Last week’s news:
Feb. 17 – I’m sitting here this Monday morning, “lookin’ like this,” as my neighbor Paralee Rea always says. Good morning and greetings. It’s a beautiful day today as I write.
Prayers continue for my daughter Karen Davis, who is still not feeling well. Her husband, Dave, also needs our prayers.
I was thinking recently of how I started driving our car, a 1938 Ford sedan, at age 14 and served as chauffeur for a few of the older ladies in our neighborhood who rode to Sunday school with me each week. Back then we didn’t have to have a license to drive, and those ladies trusted me, even at that young age. As best I can remember, I got the ladies to the church safely each time.
Later we had to take a written test to get our license. Cecil Wilbanks was the official who gave the test; his office was in the building on the north side of the low-water bridge. The building was later used as a garage.
As I write, my granddaughter Kindra Vega, Marlyn’s daughter from Forsyth, has brought me a sandwich from Subway. She also brought along her little dog Rex. When I play my harmonica, Rex sings along, howling for all he’s worth. We’re good at duets.
This week’s news:
Feb. 25 – I wake up each day, still amazed I’m living in the year 2020. Right now I’m looking forward to spring and watching for signs that it’s on its way.
Talk of coronavirus is on the news. Thank goodness I don’t have to travel these days. Staying home seems the best way for me to avoid the risk of catching it.
The Bible tells us there will be troubling times and obstacles in our path, and this feels like one of those times as we send our prayers for Karen Davis, my daughter, who is recovering from her own illness and who now is mourning the death of her husband, Dave, who died Saturday in West Plains. They celebrated their 60th anniversary last November.
Dave’s daughter, Dana Taylor, was with him when he died and also his grandson Keith Davis and great-granddaughter Jaycee. His daughter-in-law, Christy Davis, had spent the morning with him before he died. My son, Lyndon Pitcock, and his wife, Linaia, came from Fair Grove to visit him, but after they learned he had died, they stayed with me awhile. I was glad for their company. They brought lunch, and we enjoyed it together.
Whenever I mourn the loss of a loved one, I remember our grief in 1935, when we lost our mother, Jennie Lee Ebrite Crawford, at age 50. Charlie Poole wrote the song “Sweet Jennie Lee” in her honor a few years earlier, when she was teaching school at Trail. She also taught at Udall and Bakersfield. He recorded the song on an old-time record. I still have several of those records. They are treasures.
In my memories I also remember in the 1930s when Alfred Gaddy drove an old Model T car and would pick up my two sisters, Ruth and Edith Crawford, and friend Lois White, and they would all go to school in Gainesville together. I was born in 1922, so I would have been 8 or 9 years old. I had to walk to school except when Leslie Breeding and his brother, Benton, would pick me up and take me to school with them. That was when Leslie was finishing up teaching school at Lilly Ridge to finish up another teacher’s term.
I’m thankful for Rebecca Hallmark, who came by on Monday to fix my hair. First we enjoyed sharing lunch TV dinners that I had in my freezer. Then we got to work on the hair-fixing. Rebecca said her brother from somewhere up north had been visiting her. She took a photo of me and sent it to the Herald to be shared here.
My granddaughter Kindra Vega had a friend come in to spend the night with her and my daughter, Kris. They enjoyed pizza at a local restaurant.
This is leap year, and this week we have that extra day, Feb. 29, in which we can do something for somebody. What good deed can we accomplish?