SEASON of HOPE

1944 . . . a time of change . . . women filling the gap in traditional men’s jobs . . . a newspaper for 3¢ . . . USO clubs . . . quick weddings . . . back to the war . . . meatless days . . . rationing . . . recycling tires for the rubber . . . big bands, jitterbug, and swing music . . . housing growth and baby booms! Things were changing, all right! My tiny gray-headed grandmother joined the Army Corps, and it wasn’t just a lark to get out of the house! She signed up at the end of 1943, in the midst of World War II, two months before turning fifty, which was the cut off age for new WACs. To have a “trade” that would make her useful in wartime, she learned the art of magic and became “Granny, the Magician,” entertaining the troops around the globe. She earned the rank of SFC and the friendship of the top brass at the Pentagon before she retired with 100 percent medical disability. She served her country for sixteen years and loved every minute of it. Meeting my grandmother was very untraditional and hard to do since I was born on April 30, 1944, just after she left to see the world! My parents, Roy and Viola Miller, met while students at North Georgia College in Dahlonega, Georgia. Daddy, a musician of sorts, lived in the band barracks as a student. He played the baritone horn, a silver beauty with an upright bell, purchased second hand in 1932 while attending Russell High School in East Point, Georgia. A shortage of tuba players in the college band resulted in a change of instruments for Dad, and the baritone was packed away, enduring several long-distance moves and the heat of dusty Southern attics until Daddy pulled it out of hiding twenty-five years later. That is when it became my horn, then my brother’s, and finally my three daughters’ instrument. Fifty years of service to six players spanning three generations—band and the baritone were memories that connected us all.  Mama was a home economics major and lived in the women’s dormitory across the parade grounds from the band barracks. She knew her calling. She was a fine seamstress and loved to tackle almost any type of handcraft and could cook almost anything—except biscuits! Not even Bisquick could help. Her specialty was Wesson oil biscuits, a thin cracker-type bread that needed no butter! The oil actually gave them a unique flavor!  I don’t know how long it took Daddy to notice Ms. Harris, but he always did benefit from a challenge! The band cadets were having a picnic, and there was a scramble for dates. “Miller, do you have a date yet?” called out a fellow band member. “I think Viola Harris is still available, and I’m on my way to ask her to be my date.” And off he went toward the dorm. Not to be outdone, and primarily because Viola was a great catch, Roy used his head, and started running for the women’s dorm—only he took all the shortcuts and beat his friend there. By the time his friend reached the women’s dorm, Roy was standing there, grinning his winner’s smile—and the way my folks told the story, that is why my name isn’t Beverly Thibodaux. Second place isn’t good enough—in horseshoe or foot races! However, the loser was the best man at their wedding on June 14, 1941. In fact, every June 14, as regular as clockwork, every town in America flies the flag proudly honoring their wedding anniversary! At least, that is what my brother and I were always told! Of course, being Flag Day didn’t hurt! Dad never had an excuse for forgetting their anniversary (and as of 2013, they have celebrated seventy-two anniversaries!) They set up housekeeping in an upstairs garage apartment, next door to my grandpa’s house, but didn’t stay in those quarters very long. Daddy wanted to be a preacher. ACC (Atlanta Christian College) was about a mile away, and when space was available in Stone Cottage, they moved on campus. Just because this “reads” like big campus housing, think again! The original campus was near the present-day East Point. The old existing farmhouse served many purposes for campus life: offices, classrooms, kitchen and dining room, as well as dormitory space. Being on a small farm, the students raised most of their own food and milked cows for cooking and their milk to drink. Stone Cottage was a cinder block building on campus, square in shape, with four rooms in the lower level and four rooms above. It had been built by student labor, which probably explains why the interior walls had not been joined! Eight married couples called this home, complete with lack of privacy—just one big happy family. Many graduates, like my parents, encouraged their children to attend ACC, and the college grew as a result. I was the first third-generation student but was far from being the last. The college has grown and has moved to West Point, Georgia. It is now Point University with campus buildings in both West Point and Valley, Alabama. As well as the original East Point campus used for Continuing Education students.  After graduating, Mama and Daddy, being two of the eight students in the second graduating class, accepted a call to minister to the church in Riverview, Alabama. In 1980, the area of mill communities—formerly known separately as Langdale, Fairfax, Shawmutt, and Riverview—consolidated to become Valley, Alabama. I don’t have my own memories of when we lived there, but I recall summer vacation times when my grandpa was their minister. I do have memories of visiting my grandparents when they lived in the same parsonage my parents had lived in when I was a baby. You may not be familiar with the term “parsonage,” but it refers to the house owned by the church but furnished to the preacher and his family as their home. In some cases, the parsonage was partially or completely furnished by the church. Those furnishings were sometimes “gifts” to the church, consisting of someone else’s extra furnishings that were not needed or not wanted by the giver. Unfortunately, one of the fringe questionable benefits of this system was the feeling of “ownership” by the church members where the parsonage was used for meetings and even the powder room between services. My mom never complained about the intrusion of this system, but she was ecstatic when she and Dad finally bought their own home. 