Treasure Chest Thursday - Grandma's Jade Ring

Many, many years, when I was a little girl of only 5, my Grandma Bean removed a ring from her pinky finger, and placed it on my ring finger. She told me she wanted me to have the ring.

The ring is a tiny [size 4 I think!] pinky ring with silver band and scrolled setting. The stone, jade.

Grandma Beane was born on 03 Jun 1897 in Monroe County, West Virginia. The tiny hamlet of Centennial, which is no longer present, but lies between Gap Mills and Sweet Springs, on US Route 3, was her home. She was born to Stephen Ledford Faudree and his wife, Elizabeth Carnifix. She was the eighth born of ten children to the couple.

For years Mary sat with the elderly, performed housekeeping for pay, and even worked with the deaf and mute. Her education was limited, but she was taught much within the home, and could read and write quite well.

In 1935, she met John Monroe Bean, Sr. He was a widower, twice over. And he was the father of 12 children. The eldest was a year older than Mary, and the youngest had been living with an Aunt since his birth, six years earlier. On 01 Dec 1935 at the M.E. Church in Covington, Alleghany County, Virginia, John and Mary were wed. They set up a home in Waiteville of Monroe County, where John had resided most of his life.

By now, Mary was 38. And John was quite a bit her elder, at 69.

In 1937, Mary, now 40, had her first child, my father, Walter.  20 months later, shortly before her 42nd birthday, she had another son, Edsel. And four years later, her youngest son, Roy Edwin. By the time of the last child's birth, Mary was 46, and John was 77 years old.

In 1946 Roy Edwin died from a ruptured appendix at the tender age of 3. And in 1954, John died. He was a little over 87 years of age.

In 1964, Mary moved from her home in West Virginia, to join our family in Norfolk, Virginia. It was then that she gave me this ring.

For the next 10-1/2 years she was there for the laughter, tears, and joys of a young girl's growing up. She was even there for the growing pains of the loss of first love. She left us to join her ancestors on 01 January 1975.

The little ring is worn completely through in the back of the band. I wore it continuously until I gained weight as an adult and could wear it no longer. It now resides in a favorite old jewelry box, where my mementos hide until I can bear to look at them on occasion. [I don't know about others, but I become so melancholy when I look over these treasures of mine!] Each time I pull it out, I am reminded of the scent of vanilla as Grandma baked custard, or the crispy bite of chicken she had me "help" her fry. The baby powder she used on the canvas of her sneakers to keep them clean. The "White Shoulders" 'parfum' she dabbed behind her ears. The tissue she kept inside the hem of her sleeve. The dainty fringe of hair she had, all curled tightly. Her oddly gray eyes. And her smile.

Grandma never spoke an unkind or harsh word in my presence. As a matter of fact, she told me more than once... "If you can't say something nice about someone, then don't say anything at all." And I loved her, "It's better to be thought a fool, than open your mouth and be proven to be one!"

And she gave the absolute best hugs in the whole wide world.

When Grandma passed away, I was fifteen years old. I can remember the day she was buried was so cold, and the ground frozen so hard that they had to dynamite the grave open in order to bury her. As we stood on the hillside, and the minister said the final words at her graveside, I totally lost control. I collapsed in the arms of a dear old family friend, Albert Wiseman. Mr. Wiseman was a wonderful, grandfatherly man, and attended church with us. As a matter of fact, he was our Sunday School Superintendent. He and his wife, Elsie, wrapped their arms, and their coats about me. The three of us, literally tucked inside one another's coats on that windy day. Mr. Wiseman reached out a gnarled hand and wiped away the tears running down my cheeks with his handkerchief. "Cyndi, Grandmother wouldn't want you to cry, you know. She's having the best reunion she's ever had right now!"

Recently, when another genealogy researcher lost her mother, she posted on Facebook that her mother had joined her ancestors that morning. It was then I was reminded of Mr. Wiseman's words back in January of 1975.

While I plan to live for many, many years yet, I am so looking forward to that day, when I can step through the garden gates, and be met by my own ancestors for a family reunion!

Until then, I will occasionally pull out the little mementos and gather up the memories and call those dear family members near.

Do you have a family item that calls to mind your ancestors? If so, did you personally know that ancestor? What special memories do you have of them?

Family Recipe Friday - Grandma's Iced Tea

Is there anything more refreshing on a hot summer day than a glass of sweet tea filled with ice?

Grandma's sweet tea was made in a precise manner:

Draw fresh water from the spring [don't use any water that's been sitting out overnight!]

Bring a gallon of water to a boil. [Yes, the entire gallon!] As it comes to a full boil, remove from heat [she used a wood stove!], and immediately add 18 tea bags. Yes, 18!!!

Add 2 cups of ganulated sugar. Yes, two! Stir to allow the sugar to dissolve.

Cover the pot and allow to steep with tea bags for a full 20-30 minutes.

When steeping is complete, remove cover from pot, pour tea into a one gallon glass jar [with  lid available!]. From this you can pour the tea into your glass filled with ice.

Now this is not complete until you grab a chunk of left over cornbread, and sit on the porch swing an enjoy the two together!

Now THAT is a summertime treat you just can't get in no big city! And a pleasure you can't get from candy bars, bags of chips or soda pops!!!

Grandma Bean and I used to sit on the porch and enjoy this every summer! What a wonderful memory I have of that special time together!!!

Thrifty Thursday

Mary Faudree Bean

1897-1975

Circa. 1962

My Grandma Bean had always lived a frugal life. She had raised a family during the Depression and had seen some real struggles just to keep body and soul together.

I remember Grandma saving little scraps of aluminum foil so that they could be reused.

Paper towels were shook out and reused when they had been used for something dry. And if they had only been moistened... they were allowed to air dry and be used again.

Glass jars [such as mayonnaise or pickle jars] were washed thoroughly and kept for canning in later on.

Paper plates were sometimes reused as well, unless so soiled they couldn't be cleaned once again.

Grandma wore white canvas sneakers all the time. In order to keep them spotless, and without causing undue wear and tear from excassive washing, she powdered them daily with Johnson's Baby Powder!

Plastic bags, included bread wrappers, were washed and allowed to air dry. These were reused for left overs, biscuits, and even in freezing foods for later consumption.

Nothing was exempt from her reuse.

Empty medication bottles were used as tiny biscuit and cookie cutters for little grandchildren's hands when helping in the kitchen. I've eaten many a "biscuit cookie" cut with a pill bottle! [ Grandma would make biscuit dough, roll it out thin on the table, and allow me to cut the tiny little biscuits with the medication bottle. She'd then place these on a cookie sheet, and lightly sprinkle them with granulated sugar.] These little "biscuit cookies" were the perfect size for a teaparty with a favorite dolly, or a little sister!

Yes, Grandma was one of the original recyclers! Long before it was ecologically correct, or the "in thing" to do, Grandma was keeping America green!

And I bet your Grandparents were too!

Sentimental Sunday

This photo is of my grandmother, Mary Faudree Bean, holding my Dad in 1938, just about the time he turned one.

Grandma was 40 years old when she gave birth to Dad, her first born. She went on to have two more sons by 1943, [Edsel and Roy].

These three children were the sons of my grandfather's old age. He was 71 when Dad was born, and 77 by the time Roy came along in 1943.

This photo was taken in either Waiteville or Hollywood in Monroe County, West Virginia. [I think it was Waiteville.]

This is one of my favorite shots of my grandmother.

Treasure Chest Thursday - The Promisory Note

This is written on a sheet of notepaper, and is pretty much shown here at actual size! It is a handwritten promisory note between my grandparents, John and Mary Bean and a W.A. Clarkson, in 1938.

This gives me a rare glimpse into the day - to- day struggles that my grandparents went through.

Madness Monday - August 10, 2009

Mary was born on June 3rd 1897. She was one of the younger children in her family [there were ten all total].

Mary had about an eighth grade education. Once she was past 21 her prospects for marriage looked slim. She was a rather tall woman, and a bit hefty in size. So, she learned sign language and began teaching the deaf.

At the age of 38 she became a housekeeper for a widower. He married her a short time later.

John was born in 1866, so he was quite a bit older than Mary. As a matter of fact, his eldest daughter, Rita, was born the year before Mary had been born. John already had been the father of 12 children, by 2 wives who had predeceased him. Those children, all grown except for one, did not call her step-mother. Instead, they chose to call her "Aunt Mary". If Mary felt slighted by the fact, she never let on about it.

In 1937, at the age of 40, Mary became a mother for the first time. A baby boy. Then in 1939, at 42, she had another son. And in 1943, at the age of 46, Mary had a third son. By then John was 77 years old.

In 1946, the youngest child, Roy, developed appendicitis. The family lived in a very rural farm area. By the time they realized a doctor must be sought, Roy's appendix had burst and he died just 2 days later in the hospital. I have been told that John never got over the death of Roy. I know for a fact that Mary didn't. She never spoke about him without her eyes welling with tears.

In 1954, at the age of 88 John passed away, leaving Mary a widow with 2 teenaged sons.

Mary remained in the home John had purchased for her until 1965 when she went to live with her oldest son and his family. It was here that Mary sometimes spoke to me about her past.

It was so funny to hear her tell about giving birth to her sons: "The doctor put me on a table with a round hole cut out of it in the center. A galvanized bucket was hung under the hole, and it caught the baby when it was borned." [Mary's babies were all born at home. So, there was no such contraption.]

I never heard her call John anything except "Mr. Bean". I suppose his being 31 years her senior, she felt she should show him respect. I've asked Mary's eldest son if she ever called his father anything except, Mr. Bean. His response was that she most often called him "Dad" or "Daddy".

I remember Mary telling about a time when John cut her hair. "He shingled it for me. His scissors slipped and he just about cut my ear off! It bled and bled and bled!" Her eldest son confirmed this story. He said the tip of her ear was cut badly, and John like to never have got the bleeding stopped!

Mary told about the time when her oldest was once dressed in a lovely white sailor suit, and the family was preparing to go out. She couldn't find him, and went looking about the farm for him. In his lovely white sailor suit he had waded in the mucky pond nearby. The suit would never come white again. It was the first "whippin'" he remembered getting.

Mary's mind began slipping even before she went to live with her son. They didn't call it Alzheimer's back then. It was politely called "hardening of the arteries".

I remember Mary smelling strongly of lilac bath powder, which she used to powder her white sneakers to keep them always looking clean, and smelling fresh. Her hair was thin, and she wore tiny pin curls about the edges to frame her face.

Mary had been diagnosed with tuberculosis when a young woman, and had spent time in a sanitorium for recuperation. The family had to sterilize their dishes with each and every wash every single day afterward. They routinely had TB tine tests and chest x-rays.

In 1973 the family moved back to Mary's home state in West Virginia. I think she sometimes realized she was there. But for the most part, Mary would sit for hours by herself. Just sitting. Neither doing anything, nor wishing to.

Mary became very withdrawn. And had to be reminded to eat.

In the fall of 1974, it was evident Mary was failing. She became nothing more than skin stretched over bone. Her color went to a sickly gray. And her flesh would fall away when bumped.

On her deathbed, in the hospital, Mary recognized her eldest son, and her youngest granddaughter. She knew no one else.

Mary slipped quietly away on January 1st 1975.

The saddest moment of my life was when her son watched the hearse carrying her body pass by the house on the way to the church for her funeral. I've known him my whole life, and I never knew his heart to break like that. His sobs tore through me like nothing else ever has.

At the cemetery, as they layed her body in the grave, I fell into the arms of one of the women from our church. I sobbed, echoing those of her son.

You see, Mary wasn't mad. She had her moments of eccentricity. Remember, they called it "hardening of the arteries".

No, Mary wasn't mad. She was Mary.

My grandmother.

"Undertaker, undertaker, oh undertaker please drive slow, For this lady you are carrying, Oh I hate to see her go!" [Will the Circle Be Unbroken - lyrics by The Stanley Brothers].