those Peebles’ hands. I like to think that I carry a little bit of Gran around with me as I too have those hands. I have often wondered who gave those hands to Gran (Robert Duncan Peebles) and how many generations they go back. There are many of us who have those hands. I could name a few: mother,
Ellen,me, Gran, Rayburn, Sandra, and Chad. I never notice them on anyone else, but with age I have learned that they are a symbol of strength and so
what if jewelry and nail polish could never make them look more ladylike – every time I look at my hands I remember. I remember Gran. Gran as stated before was one who when he died left each and every grandchild believing that he/she was his favorite. And I consider that a great accomplishment.
Chad Peebles has those hands, as does his Dad. Chad is right now using those hands to grasp those big bullets (I guess they are actually grenades) and load them into those pop guns that could cause someone to meet Allah sooner than they may wish to ordinarily. He is a Marine, our favorite Marine, currently serving this country that we so love. His father, Anthony Peebles, served in the military and was one of those who went to Grenada; he is another of my heroes. And sure as God made little green apples, he would druther, if he had his druthers, be home holding those he loves in those Peebles hands attached to those Peebles arms.
One of Chad’s sisters, Beth, cross-stitched the following poem about her Daddy’s hands many years ago. It describes those Peebles’ hands pretty well, I think.
I remember Daddy’s hands folded silently in prayer,
And reaching out to hold me when I had a nightmare.
You could read quite a story in the calluses and lines.
Years of work and worry had left their mark behind.I remember Daddy’s hands, How they held my Mama tight,
And patted my back for something I’d done right.
There are things I’ve forgotten that I loved about that man,
But I’ll always remember the love in Daddy’s hands.Daddy’s hands, were soft and kind when I was crying.
Daddy’s hands, were hard as steel when I’d done wrong.
Daddy’s hands weren’t always gentle,
But I’ve come to understand,
There was always love in Daddy’s hands.I remember Daddy’s hands working till they bled,
Sacrificed unselfishly just to keep us all fed.
If I could do things over, I’d live my life again,
And never take for granted the love in Daddy’s hands
~ Unknown author
Godspeed Chad Peebles. Thank you for your service to our country. Your family anxiously awaits your return and the return of all those brave boys and girls who are serving in the military. I would wager to say that there will be a lot of those Peebles’ hands waiting to shake your Peebles’ hands when you get home.
You know that sinking feeling you get in your gut while standing on the edge of a cliff? Yeah, that one. Hold that thought.
Now, imagine that you have just been told to step off…………..
There is nothing but air. You will surely fall and die.
I am the oldest of five children. Born and raised in a time when you never worried about your children playing outside, as a matter of fact, none of us ever considered staying inside on a beautiful day.
A bicycle was the accepted mode of transportation. Designer jeans were not an issue. No cell phones for distraction.
You had everything you needed…your best friend and a dollar for a drink and a honey bun at the store.
You went to Church on Sunday, and Mom never had to make us go. Our attendance was expected.
Life never got much more complicated than that.
Our family has been abundantly blessed with good health. Grandparents lived to ripe old ages, after living a full and happy life.
The closest I had ever come to cancer was a paternal aunt with Breast Cancer. It was so long ago, that I barely remembered it.
Then it happened. The diagnosis. The surgery. The recovery. The acceptance. The establishment of “new normal.”
To rebuild your life after the beast enters is not the easiest thing to do. I did what I had to do. It never occurred to me to give up, to not do what I had determined I would do and be in my life.
But.. my precious family still had to deal.
Looking back, I can see that each of them dealt with the beast in their own way.
My brothers and sisters have always known and still do, that I am here for them. They can talk to me about anything. Sometimes I give good advice, and sometimes I just listen.
But I’ve always been here.
Now they had to face the possibility that I may not “be here”
I know they love me. I never doubt that, just as they know I love them. We have and will always love each other.
If you know my family, you know these truths..
1. We are affectionate.
We love one another and are not afraid to show it. Hugging is acceptable. Kissing is optional.
2. We are loyal.
All for one and one for all.
3. We are always and I mean always here for each other.
No one has to go through troubles alone, not with the Peebles Clan.
4. We are LOUD!
I know, but the truth is what it is. I have watched many videos of us at family gatherings and the volume has to be turned down.
Like my daughter Shelley says, “It’s the only way to be heard in this family, to get louder than others.”
My family is very important to me. I was taught that you “took care” of the little ones. And I did that.
I have been told, I did it so well, that I would take their punishment for them.
Now before you get all “well she is just bragging” on me, wait a second…
I was only a little girl, and I certainly don’t remember doing it…….so it’s not as noble as it sounds. But… I would do it today in a heartbeat.
Just as they would for me.
But the beast was one enemy that they couldn’t fight for me. That one had to be dealt with one on one
.Man to man.
Beast to SURVIVOR
Every brother, every sister that I have would have fought the beast for me. I know that, if they could they would have gladly done what ever it took to get me through the battle with the beast.
But in life, there are some battles that are meant to be fought alone. The only help you have or will ever have is HIM.
And that is all a warrior needs in a battle of any kind is HIM.
Please never think that I am better than any other survivor out there. I never felt special or singled out for any special or divine purpose.
I was just a working mother, with a life that I loved and a family that I loved.
Battling a beast as strong as cancer was not on my life’s agenda. Or so I thought. Now, looking back, I realize that it is exactly what I was supposed to do and be.
It is a time of my life of wonderful lessons.
Lessons learned and hopefully taught to others through my struggles of how life can be lived. And that the beast doesn’t always win.
Most of the time it wins, but there are those times that we can look at with new hope, new faith, new strength. Those are the times that we should strive for whether dealing with cancer or with the jerk who cut you off on Woodward Avenue.
Those times when you know you are loved, you know you are strong, you know you are the “best you can be”
You just know !
And if the battle with the beast is lost………………………..
Well, to be absent here is to be present……………where???
That is the question.
I love my family, they love me.
There are just no givens in life. No certain outcomes. No promise of another day. No guarantee that what you want is what you’ll get. Not one of us is guaranteed our next breathe.
But you are promised an eternity. Time without end.
A wonderful alternative to the beast
Eternity, what a lovely word
The next lesson I learned from cancer, and every day life is this.
Family is the heart of the matter
We don’t get to choose them. They are GIVEN to us. I love that idea!! This group of people were chosen just for me. This Mother, this Father and these brothers and sisters are mine.
There is no one in the world who has a family like mine. The unique personalities and bond that we share is not so common these days.
You are truly my foundation.
Family…. The Heart of the Matter.
- Dear Cancer, (rockstarronan.com)
- Sporadic Thoughts on Cancer (and more than you ever wanted to know about a certain procedure) (mikedellosso.wordpress.com)
- Things I Learned from Cancer 101 (1) (rememberingtheshoals.wordpress.com)
- Things I Learned from Cancer 101 (2) (rememberingtheshoals.wordpress.com)
- Things I Learned from Cancer 101 (3) (rememberingtheshoals.wordpress.com)
- Things I Learned from Cancer 101 (4) (rememberingtheshoals.wordpress.com)
- Things I Learned from Cancer 101 (5) (rememberingtheshoals.wordpress.com)
- Things I Learned from Cancer 101 (6) (rememberingtheshoals.wordpress.com)
- Things I Learned from Cancer 101 (7) (rememberingtheshoals.wordpress.com)
- Things I Learned from Cancer 101 (8) (rememberingtheshoals.wordpress.com)
it does a body good.
I remember Mama, my grandmother Drue Peebles, leaving the empty milk bottles by the front door. The number of bottles left at the door indicated the number of filled bottles that the milk man was to leave by the front door. Even now, I can recall the clink of the bottles against the metal wire carrier that the milk man used to transport the milk bottles from the milk truck to the front porch. the cream skimmed off the top was a decadent delight.
There have been several dairies in the Shoals area but I know of none that exist today. I recall a field trip when I attended Southwest Elementary in Sheffield to the dairy farm. The dairy farm property is located across the highway from Hardee’s on Highway 72 in Muscle Shoals. The buildings are still there, or at least were when I was last by there. But the dairy yielded to progress years ago. There we saw them milking the cows. There was a big picture window where we stood to watch the milking process from outside the building. There were several metal rails that resembled cattle chutes. They herded the cows in and lined them up to the milking machines. Iirc, the name of this dairy farm was Glendale.
I recall feeling sorry for the cows. Now bulls won’t understand my sympathy, but cows should. I considered at this young age, how that it is only the female that has to undergo such, er treatment….and if I recall correctly, it was twice a day. Of course, I was too young to understand what engorged breasts might feel like in comparison then. But, again raise your hand if you will, I can now empathize with hands being used to pull and push and prod breasts into machines that further pull and push and prod.
The most important company for dairy to Sheffield was Streit Milk Company. It was located beyond the railroad tracks going toward Tuscumbia. I recall Paul Saywell Motors, Southern Sash, The American Legion Post and the Dairy Queen that became Dairy Kingas being nearby. Ideal Bread Company was on the other side of the street and could be accessed by going down Shop Pike. I remember Mama and Gran, Robert and Drue Peebles, going there and buying the freshly cooked bread before it was sliced. The smell of the bread baking would make your mouth water. I also remember the ice man who would bring the giant cubes of crystal coldness to Mama’s house. With the big metal tongs he seemed to pick up and easily carry the heavy crystal clear dripping ice to her door. Sometimes I would be there when he would put the block of ice into Mama’s ice chest. She was the only person I ever knew who had an actual ice chest. But, I digress.
There was also the Dixie Dairy. It was located in Florence, Alabama. It started operation in 1938. But in 1947 Cloverdale Dairy bought them out.
There was also Rosedale Dairy located in Tuscumbia. It was a family dairy farm as well. After the owner died the farm was sold. Mary, who grew up on Rosedale family dairy grew up milking cows, hauling hay, slopping hogs, and feeding calves and chickens. She managed to buy three and a half acres and has aptly named it Rosedale Garden. Read more about her here. She is a remarkable lady – a real GRITS.
Below are photos of Streit Milk Company glass bottles. Please feel free to add your memories and photos.
Evidently Streit operated in the county before it opened up as Streit Milk Company in downtown Sheffield, Alabama. The antebellum home located on Little Hatton school road was operated as a dairy farm, according to Wayne Austin who had a series of conversations with one of the Streit relatives some years ago. There was also a Streit Store operated in the Little Hatton area around the same time.
How well I remember the Milkman!
My dad worked at Streit Milk Company back when I was a girl. He would get up at 2:30 every morning and begin his work day at 3:00. He would load his truck and run his “retail” route, delivering milk to homes. I don’t remember much about his route but I do remember that he delivered milk on Park Blvd.
When he finished his route, he would come home for breakfast. We would be up, getting ready for school, and we would have breakfast together, the whole family. Daddy would have his truck loaded for his “wholesale” route when he delivered milk to cafes, grocery stores and schools. I remember seeing him bring milk to Atlanta Avenue Junior High School right after school began each day. Some of the places I remember hearing him talk about delivering milk to – Liberty and Bingo Super Markets, Blankinship and T. T. Stanley Markets, Victory and Brewer’s Café.
He would be finished with his day and be home by dinner time (we did not have “lunch” in those days – it would have been pretentious). Mother would cook a big meal, they would eat, and the rest was for supper.
I remember those small bottles of chocolate milk and I remember when they began selling the orange drink in those same bottles.
Remember when cream for coffee in restaurants came in those little bitty glass bottles? I have a couple of those.
I remember that our milk at school came in ½ pint glass bottles with the cardboard pull tab for a cap.
[snip] Daddy left the milk company and worked construction when the Ford plant was being built. From there he went to the Sheffield Post Office where he worked until he retired. He carried mail to many of the house to which he had delivered milk. Precious memories! [snip]
seems to be all that documents that Evaline Casey ever existed on God’s green earth. Everyone deserves more than that.
Evaline Casey, daughter of Willis Robert Lucas Casey and Anna Manus Casey was born 1887 in Center Star, Lauderdale County, Alabama. Most of the family pronounced her named as though it was spelled Everlean. Her father was kicked by a mule or horse and died as a result of his injuries while Evaline’s mother was carrying her second daughter and youngest child. She lived her adult life in the home of her sister and family.
Evaline Casey was never married. She died in 1951. She is buried in an unmarked grave at the head of her sister and her sister’s husband at Cottingham Cemetery in Lawrence County, Alabama. She rests next to her mother Mary Anna Manus Casey whose grave also lies unmarked.
The only two photos that are known to exist of her are featured below.