie, and Miss Priscilla Primme met me there. After lunch we sat on the porch and rocked and talked.

At Wingard’s Stand I ran into Amy (Keenam) Mott and Jerri Stroud. I learned that Chris Stroud’s job has taken him to Australia for two months. He’s Jerri’s younger son.

Seen at Tabby D.’s were Charlie Brunson, Chris Caton, Jim Mallory, Gillis “the Combman” and Laura Ann Jones, Bob and Flora Roland, Martha Chisum, Martha Dixon, Joyce Sharpe, Neal and Jennifer “Good Neighbors” King, Dr. Morgan Moore, Clarence Trousdale, Opal Radford, Robert Linder, Joyce Cook, Benny Barrow, Mary Ann Donaldson, Mike and Janet Beste, Mary Ann Lewis, Myra Maddox, Merle Griffin, Wanda Davis and her son Derick, Dwight and Babs Mikel, and Vick Brannon, being treated for his 52nd birthday by his children, Erin and Lee. Charles and Jocelyn James from Wetumpka were also dining. Charles said that they love the food at Tabby D.’s so much that they drive all the way from Wetumpka to eat it!

I had a call from Billy Thweatt in North Augusta. He said that his dad, William Milburn Thweatt, Jr., turned 94 September l9 and is doing well in an assisted-living home, also in North Augusta, South Carolina. W. M. Thweatt was reared in the Methodist church here in Andalusia. Of his siblings only Joe is left; deceased are Mary Katherine, Robert, and little Dorothy.

The Covington Rifles, the local Camp l586 of the Sons of Confederate Veterans, met October 2 in the Dixon Memorial of the public library. Curtis Hampton Thomasson, commander, presided. Joe Wingard led in prayer and in “Dixie.” Thomasson led in the salutes to the flags and in announcements, which named two new members, Chip Adams and Larry Shaw. Jimmy Cobb showed a video of The Tragedy at Cold Harbor. Wingard reported his attendance at a symposium in Athens, Georgia, to study William Gilmore Simms, the greatest writer of the South before the War Between the States; his trip to Crawfordville, the plantation where Alexander Stephens, vice-president of the Confederacy, lived and is buried; his visit to Washington, Georgia, where Jefferson Davis and his cabinet met for the last time and dissolved the Confederate government; and his journey to Natchez where he stayed in the Briars, the l8l8 home where Jefferson Davis and Varina Howell were married. While in Natchez he attended a memorial service for Pat Shehan, once a member of the Covington Rifles, the brother of S. Daniel Shehan. Camp dues are payable to Jimmy Cobb by the end of October. Also attending were Derick Davis, Roger Broxton, Tony Fendley, Vaughn Bowers, and Fletcher Jones, accompanied by his lovely wife Jean, a member of the Daughters of the American Revolution.

Don’t forget the Chautauqua in DeFuniak Springs January 29 – February l.

The Portly Gentleman related more of his trip to Georgia to the Covington girls and me at tea this week.

“After the symposium for William Gilmore Simms ended in Athens, Cousin Jo Driggers and I decided we’d explore this area of Georgia before heading home.

“We headed up a rural road to Washington, Georgia, a neat, clean town with not a sign of litter in sight, and were there in an hour or so. It was a lovely Sunday, and we were dressed in our best for church.

“Washington was the first city in America chartered under the name of our founding president. It is filled with stately, white, columned, ante-bellum houses. The town square (Wilkes County) has a Dutch-style courthouse, standing behind the site where the Heard House stood. The Heard House, gone, I am sad to say, was where Jefferson Davis, only president of the Confederacy, met with his cabinet for the last time and dissolved the Confederate States of America. Davis performed his last duties as president in Washington. I was particularly eager to visit Washington because of the connections with Davis, whose bicentennial of birth is being celebrated this year.

“Jo and I took rooms at the Fitzpatrick Hotel on the square, a large, brick, bay-windowed, Victorian holdover, impeccably preserved. My room had four windows in its bay, overlooking the town square, some stained glass, antique furniture, two closets, a claw-footed tub, and ceiling fan.

“Being early for church, we rode around, seeing the Gilbert-Alexander House, the grand Campbell House with its swags of trained ivy and its columns, standing about like the gods of Olympus, the Willis Library with its Tiffany window, and the quaint Presbyterian Church, where we worshipped.

“The congregation was small and elderly, and I felt right at home. A pipe organ supplied the music as we enjoyed a short, traditional, moving service, led by the supply minister from Milledgeville, Glen Kohlhagen, a classmate at Columbia in Atlanta with Jerry Long, minister at First Presbyterian Church, Andalusia, who recently left us for Valdosta, Georgia. Kohlhagen asked me to give his regards to Long; later, he wrote letters to both Jo and me, saying he was glad to have had us visit.

“I especially enjoyed the verbal call to worship, the call to confession, and the prayer of confession in the Presbyterian Church, and singing the traditional songs, ‘Hear Our Prayer, O Lord,’ ‘Gloria Patri,’ and the ‘Doxology.’

“I learned that Alexander Stephens, vice-president of the Confederacy, had been a life-long member of this church and that Woodrow Wilson had worshipped here when his father, a Presbyterian minister, had supplied the pulpit.

“Miss Jo’s fine alto and my presentable baritone blended as we sang ‘Immortal, Invisible, God, Only Wise.’

“The Presbyterian Church in Washington was built around l825 and remains much the same. A door on one side was built for women to enter; a door on the other side, for men. An early pastor, Alexander Hamilton Webster, was buried outside between the doors. When a front room (vestibule) was added, the gravestone of Webster was raised and serves – now inside – as a table between the doors. This Webster made such a profound impression on the young Alexander Stephens, later vice-president of the CSA, that Stephens, who had no middle name, took the name of Hamilton from Webster and made it his own.

“After services Jo and I ate the Sunday brunch in the beautifully preserved dining room of the Fitzpatrick Hotel, reminiscent of the l920’s, l930’s, and l940’s. The old-fashioned elegance and quiet dignity reminded me of Sundays at Grace Larson’s Gables here in Andalusia. The buffet included baked turkey, dressing, cranberry sauce, creamed corn, greenbean casserole, rolls, tea, fried squash, catfish, fresh fruit, eggs Benedict, strawberry cake, and apple cobbler; and that’s just what I ate, not counting all the rest.

“ After brunch Jo and I visited the Washington Historical Museum, housed in an ante-bellum home. Here we saw the camp trunk of Jefferson Davis and much more, three floors of artifacts, pictures, Indian memorabilia, and Confederate memorabilia.

“I had been to Crawfordville twice already; both times the Stephens plantation house had been closed. Jo, who studies out everything beforehand, assured me that the house would be open on Sunday afternoon; so we headed for Crawfordville, only a short drive away. Crawfordville is a large village with a fine, Victorian courthouse, representing Taliaferro (pronounced ‘tolliver’) County. Margie Edwards, a polite, sweet-mannered, gracious lady, who works for the A.H. Stephens State Historic Park, gave Jo and me a fine tour, first of the museum and gift shop filled with Confederate memorabilia and then, the plantation home of Stephens and the following: a spacious yard with shade trees, a large statue of Stephens next to his grave and the grave of his youngest brother on the front lawn, a Baptist church and graveyard next door, wash house, slave cabins, covered well, modern restrooms, a gas house (Stephens actually made his own gas for his home), and graves of pet dogs.

“The main house was wooden, two-story with a one-story, wide, front porch, four rooms upstairs, four rooms downstairs, back breezeway connected to a double room (library and bedroom), and a side kitchen attached by a little porch. Among the unusual features were a rug under the dining table to catch crumbs, painted window shades, a dry commode, which used dirt instead of water, and a library ladder that folded into a single rod.

“We were told that Stephens was a bachelor, that he never weighed over 99 pounds, that he was small, a good speaker, crippled late in life, sickly all his life, and yet he outlived all of his family.

“Jo and I drove through the recreational area next to the historical area and saw cabins, lakes, picnic areas, a lodge, homes of the caretakers, a CCC observation/water tower, swimming area, fishing area, trailer camping, hills, and woods, all very attractive.

“Back in Washington for the night, we saw a new home being built just off the square. It was a scaled-down version of Beauvoir, the Biloxi home of Jefferson Davis where he lived out his life, the house that Hurricane Katrina almost destroyed, which was rebuilt and rededicated June 3 in honor of Davis’s Bicentennial. How appropriate, I thought, that this new Beauvoir should be built during the bicentennial.

“Jo and I took supper at the Huddle House and then retired for the night at the Fitzpatrick. I took a hot soak in the claw-footed tub and didn’t slosh out too much water. I put in some calls to my Dad, to Curtis Thomasson, and to his Aunt Bernice Holley, who warned me that gasoline was scarce because of the hurricane and that I might have trouble getting back to Andalusia. Because of that warning, I kept filling up my tank at every opportunity. Indeed, I found plastic bags over many empty gas pumps and purchasing limits at others.

“I learned later, to my sorrow, that Betty Greene’s daughter, Priscilla Moore, had lived in Washington for years and that Jo and I could have looked her up and visited. I’ll always regret that I missed that opportunity. Betty, by the way, has been to Washington, Georgia, many times. She convalesced there after her recent illness.”

That ends the Portly tales for the moment.

Sunday is Columbus Day: “Columbus sailed the blue in l492!”

October l5 is the birth date of Virgil, for years considered the greatest writer in the world – till Shakespeare came along; the birth date of Helen Hunt Jackson (mentioned above); and Poetry Day.

October l6 is the birth date of Noah Webster, whose dictionary still holds a high reputation, not to be confused with Daniel Webster, the statesman.

Now, gentle reader, allow me to close my Venetian blind for the time.