Remembering the Past

Fifty-four years ago this month, we moved to Chesney's Little Acre on Maloneyville Road, a part of the old Jess Chesney Farm. Jess's son, Ross, had built a small block flattop house on the property before heading off to Chicago to try his hand in the auto industry. That four-room house, with concrete floors and no bathroom, became our new home. And to us, it was paradise.

At the time, James had just been moved from production work to hourly wages—$1.10 an hour—and we were paying $50 a month in rent. Uncle Jess offered to rent us Ross’s house for just $5 a month, with any improvements we made counting toward the rent. Installing water cost us $120, which covered two years of rent. That’s how it began—modest, but full of hope and possibility.

Back then, there were maybe a dozen houses between the George Maloney home and Tazewell Pike where the Shell station stands today. Many of those early neighbors have since passed on: the Roberts, Bakers, Sharps, Onks, Bridges, Halls, Graves, and the Chesneys—Jess and Lorn. After Cora, Jess’s wife, passed away from injuries sustained in a car wreck, Jess remarried and built a new home just above the old farmhouse. James’s parents later bought the original Chesney place. James and I had only lived here about two years when that happened.

The road in front of our house was quiet. The only regular traffic came from workers heading to Hillcrest North or the Workhouse, now known as the Knox County Penal Farm. The Jess Chesneys, who lived beside us, left early every morning for their jobs at the Standard Knitting Mill. Dewey Graves, on the other side, also left early. It felt like our own little town.

Everyone went to bed early, but James worked late. He wouldn’t get home until around 11:30 p.m. from his shift at Standard Knitting. We’d eat supper together then, and think nothing of stepping out into the yard for a midnight shower. We had no bathroom and only cold running water, but we made do for ten years until we built our current house—with two bathrooms and hot water.

A lot has changed in 54 years. The Roberts built a new home just beyond their original one, and their sons built homes nearby. Some of the Onks’ children now live in the old homeplace, and grandchildren have settled close as well. Much of the surrounding property has been sold off, and now a lot of the old Babelay land is for sale. It was sad to watch the old Crouger Graves house get torn down—I remember him sitting for hours on his front porch, keeping watch over the road.

My children had the freedom to roam wherever they pleased. Whether heading to the creek, picking blackberries, walking along the road, or playing in our yard or a neighbor’s, I never feared for their safety. We never locked our doors because we never needed to. But today, every door and window is wired with a security alarm monitored by the police.

The Workhouse, once a place where 9 months and 29 days was the maximum sentence, is now a prison. Time has brought change, but not all of it has been for the better.

60 Year Reunion

I pulled the letter out of the mailbox and opened it. I thought to myself, "How could this be?" It was an invitation addressed to me—an invitation to a reunion for graduates of Holston High School, Class of 1961. A 60-year reunion. Surely it hadn’t been sixty years since I graduated. But after doing the math, I realized it was true.

As I reflected, my mind went back to when I was 18. I didn’t know what I wanted to do in life. I had started at Holston High the first year it opened. I enjoyed my high school days and was an average student. I took typing, shorthand, and bookkeeping—business courses. But if I had known how my life would unfold, I would have taken music, art, and home economics. I’m thankful I learned to type—it has served me well. I should have paid more attention in English. I enjoy writing and blogging, but my grammar isn’t always right. It’s like my singing—I love it, but I don’t read music. I just open up and "let it fly."

Back to reminiscing. I had dated my high school sweetheart throughout school, and while we had plans to marry, we weren’t in a rush. In those days, if you weren’t going to college, you were expected to either get married or get a job. Coming from a family of eight children, and being the fifth in line and a girl, college wasn’t expected. So, I began job hunting.

My first part-time job was at Begard Impression Products, typing metal plates for credit cards. After that, I worked part-time at Kay Jewelers, also typing credit card plates. I enjoyed that job because my dad worked downtown, and we’d meet for lunch at Kress’s or S&W Cafeteria. Those lunches with Dad are precious memories.

Almost a year passed, and by 1962 I was making wedding plans. In June, I married my sweetheart at North Acres Baptist Church—my home church and the church where both James and I were saved. We had a beautiful wedding. My dress came from JC Penney, and our greenery was picked from the woods behind my house. With $40 in our pockets, we had a short honeymoon and moved in with James’s parents for the first year.

By early 1963, we were expecting our first child. We moved into a rental house on Greenway Drive, and that year, our daughter Pamela was born. Money was tight. James was working production at Standard Knitting Mills, making about $80 a week. Soon after Pam was born, he was switched to hourly wages, and our income dropped to $40 a week. Even with rent at just $50 a month, it was hard to make ends meet.

In the fall of 1963, we moved into a four-room block house on James’s Uncle Jesse’s property. The house had no running water or bathroom and had been sitting empty. We paid $5 a month in rent, with any improvements deducted. Installing water cost $120, which covered two years of rent. We never actually paid rent—after Uncle Jesse’s wife was killed in a car accident, he sold the property to James’s dad, who later gave us the acre we lived on. In 1972, we built a new home on that same acre. I’ve now lived on this land for 58 years.

After Pam was born and we moved to Maloneyville Road, life carried on. I was a homemaker, and James worked at Standard Knitting. In 1966, our son Byron was born. James began to think more seriously about our future—he hated his job. He decided the only way forward was to get a better education.

James, a high school dropout, passed his GED and college entrance exam, then enrolled at the University of Tennessee. At first, he took classes part-time. Eventually, we decided he needed to go full-time. That meant I had to go to work. In 1967, I was hired at Levi’s, putting zipper slides on men's pants. Minimum wage was $1.10, but because I worked standing, I earned $1.25 an hour. Byron was 10 months old; Pam was 4. I worked second shift for the next three years. James went to school during the day and took care of the kids in the evenings.

In 1970, James graduated with honors. He wouldn’t walk the stage, so we watched from the audience. I quit my job at Levi’s, even though he didn’t yet have a job—I hated that job so much. That summer, he worked part-time for our brother-in-law. That fall, he began teaching Social Studies at Mascot Elementary.

Life improved. In 1971, our daughter Jennifer was born. We were still in the block house and attending North Acres Church. In 1972, my dad was diagnosed with lymphoma and passed away later that year. We began attending Fairview Baptist, which was closer to home.

The years passed quickly. We built our house. The kids started school at Gibbs. I stayed home full-time. We kept a large garden, and I canned and preserved food. I sang in the choir. James spent summers hunting and fishing. We had three kids and a full life.

In 1977, I worked briefly for Olan Mills. Soon after, we became foster parents. Over five years, we cared for 15 children and eventually adopted a little boy—our son Josh. I got involved in the Foster Parent Association, wrote their newsletter, and taught classes for the University of Tennessee.

In 1979, I became a CNA at Hillcrest North Nursing Home. I liked nursing enough to go back to school. After earning my LPN, I worked at Saint Mary’s Hospital for two years on the med-surg floor. When I realized my kids needed me in the evenings, I applied at Hillcrest North again and got a day shift position in 1984. I worked there until I retired in 2003.

In 1992, my mom passed away from gallbladder cancer. Over the years, James taught at Mascot, East Knox, and Carter Middle. We joined House Mountain Church and were active members for 25 years. I worked in the Fellowship Ministry and sang in a trio. James taught Sunday School and served as a deacon. I took classes in sewing, tailoring, cake decorating, flower arranging, and more. We watched our children grow up, get married, and have kids. By 1988, we became grandparents. Eventually, we had 13 grandchildren—and now, 3 great-grandchildren.

Life has brought many joys and sorrows. The hardest season came in 2001 when our daughter Pamela was diagnosed with leukemia. She passed away in 2002 at age 39, leaving behind a husband and two young children. That same year, I was diagnosed with kidney cancer and had my right kidney removed in September. Pam passed away in December. Grief overtook me. I returned to work briefly but found no joy in it. I retired in March 2003.

James retired in 2009 after 30 years of teaching. We joined Union Baptist Church. I sang in the choir, and James again served as deacon and Sunday School teacher. Eventually, I felt restless and wanted something to do. I applied to Knox County Schools and was hired as a cafeteria worker at Corryton Elementary. I loved that job more than any I’d had. I worked there for five and a half years before retiring again.

In 2012, I wrote and published a cookbook for my family. It ended up selling about 300 copies and is now online. I go out often with two of my sisters and keep in touch with the rest of my siblings. I attend Highland Baptist Church, where I serve as Director of Missions. I still sing occasionally. James and I moved our membership to Highland after our son Byron became the pastor there.

The hardest blow since Pam’s passing came when James died in February 2016 after being diagnosed with lymphoma in 2008. We had been married almost 54 years. Life has changed drastically. I went from cooking for ten to cooking for one. Five loads of laundry became one. Making up several beds became making up half a bed. I run the dishwasher weekly instead of daily. I read, blog, and keep in touch with friends on Facebook. My family checks in on me daily. I still drive and shop on my own.

It’s hard to believe it’s been sixty years since I graduated from Holston High. Many of my classmates didn’t make it to this milestone. I thank God for the life He has given me and the blessings He’s poured out over these many years.

My Tribute to James

NOTE: I was going through a folder today looking for a letter that James had written to his grandchildren and found the memorial I had written to give at his funeral. I may have shortened it a little when I spoke that day, but this was my original copy. I decided to add it to my blog, SnoopSue's News and Views, to keep for my family.

MY JAMES

If you call him Carroll, you’re either family or a longtime friend. James and I met in this very same place almost 70 years ago—not the same building, but the original Highland Baptist Church, where my dad was pastor. He spoke often of memories from Sundays at Highland with his family and his good friends Ron Newman and Bill Monday. I’m sure at that time, he didn’t notice the preacher’s black-haired daughter. But a few years later, in 1956, after we had moved to North Acres Baptist Church, he noticed the preacher’s daughter singing in the choir, wearing a yellow dress.

In December of 1956, we had our first group date with our Sunday School class at a church Christmas party. I was 13; he was 16. The following fall, James called and asked if I would go to the movies with him. I asked my mom, who told me to call my dad at work. I did, and he said, "I’ll leave the decision up to you to do what you think is right." Of course, I said yes—and it was the best decision I ever made. For the next six years, we had a date every Friday night and saw each other every time the church doors opened. If my dad was preaching a revival, James was there. When I was 19 and he was 22, we were married at North Acres—the same church where both of us had been saved.

James couldn’t get a good job because he hadn’t finished school. A couple of humiliating experiences in the 5th grade had crushed his spirit. Once, he tried to harmonize during singing—like his mom, dad, and aunts and uncles—and the teacher said he was off-key. Another time, he "borrowed" a pair of binoculars from the teacher’s desk that had been left behind by a student who transferred. A big scene was made, his mother was called to the school, and she cried. That broke him. He refused to study from that point on. He read constantly, but only what interested him. As long as he didn’t cause trouble, the teachers passed him along.

In 8th grade, James was homebound with rheumatic fever. He was assigned a teacher and learned a lot during the five months he was bedfast. He later started at Central High School but dropped out in the 9th grade. He spent more time fishing and hunting than in the classroom. Most nights were spent riding around with his best buddy, Sherrill Greer, getting into mischief. James always said it was a praying mother that kept him safe during those years.

So when we got married, he was a high school dropout working at Standard Knitting Mill, running a knitting machine and making minimum wage. He hated it.

About four years into our marriage, one of his bosses at Standard encouraged him to get his GED and try to go further. By then, we had Pamela and Byron. He took the GED, passed it, then passed the college entrance test and enrolled at the University of Tennessee. He started college essentially with a grade-school education. Four years later, in 1970, he graduated with honors. That fall, he began a 30-year teaching career—first at Mascot Elementary, then East Knox, and finally Carter Middle School.

James loved teaching History, but more than that, he loved teaching the Bible. He served as a faithful deacon and Sunday School teacher at House Mountain, Union, and Highland Baptist Churches. It didn’t matter if his class had one person or forty—he prepared the same, writing most of his own lessons.

James was a praying man. He prayed for our children and grandchildren even before they were born—that they’d make wise decisions, marry well, and live for the Lord. I saw the fruit of that during his illness. More than just saying, "I love you, Dad," our kids said, "I’m praying for you, Dad."

The lowest and most broken I ever saw him was during Pam’s illness and death. He grieved deeply. He wanted her picture beside his chair. Often he would say, "I can still see Pam coming around the corner from the kitchen saying, 'Where’s Mom?'"

James was a man of few words. I once tested how few. On a trip home from visiting Jennifer in Chattanooga, I decided not to start a conversation to see how long he’d go without speaking. Two hours later, we pulled into the driveway—no words exchanged. But though quiet, he was full of wisdom. He wanted his children to live with integrity and without regret.

We shared 53 years of a good marriage, and I cherish every one. It broke my heart to watch the cancer ravage the body that had been my rock since I was 13. He wasn’t afraid of death. He told me he only wanted healing so that others’ faith would be strengthened by it.

This is just a glimpse of the man I loved—and the memories I’ll hold dear until we are reunited again.

My Daddy

James Edward Spencer was born on February 17, 1910. (See more about his family at the end of this Blog post).  

Maybe I should start with how my mom and dad met. My Grandmother Ramsey died when my mom was 13 years old. Some of her older brothers and sisters had already married so the remaining children went to live with their older brothers and sister. My Mom went to live with her brother Paul and his wife Ella. They lived down in the North Hills area. That is where my dad lived. Dad had some cousins that were going to Forestdale United Brethren Church and my dad went with them and that is where he met my mom. 

My Mom and Dad married on March 16, 1929. Mom was 16 and Dad was 19. Mama and Daddy moved to a house on Oak Hill Avenue that I understand was owned by my Papa Spencer.   Daddy and Mama used to walk from there to where Granny and Papa Spencer lived in the North Hills area and the street is now named Spencer Street. I remember Mama said that she used to see in the windows of other houses when they were walking, and she would admire their lamps in the windows and hoped that one day she would have one. 

Daddy used to walk from Oak Hill Avenue to his job at Albers Drug Company in downtown Knoxville. He would walk the railroad track. He used to tell us they were so poor and his shoes soles so thin that he could step on a dime and tell whether it was heads or tails. My mom would just say "now Edd". 

They didn't have a lot in material things but had a lot of love. While they were living in town their four older children were born. John, June, Phyllis, and Jim. At the time I am writing this John and Jim have both passed away. 

June and Phyllis could probably tell you some stories of when they lived on Oak Hill Avenue but that was before I was born so I have no memories of that time.  While living on Oak Hill Avenue they attended Grove City Baptist Church. I think even at that time Dad was feeling the call to preach so he decided to move to the country to get away from everything. So, they moved to Edmondson Road in 1941 and lived there until they both moved to Heaven. Dad in 1972 and Mom in 1992. 

After they moved to Edmondson Road they had four more children, Sue, Bill, Mary, and Ron.  Dad was still driving to Grove City for church because there was not a church in the immediate area. There was a widow named Bertha Lansden that lived at the end of Edmondson Road, and she had several children and Dad would take them all to church. So, they begin to look for somewhere to have a church. Dads’ cousin Ernest Warwick moved next door and he was a Preacher. So, they found an abandoned church that belonged to the Methodist over on Murphy Road. They got permission from the Methodist to use their church. It had been empty for a long time and had a lot of filth in it.  My Mom and the Widow Lansden took buckets of water and went and cleaned until the church was able to be used. Finally, the church was ready, and Ernest Warwick preached, and my dad taught Sunday School. The church began to grow, and they were having around 40 people and the Methodist decided they wanted the church back. They were developing the area close to where Mom and Dad had moved to, and it was called Highland Homesites. Mr. J.C. Cameron that was the owner or developer said he would give the land for a church on Babelay Road. There was a couple by the name of Davis that lived on Babelay Road that had been coming to the church, so they all met at their house and established Babelay Road Baptist Church. In their first business session they changed the name of the church to Highland Missionary Baptist. This was in 1942. (To read more about the establishment of Highland go to my Blog Highland Baptist Church.) 

My Dad answered to the call to preach, and he prayed and told the Lord he would preach if he had to stand on a stump and preach to two sticks.  Dad had a very successful ministry at Highland and after 5 years was called to pastor House Mountain Church and was there 2 years and then back to Highland Baptist for 4 more years. After that he helped establish North Acres Baptist Church and was Pastor there for 18 years before his death in 1972. 

My Dad was a hardworking man and not only had a full-time job at Albers Drug Company but also, he was full time Pastor. I say full time because he preached all services and did all the Hospital visiting, preached funerals, held tent revivals etc. I always remember my dad wearing a white shirt and a suit with a Bible under his arm. I also remember a lot of his sermons as he was a very dramatic preacher acting out a lot of his sermons. Dad preached a lot of tent revivals. (To read about a lot of his sermons go to my Blog that says Tent Revivals.)  I remember him walking the church benches at church. 

I remember dad smoking and throwing his cigarettes out the window coming up Edmondson Road and later going back to hunt them. When attempting to quit smoking he would dip snuff. One Christmas James and I went to Sears and bought him a Spittoon to use. 

I remember dad sitting in his favorite place at the table which was at the head of the table where he could look out the windows. It was sitting there that he looked out the window and saw the egg laying in the yard. This was after he asked Mom to make a Chocolate Pie and she told him she would, but she didn't have any eggs. He was sitting looking out the window when he said Conilee come watch me. He went out to the yard that he had been looking out the window and there in the yard was an egg. We did not have any chickens. The neighbors on one side had red chickens and across the road they had white chickens and this egg was speckled. So not knowing who it belonged to Dad got his Chocolate Pie. 

One of my dad’s favorite foods was the rolls at Kresse's. Working downtown he could go there and eat rolls at lunchtime. Sometimes that is all he would eat. If he didn't go to Kresse's he would go to the S&W Cafeteria for lunch. I went with him a few times after I graduated and was working at Kay Jewelers on Gay Street, and he would go in and the first thing he did was step on that big scale they had and weigh himself. He never weighed over 147 pounds.  

I remember my dad sitting in the recliner watching All in The Family. I remember him standing at the kitchen sink shaving in the little mirror. I remember how exciting he would get on election nights. We would always have an election party. 

I am sure some of you remember the Baptisms that we would have. I remember one time at House Mountain he was baptizing Mary Brooks (Herbert Brooks daughter, Martha Brooks sister) and she pulled him down into the water with her. 

Another of my good memories was when dad would take us to the Gallo to get ice cream. I am sure my brothers and sisters remember when he would take us to Cas Walkers on Magnolia Avenue after church on Wednesday nights (that's when he would get paid at Church) and we would get boiled ham and a big pickle. Then we would go just up the street to Krispy Kreme and get donuts. We would all go home and enjoy a sandwich and donut. June, Onloe, and their kids would come too. 

When Dad would get paid at work, he would get the groceries. He traveled Magnolia Avenue on his way to and from work so he would stop at Cas Walkers, A&P and White Store. We always looked forward to fish sticks when he got paid at work. With 8 kids we always just lived payday to payday. 

Dad also like to sing and had a good bass voice and sang in a quartet we had at church. Dad did not spare the rod. We often got a 'whipping' with his belt. I will have to say some more than others.  

In the Fall of 1972 Dad began to have some problems. His stomach enlarged and he was having some pain. He also was having some problems with balance and fell one church service as he was going up the steps to the pulpit. Dad was not one to go to the doctor until he had no other choice. So, he went to the doctor, and he was diagnosed with Lymphoma. They did surgery and if I remember correctly, it was in September. They found an enormous tumor in his spleen. They actually sent his spleen to the Army hospital in Washington for further study. The Lymphoma had already spread to the lymph nodes in his back and other places. They talked about treatment, but it never happened. Dad begin to lose a lot of weight and when he died on December 17th of the same year, he only weighed 65 pounds. 

All Dad wanted to be remembered for was being 'a little country Preacher'.  Dad was not one to show a lot of affection. My Dad gave me away at my wedding. He wouldn't marry any of his children.  I do not ever remember a time that Dad actually told me he loved me but that has never bothered me. Dad was not one to demonstrate his love, but I never had one doubt that my dad loved me, and I loved him. It has now been 48 years since my Dad passed away but there are still some people that remember his sermons and nothing makes me more proud than when someone says "I remember when Preacher Spencer preached on _____________ or Preacher Spencer married us _____________ or I was saved at one of the services he preached _________________."

More about Daddy's family: Papa and Granny Spencer

My daddy was born February 17, 1910, to Horace David Spencer and Etha Iona Warwick Spencer. I am not sure, but I think he was born in Grainger, County, TN. He was one of nine children falling 2nd in the order. His sister Arpie was the oldest then Daddy, Ann, Bill, Ruth, Jack, Luke, Marie and Hughell. 

Daddy never talked a lot about is childhood. I know they had a farm in Grainger, County and he used to talk about going up on the hillside and rounding up the cows. I think Papa's family lived there because I have heard others talk about the Spencer sisters from Grainger, County. I wish I had asked daddy more about his family and childhood, but I didn't. 

After moving to Knoxville his dad was a railroad worker. From what I have been told he drank a lot and was a stern disciplinarian. We did not go to Papa's and Granny's house a lot when I was a child. I think there was several reasons because others in the family had an entirely different relationship with them than my family did. I think first of all it was because there were so many of us. There were 8 kids in our family where the others only had two or three except for Luke and I think he had 5. My daddy not only worked a full-time job but pastored a church full time and held a lot of revivals and he didn't have a lot of time to visit. But we rarely went to their house and when we did, we usually sat on the porch. 

Also, for most of the time we lived in the 'country'. I don't remember Papa ever coming to our house.  Granny may have come but I don't remember her coming. She did come to the church that my dad Pastored at times. I do remember one time that she came she told me she hoped I had grandchildren that treated me like I treated her. I knew what she meant because she had other grandchildren that would hug and love on her, but she did not have that kind of relationship with me and my brothers and sisters. She did send me birthday cards at times, and she would always say ' to my only Iona'.  I had another cousin that was named Ione, but Granny spelled her name Iona and that is the way mine was spelled. She also came to my wedding.  

You may wonder why I am covering my Papa and Granny in my daddy's blog, but this is the only memories I have of them. I remember when my Papa died March 5, 1945, his body was at the home place, and they held me up over the casket to see him. I had just turned 5 years old.  I also remember my daddy standing in the kitchen crying when his dad died. I remember more about my Granny over the next years when I was older and going to see her more when she lived with Aunt Arpie and attending some of the reunions that we had. My granny died in 1966 at 78 years of age. Today as I write this all of Dad's brothers and sisters have passed. 

My Christmas Memories

Random Christmas Memories

One of my Christmas memories was one year when we were living in the block house. James always went out into the field and got us a Christmas tree. We didn't have a stand to put the tree in, so James put it in a gallon bucket. One Sunday we went to church and when we got home the tree had turned over and was laying in the floor. So, what did James do? He took fishing line and tied it to the tree and then tied it to a hook he put in the ceiling so the tree wouldn't fall over anymore. 

James’s mom and dad used to give us money for Christmas. They would give us $50 and that was what we used to buy the kids Christmas gifts with. I remember as times got better, and we were making more money we would put the $50 in the Lottie Moon Christmas Offering. 

Downtown Christmas Parade

When I was a little girl one of the biggest thrills of Christmas was to go to the downtown Christmas Parade. My dad worked downtown at Albers Wholesale Drug Company and on the day of the parade we would catch the bus and go downtown to meet him. The sidewalks on the streets were absolutely packed leaving only enough room for someone to walk up or down the sidewalk.  We would try to get as close to the front as possible and dad would usually have to put one of the smaller ones on his shoulders to see the Parade. There were beautiful floats. Ritta Community always had one of the very best. But the most exciting part was waiting for Santa Clause to show up. Our hearts would beat fast, and we were so excited. As a child I thought that Santa was real and seeing him was like seeing the President. Many times, it was cold and sometimes snowing but it was always the highlight of the season to go to the parade and to see Santa Clause. 

Pam's last Christmas with us. 

This story was actually on the 13th of December 2002. Pam always made lots of candy and cookies at Christmas time to give to her friends. Well, this year due to being in the last stages of leukemia she was not able to make the candy and cookies, so my sister-in-law Brenda and I offered to come to her house and make them for her. We got there early and the candy making began. Pam sat on the couch and gave us directions of what to do. In a little while we had several plates and tins of goodies made and we were going to deliver them to the places she wanted us to go. She got up off the couch and started down the hall and she said wait for me I want to go with you. So, after grabbing her shoes and coat we loaded in the car with all our goodies. Our first stop was Saint Mary's Hospital. Pam was a medical transcriptionist for the hospital. She was not able to go in but sat in the car while Brenda and I made the deliveries. Our next stop was the place where Michael worked and still does. When we got there, she wanted to go in. She said, "I need to thank them for being so good to me and allowing Michael to work a schedule that let him spend time with me at Vanderbilt." (She had now returned home from Vanderbilt.) So, we all went in there and she went around thanking them for all they had done, and we left them some goodies. Our next stop was Fairview Baptist Church where she wanted us to take candy to Bryan Wright and Keith Weaver. They were her friends and Pastor and she thought so much of both of them. Niina and Keith had been personal friends of Pam’s for years. She was not able to go in there but sat in the car while we made the deliveries. I would look in the back seat and she would be resting her head on the back of the seat with her eyes closed. Little did I know that this would be the last trip we would make to those places or anywhere. The next day was Saturday and she wanted all my family, her brothers, sisters, aunts’ uncles’ cousins etc. to come to her house for a Christmas Party. We did and she sat on the couch and watch us with a smile on her face. Little did we know that this would be our last time with her as a family. Jennifer called from North Carolina while we were all there and she did not recognize her voice. She told her she couldn't talk that her family was there. The next day James and I went over for a while. It was early the next morning of December 16th that I got the call from Michael to come. So, when you have the opportunity to spend Christmas with your family or make memories don't put them off or make excuses because someday you might need these memories to get you through the day.

A Candy Christmas and Loss of My Mother

This is actually a memory from December 7 & 8th 1992. My mom was very sick with cancer and my brothers and sisters, and I were all staying at her house to be with her and take care of her. On December 7th my sister June and I decided that we just had to have some candy to get us through this tough time. We have always been stress eaters you know not ones to lose weight under stress but to eat and gain. So off to the Fruit Market (the one that used to be at the corner of Loves' Creek and Rutledge Pike) we went. I don't know how much money we spent on candy that day but well over $50.00 and back in 1992 candy was a lot cheaper than it is today. Mother's buffet in the dining room was covered with bowls of candy. Early the next morning on December 8th, 24 years ago today, after 20 years of waiting, our mother went to join our father. Although our hearts were broken, and home has never been the same that had to be a glorious day for them and precious memories for us.

Christmas Light Gazing

Some of my fondest memories of Christmas was driving around in subdivisions looking at other people’s Christmas decorations. Especially the ones that had moving or musical decorations on their lawn. We did this a lot when our kids were little. They were always excited if the houses had a Santa Clause in the decorations. Another Christmas scene that we always like to see was the one at the church on Tazewell Pike where everything was life size. The three camels and all the animals Mary, Joseph and everything was life size. It was all in white with lights shining on it. Beautiful. 

Church Christmas Memories

Today I want to share with you my memories of Christmas at church when I was a child. My dad was the Pastor of Highland Baptist Church when I was born and so my earliest memories of Christmas at church was there. They would cut a huge cedar tree out of someone's woods and put it in the alter area of the church. It would be really big and then it would be decorated with all kinds of lights and ornaments, a lot of them homemade. On the night we had our program, which was usually one with lots of kids singing, being shepherds, wise men, and angels and of course Mary and Joseph and many times a real baby for the baby Jesus, just before we closed the service you could hear bells ringing and someone coming up the basement stairs and saying HO HO HO and guess what?  The kids, including me, would get so excited and Santa would appear. Later I knew this Santa was Mrs. Kirkland. And for years, when I was much older and we had left the church, she would call our house on Christmas Eve and pretend to be Santa. But back to the church. Santa would give every child a toy from under the tree. It was usually a doll for the girls and a truck for the boys. They would make sure that everyone got something because for some it was the only Christmas gift they got. And just as we were going out the door, we were given a bag with apples and oranges and chocolate drops and peppermint sticks and nuts. The only time most of us ever got fruit. I don't know what your opinion is about Christmas at Church, but these are some really good memories for a little black-haired girl that has spent her lifetime going to church. ...now I am waiting to hear from more of you about your Christmas memories.

A Downtown Christmas Memory

This was probably in the 1950's when I went downtown to Christmas shop with my sister June. She had 4 kids born in the 50's so they were all just little tykes. I am sure during all that shopping we made a stop at Kay's Ice Cream even though it was bitter cold. When we went downtown, we usually had a footlong hotdog and a chocolate malt at Kay's. Well as I said it was bitter cold and June's husband Onloe liked to play pool. There was a place down close to Regas Restaurant where he liked to play so when we finished shopping, we walked from downtown to the pool hall to ride home with him. I remember walking across the bridge before you got to Regas and the wind blowing and us almost freezing to death. We were loaded down with toys and could barely walk. When we got back to my mom and dad’s house, I guess mom had the kids, we were going to hide the toys down in their basement. Well, I had a nice little tumble down the basement steps toys and all. Guess what I got out of all of this? A Christmas memory with my sister June that I will never forget.

Christmas in the Spencer Home

Today I am remembering the Christmas's we had when I was growing up at home. There were 8 of us kids and we always had a good Christmas. My sisters and I always got a doll or play dishes and teapots and the boys would get trucks or wagons or guns and holsters. And usually as we got older, we would get some clothes from Watson's or Riche's.  Mom would make sure all the men and women in the family got either socks or handkerchiefs and that was enough. I never heard any complaining. We would all be together and of course eat. My brother-in-law Onloe was always saying he was going to spike the punch. Maybe he did. I don't know for sure. But there would always be big smiles on some faces that night.  I remember the first Christmas, after I married James, we were living with his mom and dad, and we went to my house on Christmas Eve and in the afternoon of that Christmas Eve we went to Sears and Roebuck which was on Central. We were looking for a spittoon for my dad. We were driving down Broadway and it was snowing, and we saw a fire. It was the Broadway Baptist Church burning. We had a hard time getting back up the hill when we got to mom and dads because of the snow. That year mom and dad had gotten our marriage license framed and gave it to us. We had gotten married in June of that year, and I guess we didn't have a dollar at that time to get a copy of the license. One Christmas, and if I know I will never reveal, someone gave all the ladies’ fancy underthings and put it from someone besides their husbands. You should have seen the looks going around the room not knowing who gave them or if it was for real or a joke. Well, I will never tell.  I don't have very many pictures of Christmas but here is a couple. They are a little ragged but in the first one starting in the back is my brother Jim, mom holding Randy (June's son) Me, brother Bill with the cap gun, my sister June and behind her, her husband Onloe holding their son Jerry. On the front roll is June's daughter Donna, my brother Ron, sister Mary and June's other daughter Judy. I guess dad must have taken the picture. In the other picture the faces you can see are Donna, Randy, Ron. Now waiting to hear from you about another memory you have of Christmas.

Christmas Caroling

Some of my fondest memories are going Caroling with the church group. When we were at House Mountain Church, we used to take the bus around the mountain and stop at all the houses and sing.  We also had a lot of fun Caroling at Union Baptist. At Highland Baptist the Ladies Ministry would go to all the shut-in members’ homes and sing and then go out to eat.  

Family Get-Together Christmas

We always had such a great time when all our family got together for Christmas after we were all married. There were so many of us we could barely fit into mama and daddy's house. But it didn't matter we sit where and ate where we could find room whether it be in the living room, bedroom, kitchen, or dining room. This particular Christmas I can remember so vividly. Unknown to us my sister Mary had been working for many months on a Christmas gift for all her sisters. I guess Phyllis's family wasn't there that year but, in the pictures, I can see some of my brothers Ron and Bill's families and June's. Also, if you look closely, you can see my good friend Donna Ogle's daughter Dawn sitting on the fireplace. I knew she went to one of our parties because Donna had to work but wasn't sure which one. Any way you can see the surprise on mine and June's faces when we opened our gifts. I don't know what has happened to all the other dolls in the past 26 years, but I still have mine laying on one of my beds. I will treasure this memory forever....

A Christmas Party that Would Change My Life

Christmas 1956, 60 years ago, I was just a 13-year-old girl in a Sunday School Class at North Acres Baptist Church. That year it was decided we would have a class Christmas Party at Mildred and Charles Copeland's house. They had two kids that were in our class Eddie and Jean. Much to my surprise James, known at that time as Carroll to all our friends, asked me to go with him and another couple to the party. I guess my parents said it was ok (or I wouldn't of went) and we went with the other couple IN A CAR to the party. This was my first time to ever go on a date in a car with no adults present. The other boy was driving so James and I sat in the back seat. I remember we had a really good time at the party and can't remember a lot of what we did except one game where you passed a life saver to your partner via a toothpick with your hands behind your back. Now that was really a sexy game in those days. Just to get that close to someone was really pushing the line. But it was that Christmas Party that changed my life because after that party a lot of eye gazing went on at church between James and me. In February I turned 14 and in the fall of that year James called and asked if I could go to the movies with him. I asked mom she said ask dad I asked dad and he said to use my own judgment and do what I thought best. OF COURSE, I thought it was the best thing to do. So that began 6 years of dating every Friday night plus all the time we spent together at church and talking on the phone. I graduated from high school in 1961 and in 1962 James and I were married. So, counting the years we dated this will be the first year in 60 years that we have not spent Christmas together.

A Book Giving Christmas

Christmas of 2012 was an exciting Christmas for all of us. Unknown to our family James and I had spent several months writing books and having them published. James’s book was one about a lot of his adventures and stories when he was growing up. He told about his adventures with his childhood friends fishing, hunting, camping out. He wrote about his cousin drowning in Nance's Ferry, about his dog Rusty etc.  The name of it was The Way It Was, Kind Of. My book was Cooking with Sue. I shared many of my own recipes and those that had been given to me by my family and friends. I dedicated the book to my mother and daughter Pam. I can still see the surprise on everybody's faces when they opened their packages. It was truly a gift of love.

A Christmas Wedding, Lost Shoes, and a Dress Double

The year was 1994 the day was December 23. The big wedding was fixing to take place between Jennifer Chesney and Jon White.  Now why anyone gets married that close to Christmas I have yet to figure out. Must have been the most convenient time since they had both just graduated from college. Jennifer had graduated a few months ahead of Jon from Temple in Chattanooga and Jon had just graduated from Crown in Powell. They had met when both were students at Temple and after Jennifer graduated Jon transferred to Crown. Jennifer was now teaching at Temple School in Powell. Jennifer decided that mom was capable of doing everything from making all the food and catering it, making all the flowers, and decorating, having all the bridesmaids’ dresses made, (no I didn't make them,) etc. And mom did. But did you ever give a blanket invitation to a church and school as large as Temple Baptist? Well in giving a blanket invitation you never know how many to expect. So, with the help of two of my sisters we had food galore. Of course, one of my sisters got sick and the other had all her family come in because some of them were in the wedding. So, they were kind of scarce that day. But we had a beautiful wedding and after 22 years the ties still bind. But two things I wanted to tell you about this Christmas memory. First, I wore a red dress and a pair of red shoes that day while I was preparing all the food and working at the church. Apparently when I changed into the clothes that I wore at the wedding my shoes got misplaced. I loved those red shoes, but they have now been lost for 22 years. The second thing I had looked for literally months for the perfect dress to wear as mother of the bride. It had to be perfect. The colors of the wedding were cranberry, hunter green and royal blue. After many months of looking for a dress, I finally found one at Dillard’s in West Town. It was perfect. The skirt part was royal blue, and the jacket combined all three colors. I loved it. The most expensive dress I had ever bought costing over $100. So, I was very pleased. But what to my wondering eyes should appear walking in the door of the church but my sister-in-law Brenda in the very same identical dress. Too late, no changing, no hiding. She was a server in the line, and I was the mother of the bride. The odd thing was that she was probably a size 6 and at that time I was at least a 22. But the wedding went on as planned and what did I get out of all of this besides a wonderful son in law? A pair of lost red shoes and lots of great memories to tell you about.