By Ruth Nesbitt, Guest Columnist
Being a Southern girl all of my life, and the fact that I was raised on the mill hill, made me strong, self-reliant, thrifty, honest and well mannered. For those who don’t know what a mill hill is, it’s a small community of usually four room houses built within walking distance of the cotton mills.
This gave the employees an economical home, and it saved on gas and time getting to work. There were no drive-by shootings – heck, no one had enough money for a car. All of the neighborhood kids spent the summer running around and eating at whoever’s house had the best food.
There were no gangs, and we all knew that if we misbehaved at anyone’s house, they had the authority to spank us, and then you got it when you got home and the neighbor called to report your behavior. This reinforced the “well mannered” part of my upbringing.” To this day, when I open a door or give a seat to an elderly person, they tell me that my Mama brought me up right – and they are correct.
I worked from the time I was 16 and continued until I retired from IBM after 30 years because my husband was sick.
I wrote the following one night when I was talking to an old friend and we were remembering my daddy. So many things young people should ask before it is too late.
Henry Wade McAbee was my father. He died peacefully on Dec. 18, 2005, at age 87 at home, surrounded by his family.
He was a World War II veteran of the U.S. Army and was a recipient of the American Theater Services Medal, Asiatic Pacific Service Medal with one Bronze Star, Philippine Liberation Medal, Good Conduct Medal and World War II Victory Medal. I never knew about these medals and little about his time in the Army until after he died.
I knew that he was a farm boy from Murphy who moved to Gastonia to work in the mills. He met and married my mother, and they had three children. As you grow up, you are too busy in your own world to realize that there was another life that they led.
Daddy and Mama provided a safe home, spiritual upbringing and taught us love and respect for everyone, regardless of their age, color or nationality. I was never exposed to prejudice, so I never had to change.
One day I was at Daddy’s reading to my niece. A program came on TV showing the Philippine Islands, and Daddy turned to me and said this was the beach head they had gone in on in the war. We started watching, while Daddy talked.
“When I joined the Army, I and many others were farm boys who had never traveled outside of North and South Carolina. They sent us to training as infantrymen because we all knew how to shoot and were familiar with rifles.
“After training, we were sent to California and loaded on huge ships to go overseas. For the entire trip, most of us were so seasick that we couldn’t eat or sleep very well. We had to fight people who were trying to kill us, but it’s never good no matter how long you are trained to do it or have to do it.”
Daddy had been in a truck wreck in the Army and had a piece of glass embedded in his skull. We knew that he had bad headaches, and when one of us kids hit a certain place hugging him or playing, it would hurt something terrible. He finally went to a doctor that found it and removed it. He was told that he could go to the VA and apply for disability, but he said that was for people who really needed it. He never took a penny.
The Daddy that I knew worked a different shift from my Mama, so we would have someone home with us. He dyed eggs for our school classes, cooked meals for us and made cookies/cupcakes to take to school. He volunteered to take field trips with us when Mama could not, and all of this while working 8-16 hours in a 100-degree cotton mill, lifting and pushing heavy machinery.
He took us to the Catawba River and taught us to swim. He took us to the first Krispy Kreme in our area. When his father in Murphy got cancer, every weekend he plowed, hauled wood and did chores so my grandfather could live in his house as long as possible. He and Mama moved my grandfather and grandmother into our little house when they could no longer care for each other, and they died at home there.
I wish I had asked more about my parents “life before kids” because they were so much more than what I knew. No matter, my Daddy was a hero to me for 87 years, even without the prior knowledge of his life. I will miss him and Mama forever
Ruth McAbee Nesbitt is a resident of New Bern.