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

Posts tagged “Journal of Memories

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.