July 16, 1953
Transcribed by Janette West Grimes
Editor Has 62nd Anniversary, July 8th
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Ye editor has passed another milestone on the one-way
road that leads from the cradle to the grave. This event, (which)* was birthday
No. 62, took place on last Wednesday. The editor of the Times was born on
Wednesday morning, July 8, 1891, at the foor of Mace's Hill, on the west side,
on the side of the old Fort Blount Road. He was the firstborn of his parents,
Thomas Morgan [Dopher] and Etta Ballou Gregory. On our father's side of the
house, we have a lot of hill billy blood in our veins. Our mother's folks were
once slave owners and had quite a lot of what some called aristocratic notions.
They were generally well educated for their day and time, while our father was
not able to read and write until he was 21 years of age. At that period in
life, he had to go to Carthage, the county seat of Smith County, and sign his
name by mark, which so embarrassed him that he resolved to learn how to read
and write even at that age. He accomplished his aim in this respect, although
his pronunciation of some words would hardly be permissible to go through the
mails if word sounds could be mailed. As we have heretofore related, the writer
taught his father, his "Pappie," to him, all that he ever knew about
arithmetic. As we have recently said, he had but little trouble learning how to
add, some greater trouble in learning how to subtract, and never did learn how
to divide. We were 29 years younger than our father, so he was about 40 years
old when he learned the meager things of mathematics at the hand of, shall we
say, "mouth" of his 11-year-old son.
Our parents were as unlike as
any two we ever knew. Our father loved the hills and their people. Our mother
did not like the hills and wanted to leave them for the flat lands of Texas.
Our father was a born musician and had a good voice for singing, but our mother
never sang one line of one song from our earliest recollection to the day of
her death, which occurred on Sunday night, November 24, 1912. Our mother was a book worm in a measure; our father
read but little except the newspapers. Our father was perhaps the closest
observer we have ever known, versed in all the ways of all the wild life about
him, a crackshot with the old-fashioned, cap-and-ball rifle. He was the best
forecaster of coming weather we ever saw. On the other hand our mother had
virtually no knowledge of the things of nature and often made blunders that
evoke a laugh or a sarcastic reply from our father. But she was possessed of
the most remarkable memory of any woman we have ever known, being able without
recourse to written records to tell the exact date of birth of practically all
the children in her section for miles around. She also remembered what she had
read. She was soft-spoken while our father had a strong and sometimes harsh voice, although he was
gifted to singing and musical talent. Our father was the "straitest"
of all men we have ever known. Our mother was as good and kind as any woman we
have known in our more than three-score years. But when necessary, she could
rebuke with withering scorn. She was a fine conversationalist, while our
father, although very polite, was somewhat timid. Anyway, we feel that we had
just about the best "Pappie" and "Mammy" that any boy ever
had. God bless their memory and help their first-born to be a worthy son of as
worthy parents as we ever knew.
On our birthday members of
the editor's family and the church at Mt. Tabor presented him with a nice lot
of gifts totalling perhaps $50.00 in value. We also received the good wishes of
a number of our friends. We wish to express our sincere and heartfelt thanks to
each donor and each well wisher.
The editor is in fair health
and for this he gives thanks to the God he has tried to serve for nearly 44
years. He is still able to put in 100 hours of hard work each week. His memory
is not what it has been in the past, but we are thankful that it is as
"useful and handy" as it is. We are fairly strong for our 62 years,
being able to shoulder and carry a load of 120 pounds without too much
shortness of breath. We do not mean to boast in anything we here say. We do not
know of any infirmity that we have which is of a fatal nature. For this we
again offer thanks to our God.
At 62 we still desire to go
on and not slacken "in the traces." In every-day language, we have no
desire to quit work and take out. We still find life interesting and quite
inviting. So we plan to do our utmost to live and carry on. There are so many
things we want to dao that we are sure we shall not be able to accomplish half
of them.
We are now 18 years older
than our poor, tired "Mammy" was when she folder her weary hands and
left her ten children. Life for her was hard indeed. Without any of the
modern-day, labor-saving devices brought to this generation, she carried water
from a spring 130 yards from the house, did her own washing, largely by hand,
did practically all the sewing for a large and increasing family, did her own
cooking, preparing three hot meals each day for years and years, and bearing a
child every two years until Albert arrived, her tenth child, who was born in
1909. Truly she had a hard time.
The writer is now about ten
years older than his dad was when he "quit the walks of men" and left
us to return no more. We thought that he was a very old man when he was 50. Now
we do not feel nearly as old as we thought "Pappie" was when he had
lived half a century. He, like our mother, had a very hard time and wore
himself out all too soon, for his 10 children whom he loved with as great
affection as any man we ever knew. God bless the memory of both our parents,
and grant that some day their three sons and seven daughters may join them in
the great summer land of bliss. Two of the number have already gone, Albert,
the youngest son; and Anna, the fifth daughter.
We extend our thanks to the
friends of the years gone by, and to those who have helped in any way, we say
big and loud, "Thanks a million."
Transcriber Note: *Label
over word looks like (which).