Every time I hear someone quote the Bible verse Exodus 20:12, I am immediately reminded of my mother.
It says, “Honour thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the LORD thy God giveth thee.”
She lived to be just two months shy of 96 and her sister lived to for 100 years, seven months, and 22 days.
They must have been really good kids!
Anthropologists tell us that if we were to return in time 100 years, we’d not survive. 50 possibly, but 100, no way.
I can’t imagine what life was like in Goshen, VA in 1919 when my mother was born, and I have no idea what kind of parents she had other than to say she honored them all the time I knew her.
They must have been remarkable.
I know they had little money, a good-sized plot of land to farm, a slew of children, and a home that was two houses put together.
Their previous home had burned when mom was about 12; grandma insisted that every room have an outside door,
They did.
As a matter of fact, the dining room had two.
The house is gone now, the plot of land taken for a “new road.” The Commonwealth of Virginia decided it needed it far more than my Aunt Diddie did, and after a battle, paid her a paltry sum.
Grandma moved from the house in the early 1960s. Her TV went out, she walked down the road to Aunt Bertie’s house to “…watch her story…” and as mother said, “…it came a big snow storm, and she just stayed there.”
Grandma died in 1966 at the age of 89, and my memories of her are more certain as I was 14.
Grandpa died in 1953, I was about 15 months old, I did not attend the funeral – so I was told later – and all my “memories” of grandpa are second hand.
As in things folks told me.
Mother used to love to tell how that grandpa would hold me and say, “Maw, this baby’s got the prettiest head.”
Good thing, that, in retrospect!
The family, as I mentioned earlier this week was a blended one.
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Grandma married her first husband, Alfred Lee Smith sometime before the turn of the 20th century. He died at the age of 37. At that time, they had six living children and had buried two, a girl Annie and a son Charles.
Grandpa had been married previously as well. He had three kids, Rosie, Dolly, and Chalmer.
#Scandal!
His wife left him and the children in 1912 and “…ran off with another man…”
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I don’t know how grandpa and grandma got together. They were second cousins born in the same town, so I can only guess they were acquainted.
Grandpa was a good bit older having been born in Reconstruction Virginia in 1868. Grandma was born in 1877 after Virginia had been readmitted to the Union.
They were both from Kerrs Creek originally, and how they got to Goshen is a mystery to me. They lived in Longdale Furnace, VA prior to that.
Not a clue on that one either.
Now, those hamlets are not all that far apart, but in 1914 when they married, travel was a chore. Roads were pathetic, and to top it off, they didn’t have a car. As a matter of fact, they never did.
Grandpa farmed his land and worked as a night watchman for the railroad.
Grandma “kept house.”
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Well, and delivered babies. She was a licensed mid-wife, and a trip through the cemeteries and grave yards of Goshen show that several babies were named in her honor.
Folks did that then. Named the child for the man or woman who delivered the baby.
There are a few Cenies and Pheletters scattered around town.
Her name was Cenie Pheletter Nicely prior to marriage. She was the oldest daughter and one of eight children.
Grandpa was William Alexander Higgins. He had three siblings that I know of, Cora, Oakie, and Charlie. There may have been more, but no one’s ever brought them UP.
He was quiet, short, had a big burly mustache, and poured his coffee into a saucer to cool before he drank it.
From the saucer.
Clik here to view.

He liked his liquor too.
Grandma, being the Baptist of the family, curtailed the alcohol intake in the household.
Dad recalled taking grandpa to the doctor. As grandpa was “deaf as a post” the doctor’s summation about grandpa’s condition was directed to Dad.
During said re-cap, the doctor said that “Mr. Higgins can have a little shot of whiskey once in a while for his heart.” Dad thanked the doctor and the boys headed home.
Along the way, grandpa said, “…didn’t that doctor say I could have some whiskey?” to which dad replied, “We’ll ask Mrs. Higgins about that.”
Mother would always say, “…mamma wasn’t going to let that happen…” and she and dad would have a chuckle.
My sister says “…he was always at the woodpile when we drove UP…”
Seemingly, he chopped wood all the time.
The house was heated with wood burning stoves and I remember the kitchen being blazing hot from the big black iron range.
Most memories are cooking smells.
Grandma cooked all the time.
My cousin, Faye, reminded me that not only was there always food on the table, Grandma, as poor as she was, would feed the neighbor kids. Granted, many of them were her grandchildren, but just as many were not.
She’d give them little odd jobs allowing them to think they were earning their keep. Every time we visited there were kids galore, some cousins, some not.
And everything on Grandma’s table was home-made.
She baked biscuits every day in a pan she never washed; just wiped it out and re-greased it.
The iron skillet on top of the stove was enormous and according to my sister, Zola is “…too heavy for me to lift to the top of the stove…”
She fried fat-back, chickens (who’s necks she’d wrung) pork chops, and ham.
She baked pies, made her own jellies, put UP vegetables, and kept a spring house, and pantry.
Grandpa would sit at the table and eat just about everything with a knife. Peas, corn, meat. He never dropped a thing.
My sisters and cousins can’t remember him using a fork.
He wore dungarees, suspenders, and a white or light-colored shirt all the time.
There was a hat too.
Grandma always wore a dress, most of them jersey, and what we’d call “old lady comfort shoes.”
They were black, shiny, and laced UP.
Grandpa died at the age of 85, his arteriosclerosis getting the best of him.
Eventually, as I mentioned, Grandma went to live with my Aunt Bertie just down the road.
When we arrived, she always knew who we were – I’m supposing Bertie gave her a head’s UP on who was who – but she never made a mistake.
Always in her rocking chair with a cur at her feet – I was terrified of that dog – Grandma had a smile that reminded me of my mom’s.
In the early 1960s, when phone service came to Furnace Hill, Aunt Bertie had one installed. Mother would call from Ohio, and grandma would say “…I don’t like talking to you when I can’t see you…” and hang UP.
Grandpa was a Baptist – but probably not a very devout one. I never remember mother talking about him going to church.
Grandma, on the other hand, left the Christian Adventist Church in which she had been reared, and became a Baptist sometime before mom was born.
She was wary of other religions and especially cautioned mother and Aunt Diddie to steer clear of the Holiness Church in town. Apparently, it was on the way home from their own, and on the rare occasion Grandma would send them to church rather than take them, mom and Aunt Diddie would sneak a peek into the services.
Shaken by the Holy Roller worship style, they were immediately busted when they arrived home as for some reason, grandma always knew.
She went to church as long as she was able to get there.
So, what’s this rambling family story have to do with the Bible verse from Exodus.
Never once in my life did I hear mother or her sisters for that matter, ever say a bad word, lodge a complaint, or express a regret about their parents.
They honored their parents daily.
And like I said, mom died at nearly 96 and the whole town of Goshen showed UP for Aunt Diddie’s 100th birthday.
There’s something to it this honor thy mother and father idea.