The past is the present for future generations who do not know their history

Posts tagged “Beth Terry Murray

A journal of a life of memories…

has been written in parts by Beth Terry Murray. She has approved our posting some of them here. They will come in the parts as written. Enjoy.

One Man’s Life (cont.)

I should mention here that most people remember him being called Wilbo or as his family called him “Bo”.

We had been living in a house next door to my Uncle Glen and Aunt Stella, I loved it because I got to see my cousin Pam every day and there were kids around the neighborhood that we saw all the time. In that house we slept on a sleep porch at the back, my daddy and Ricky slept in a full size bed at the very end of the porch, then I slept in a baby bed that was turned to touch the foot of their bed, and my mother slept in a half bed that touched the end of the baby bed. Yes…..from what I remember I slept in that baby bed until we moved into our new house in 1961, where I had my own bedroom with a new bedroom suit.

Mother had inherited 4 1\2 acres when her parents died and my daddy had bought one of her sisters 4 1\2 acres which then meant he had 9 acres. I really didn’t know what exactly that meant, but I knew by the smile on his face that it meant a lot to him. He bought me and my brother Shetland Ponies and himself several Black Angus Cows. Now the cows were by no means a huge herd, but it was his dream to have something that belonged to him and his own family that he could love and knew would always be there for him. I never doubted for one minute that he loved me and would have done anything for me. As a matter of fact, I remember when we were studying how to tell time in school. I could not get the hang of it and when the teacher would give us a test on clocks I would break out in a cold sweat. My daddy knew I couldn’t read clocks so he took off work 1\2 a day when I was out of school. He went into his and mother’s bedroom and got his Big Ben alarm clock and sat with me all afternoon until the light went on over my head and I had the hang of it.

His mother moved to Town Creek when I was about 8 years old, and he treated her as if she had never left. By the time she came home my grandfather Tom had been killed in Leighton at a little store he managed. A man had come in late one night and stabbed him to death. When Mama Terry moved back to Town Creek it was as if she never left, daddy went to see her every morning before he went to work. His work consisted of being a meter reader for the gas department, I know he would mention wanting a higher paying job periodically, but with the one he had he got to talk to people and that was something he loved to do. He came into my bedroom every Sunday morning and read the comic paper to me, in a very deep voice. To my knowledge he never culled anybody, no one was beneath him or better than him. He never met a stranger and he helped anyone that he saw in need. He called the brothers and sisters that lived out of town to schedule vacations and to let them know when they were expected to be home. I can assure you if Bo wanted you at home at that time, then you were home. The brothers and sisters would fish and sit around and talk about all the old times. Most of the kids would sit there and listen as long as we could, at least until the mosquito’s came out.

 

 

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A journal of a life of memories…

has been written in parts by Beth Terry Murray. She has approved our posting some of them here. They will come in the parts as written. Enjoy.

My Daddy was killed in an accident…

For those of you that might be wondering what type of accident my daddy was killed in, then here is your answer. He had been using a drill earlier in the morning of October 3rd and it flew out of his hand because of a short in it. My daddy was used to being a jack of all trades so at lunch he went to the truck and “fixed” the drill. I can see him in my mind as I had watched him “fix” things many times. I’m sure he wiggled the cord, maybe even found a place where there was wire exposed and used electrical tape to fix it. My guess, not sure about that at all. Anyway, he wanted a color tv which were not cheap back in those days, so he was doing extra odd jobs for different people.

That afternoon he was under a ladies house in Leighton, lying on a piece of tin, which had water under it, whatever the job was he had finished and asked the lady to unplug the drill. As she was going into the house to unplug it, he reached for it, and was electrocuted. His death was instantaneous, and the palm of his hand had been burned where the electricity had entered. Later, probably years later, it occurred to me that this was a man that would not wear a wedding ring because too many electricians had been electrocuted that way. Yet on that day he was lying on a piece of tin, with water underneath, using a drill that had flown out of his hand earlier. Some might say “He had a bad day.”
I would have to say, “It was the day that had been appointed for God to take him home.” That day will come for all of us, I pray each of us will be ready.

A note to all of you that read these posts: they probably were not the most pleasant thing you have ever read, but I did not mean it to be that way. Daddy never felt sorry for himself, he always was very happy go lucky. He attempted to swim across the river one time and almost made it, before giving out. He was always cutting up with someone or pulling a prank on someone, he loved to laugh, and the only time he ever whipped me with a belt I think he cried more than I did. Anytime I was scared at night, I would run across the hall to my mother and daddy’s bed, my mother would tell me to go back to my room, but my daddy who was on the other side would call me over there, hold up the covers and let me lay down with my back to him. He would wrap his long arms around me and whisper in my ear that “everything was all right and he loved me”. He definitely was something special.

 


A Journal of a Life of Memories…

has been written in parts by Beth Terry Murray. She has approved our posting some of them here. They will come in the parts as written. Enjoy.

One Man’s Life

This post is about my Daddy’s life. He was born on April 6, 1925 to Thomas Benton Terry and Lula Elizabeth Mayes Terry, he was named Wilburn Drew Terry and was the baby of the family. When he was 6 years old his mother ran off to Texas with another man and left him and his 6 siblings with their daddy. They lived in Courtland near, what would later become the airbase. His daddy was a dirt farmer and could not take care of all the children, so my daddy roamed from house to house with what little clothes he had and he stayed with the different families until they told him he would have to move on because there was not enough food. As I recall he would stay with 6 different families: 1. Hoover Reding’s family, 2. Hollis Green’s family, 3. Fuzzy Terry’s family, I know the other 3, but I am drawing a blank at this time.

His mother came home periodically, mainly after the cotton had been picked and my grandfather had money. Why he would give it to her I have no idea, maybe she made promises she didn’t keep, I don’t know. She bought my daddy a pair of red cowboy boot’s one time and promised him he could go back to Texas with her, he just needed to run get his clothes together, which he did. When he got back to the bus stop she was at the back of the bus waving goodbye to him. (this story he told me himself and yet, he had no bitterness about it) When he got older he went to live with his sister Gladys and her husband in Gadsden. He even attended Emma Samson school for a while, but never graduated from any school. He joined the army and got his GED while there.

Helen and Hoover Reding were dating, and decided to introduce my mother to daddy. She was putting up a Christmas tree and I suppose it was love at first sight according to the stories she always told me. They dated for a while and he asked her daddy if he could marry her and of course, Papa Jenkins consented. However, after daddy had asked her and gone home, Papa called mother into the living room and asked her if she knew who Daddy’s mother was? She said yes, but she was not marrying his mother. My mother was also the baby of a family of 10 children and she and Helen had a job in Decatur and would ride a bus everyday to work.

My mother and daddy were married in a double wedding with Hollis and Amelia Green, at the Methodist Church in Town Creek.
So if you ever see where Susan Green Williams calls me her sister on Facebook this is the reason, our parents got married together and ran around together. I’m thinking the year they married was 1948, but I may be wrong. They lived in Courtland for several years before moving to Town Creek. Thomas Richard Terry (Ricky) was born on April 23, 1954 and a precious daughter Martha Elizabeth Terry (Beth) was born on September 5, 1956.
Life was good, laughter was plentiful, and soon a plan began to form for them to build a house on land mother inherited from her parents.

To be continued……….