Music and memories...

When I was growing up, my older sisters (11, 15 and 18 years older) were playing the music of the fifties. I grew up listening to the sounds featured on the first youtube video below. My sisters were wonderful dancers. By the time I was ten and Sharon was eight, we could dance. I don't know...maybe we had watched my sisters enough. I don't remember that part. Neither Mama nor Daddy ever owned up to where (from which one of them) we all got the rhythm we had, but we could dance.

On the weekends, my sisters would occasionally go dancing. They would get all dressed up in the wonderful 1950's fashions with high heels and go dancing with their boyfriend/husband/fiance. Sharon and I were, of course, much too young, so we'd get in the hallway of the house on Victor Drive with the polished hardwood floors, turn the music up and "bop" (the swing music or boogie-woogie today). I don't remember Mama ever complaining that the music was too loud or that we were under foot. Most of the time, she and Daddy would be laughing at us. Eventually, we would get tired.

I was listening to some great fifties music this afternoon. Those mellow sounds of the wonderful saxophone of Ace Cannon were coming across the built-in speakers all throughout the house. I was dancing to Alley Cat as I cooked supper. I couldn't help it. The memories were tumbling in and I was a very young teenager again...dancing in the hallway of a little house in Memphis.

Of course, the music of the sixties brings back a whole new "set" of memories: high school, college, falling in love, being a young newlywed and, later, having two small children fifteen and a half months apart. Amazing, isn't it...?



*Remember to scroll down and pause the blog playlist music before you listen to the videos.

This is a neat youtube video with snippets of all the top songs of the fifties.

If you remember this time, you'll enjoy it.

If you don't remember it, you should enjoy it anyway!

These dancers are doing "the swing" but it looks a whole lot like "bop" to me!

After all these years, this is still fun...wonder if I could get my non-dancing husband to take "swing" lessons?!

All those questions...

I was born when my parents were forty-one years old...the last of four daughters. Daddy was the youngest of seven children, born when his parents were older. I never knew my Daddy's parents. They both died before I was born. My mother's parents died when I was very young, so I really never knew them.

I was almost twenty-one when I married. Life was busy as we had children and our family grew. Searching my family's history was the last thing on my mind at that time. I was simply busy with life. By the time my sister Dot and I seriously began researching our family history, our mother had suffered a stroke and lost her speech. Not long after that, Daddy passed away. Since Dot was the oldest, she remembered a lot...still, there were answers she just didn't have.

Now, I want to know more. I want to find answers for all those questions I have. I wish there were more photographs...

In the circa 1911 photograph below, Daddy appears to have been about five or six years old, maybe? It appears he was holding something under his right arm. I wish I knew what it was. My firstborn grandchild has the same coloring as the great-grandfather he never met...the same dark brown eyes, dark brown hair and beautiful olive complexion (no other grandparent or great-grandparent has the olive skin).

My firstborn grandchild and me...

Just a few of the questions I would ask now if only I could...

How tall were your parents?

What color were their hair and eyes?

What were your grandparents like? Were they musical...artistic?

What was Mary Frances Cooper's father's name?! Mary Frances Cooper was my mother's grandmother. Mama would have known the answer, if I had only known to ask the question!

Did your parents or great grandparents ever talk about Scotland or Ireland?

So far away...

As I've mentioned in earlier posts, I'm the youngest of four daughters. We lost my oldest sister to Acute Myloid Leukemia almost five years ago. While I do I love living on a mountain in Oregon, there are times when I realize that I'm so far away...too far away. I just heard this morning that my sister Gerry is on her way to an emergent surgery in Tennessee...and I'm in Oregon. That breaks my heart that I'm not there for her right now. I'm the RN in the family and should be there with her. There are phones and email, but it's just not the same.

So, for now, I'll just pray. That's the very best thing I can do for my big sister right now...

(The photo above was taken many years ago, in our annual sisters' "lineup" pose. I was fifteen in the picture.)

Update: The surgery went well and the outcome was good news. Thank God!

Happy Birthday, Daddy...

As I remember Daddy's birthday today, I thought it might be a good time to share a few pages or memories from the family history book which my sister Dot and I were working on before we lost her to leukemia. I want to finish this book. I really do...because that's exactly what she would have wanted. If you've been reading this blog all along, then you know my Dad's whole world was my Mama and my sisters and me, and later the grandchildren too. He loved his family. He was a gentle, kind, loving person. In my entire growing-up years, I never saw him lose his temper or raise his voice. I never heard a curse word. Amazing, isn't it. I'm thankful that my parents were my parents. Happy Birthday, Daddy. I miss you.

an excerpt from the family history...

Daddy’s heritage lies deep within the gently rolling hill country of Mississippi, a fertile land with tall, green pines and abundant hardwoods. As we began the search for our family history, my sisters and I, once again, traveled down those winding country roads. We were struck with the quiet beauty of it all.

We found the little Piney Grove Baptist Church where our ancestors had worshiped, nestled in a sun-dappled clearing beneath the tall pines, and it would have been easy to believe we were standing in Cades Cove in the Great Smokey Mountains. Miles of farmland or forest stretched between homes as the wind whistled through the multitude of trees. It seemed time had stood still.

Although the site of the “old homestead” stands empty now, it was easy to imagine what life must have been like back then. Home for the Willis Nelson McGregor family was a large “dog-trot” style house which was built in the tradition of their Scottish ancestors who had migrated to Pontotoc from North Carolina and Tennessee. Situated on fertile farmland in the Springville community, their home was located just down the road from other members of the close knit McGregor family.

The youngest of seven children, Homer Stanley McGregor was born February 17, 1905 in Pontotoc County, Mississippi, to Willis Nelson McGregor and his wife Martha Sarah “Mattie” (Carpenter) McGregor. His brothers and sisters included Robert, Pearl, Quella, Lester, Daisy and Mazie. With two older brothers and four older sisters, Homer McGregor grew up in a home filled with the voices of family, laughter and music. With family roots deeply established, the McGregor children enjoyed the benefits of growing up in a community surrounded by a large number of McGregor and Carpenter (maternal) family members – including grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins.

Highly respected for their strong family values and religious strengths, the McGregor family was well established early in Pontotoc’s history. Descendants of a Baptist preacher from Scotland, the generations that followed produced many other Baptist preachers and church leaders. Most of them were farmers and they all loved the land. There were often hardships that came with depending on the soil for their livelihood but they loved the challenges and rewards that came with each season.

My sister Dot penned these beautifully written memories of those growing-up years in Mississippi.

Sharing Memories. . .
by Dorothy McGregor Kemp

I will always remember Mama and Daddy as very hard-working and law-abiding people. Their family was the most important thing to them; and, in fact, the family was their whole life as they grew older.

Daddy had to work very hard as he had to support his family during some of the depression days, and things didn’t get much better for a long time after the depression; however, I remember that we had as much as most all of my friends and neighbors had back then. Daddy did his best to provide for our needs. Daddy had a lot of pride buying that little farm (in Rena Lara), and he graduated from plowing mules to a tractor which was much faster and easier. Daddy was so proud of that John Deere tractor. (I can just see him out in the fields now). Gerry and I, (Eunice wasn’t old enough) had to pick and chop cotton, but Daddy didn’t ask us to work as hard as some of the kids did, and Mama did not have to help in the fields like some of the wives did either. She took care of the house work, canning and sewing.

Mama always would have a huge and delicious dinner (not lunch) cooked for us at noon when we came home from the fields. The table would be full of several fresh vegetables, a meat (or maybe two), and always a dessert or cobbler, pie or cake, and everything was made from scratch. (She didn’t know what a cake mix was back then nor did she know what a “store bought” pie crust was. (It makes my mouth water to think about all the good food!) I can still visualize that table - actually, we had two; one long one in the kitchen and one on the screened-in back porch, where we ate often in the Summertime. And we had a long bench on one side of the table where we children sat.

Some of my best memories too, especially of Mama, would be the great tea cakes she would have baked for us when we got home from school - sometimes they were plain tea cakes and sometimes they would have chocolate icing (made from scratch) between them, and in the Fall and Winter months we always had baked sweet potatoes waiting for us in the oven. We had a wood stove, so the oven would stay warm for hours, thus the potatoes were too. (This was a snack for us - can you imagine children eating that now for a snack!)

Mama, as we all know, was a great seamstress. She made just about all of our clothes, except for the things that we ordered out of the Sears Roebuck Catalog. I will always remember that every Fall I usually would order a navy and a red cardigan sweater, and Mama would make me some skirts (always a plaid); and she also made us pretty dresses. (She was a perfectionist so they always looked great). We also ordered our shoes, and a coat occasionally, from the catalog. (Dear Old Sears - it’s too bad they don’t still have catalog mail ordering) but I still have my memories. Yes, Mama was proud of her daughters and she wanted us to look nice, so she did the best with the financial means she had.

We didn’t have much entertainment back in the 1930's and 40's, except for radio (and for a long time that was battery operated). But, I can still see Mama and Daddy listening to “Amos & Andy” while we ate supper every night which was (as I still remember) 6:30; and on Saturday nights we listened too the Grand Old Opry. On Sunday or Monday nights we listened to Lux Theatre. (Oh, if only the children now could use their imagination as we had to). Our other entertainment was “going to town” (Clarksdale) on Saturdays, especially in the Fall, after having picked cotton all week. Daddy would give each of us maybe a couple of dollars or less - which would probably equal to ten now - and we would go to the movie and also get a bag of popcorn, and usually after the movie, we would go to the ice cream parlor which really was a treat, as we only got ice cream when we made it in a hand-cranked freezer. (You see, for several years there we did not have electricity and had to keep our food cold in an ice box!) The ice man brought us say 100 pounds of ice that kept it cool, and we chipped off that for ice tea. (I can’t remember if the ice man came one or twice a week, but occasionally he didn’t make it and we were very disappointed). I remember that always around the 4th of July, for Mama’s birthday, we got extra ice to make lots of ice cream and our neighbors (the Hokes) would make some too. Oh, it took so little to make us happy then. Another exciting form of entertainment that we had were the traveling “tent shows” that came annually to Rena Lara and people within miles went to see that. Daddy always looked forward to going to those shows and taking Mama and us.

Daddy and Mama decided after living on the farm for several years to move to Clarksdale and then to Memphis where Daddy worked for General Electric until he retired. Then, I guess he wanted to move where the pace of life was slow, which would be the country or small rural area, so decided to make his final move to Grenada, Mississippi.

Mama and Daddy were kind people, and Daddy always had patience. Most of the time Mama had patience too, but sometimes her Irish got the best of her. I loved them both dearly and miss them so much! They were great people!”

Note: If you'd like to try my Mama's wonderful teacakes, you'll find the recipe here. Enjoy!

Sweet child of mine...

Our youngest child arrived ten years after his sister...a precious baby boy with strawberry blonde hair and beautiful green eyes. From day one, it seemed he was carried around in someone's arms or had someone to entertain him...or someone he entertained. He never met a stranger. When he started talking, it was in paragraphs. He could carry on a conversation with anyone at an early age and still can. I understood his place in the birth order. I had been there myself...the youngest child with a large space between. It isn't an easy place but he achieved it. That and so much more...quite well. I can't believe he's twenty-nine now...

The Christmas Skates...

Christmas was always a wonderful time on Victor Drive. Not because there were elaborate gifts or fancy decorations, because there were neither of those, but because we were all together.

There wasn't a lot of money, and so I knew better than to ask for anything expensive. It was simply out of the question. Roller shoe skates were definitely more expensive than my parents could afford, but that didn't keep me from hoping. I must have been about fourteen years old the Christmas I finally did a little more than hope and actually asked for shoe skates for Christmas.

Every Friday night, my friends and I went roller skating at the large indoor rink on Summer Avenue in Memphis, Tennessee. I loved to skate. I loved to feel the breeze in my hair as I went around and around the rink as fast as I could. It felt like I was flying. I loved to skate to the music...it almost felt like dancing on skates. I had learned to skate backwards and thought that was the ultimate accomplishment at that age.

My children will tell you that I'm terrible at keeping secrets at Christmas. I want you to have what I bought you right now. I'M the one who can't wait. So, about two weeks before Christmas 1959, I started snooping. The house wasn't that large so where could they be? I finally found the roller skates under Mama and Daddy's bed. I breathed a sigh of relief. They were actually there...I was getting roller skates for Christmas!

Christmas eve came and we all opened our gifts. No roller skates. Christmas morning came and no roller skates under the tree. I really can't remember what else I got that Christmas. Christmas afternoon came and no roller skates. The way it all evolved is locked deep within the recesses of my memory...but the bottom line is Mama simply forgot. She forgot she had hidden my roller skates!

I wish I could remember if I confessed or if she simply remembered on her own, but by Christmas evening, I was the proud owner of a pair of pristine white shoe skates. I'd like to tell you that I've gotten better at keeping Christmas secrets, but...well, just ask my kids.

Blessings...

Thanksgiving has come and gone. Today is the first day of December...my birthday. I love this time of year, Thanksgiving and Christmas, but I must confess...it makes me homesick. The memories come flooding in and I don't stop them.

I see Sharon and me as children making turkeys out of potatoes, construction paper and toothpicks. That was our contribution to the Thanksgiving table. I see my sisters and their families...all of us gathered around the table in the dining room on Victor Drive. Everyone is talking and laughing at once...I can hear it still.

I remember all the years - thirty-nine - that Bill and I shared the same birthday. I'm finally able to make it, for the most part, through my birthday now without tears...for I know in Heaven there are no tears.

Years pass...many years. My life is not what or where I imagined it would have been all those years ago, but I've learned that God is faithful. Through the disappointment, pain and grief, he has taught me that He is in control and is working all things out for my good and His glory.

Now, as I sit here at my desk and look out the window, I see the foothills of the Cascades across the valley and a ribbon of the Umpqua River below. It is the rainy season and a slow mist is falling. My Christmas list is on the desk in front of me, and I remind myself that there are presents to buy and packages to mail.

For now, though, I'm deep in thought. I'm thankful...truly thankful...for the blessings my Heavenly Father has given me. Three healthy, successful adult children. Each with God-given gifts and talents. Each uniquely different, and yet, in many ways, like both their father and me. I'm thankful for their wonderful spouses...each of which is very much my own child instead of an "in-law".

I'm thankful for the unbelievable JOY of grandchildren. I love each and every single one of them with all my heart. Each one is perfect...special...unique. I see "bits and pieces" of my children in them and it brings back memories of their childhoods. Three of my grandchildren are unexpected blessings: my beautiful dark-eyed adopted Peruvian granddaughter...a precious adopted Ethiopian baby boy, my grandson, whom I will meet for the first time on December 19th...and Mason, a beautiful blue-eyed baby boy, who technically is my husband's first grandchild...but very much my grandson too.

Had you told me years ago that Bill and I were not to grow old together, I would not have believed you. Had you told me years ago, that one day I would be living on a mountain in Oregon...I would not have believed you. Life is short. Life is precious. Why don't we know the things we know at this age when we're young and we need to know them? I don't have the answer either.

My life is different now. Now, I take one day at the time. That's all I ever had anyway. Now, I rejoice in the small things and try not to worry about the big things. I'm thankful for my macho logger tree farmer...my polar opposite. He has had his share of loss and grief as well. Given the best of odds, we know that we'll be two very old people if we're married as long as we were to our first spouses. So, for now, we find joy living on a mountaintop tree farm, which we evidently share with the bears, cougars, bobcats and lots of deer...

Note: The photo above was taken Christmas 1968 when our firstborn was four months old.