I just want to tell you how much I enjoyed reading your Eulogy
to Mrs. Jenkins.  In my opinion, it was one of your best written
articles ever penned on the internet.  I could so strongly sense
that your tribute was straight from your heart.  I am sure her
kids greatly appreciated your written memories of both their
mom and dad.  An automobile accident is a tragic way to lose a
loved one.  It is so natural and human to ask, "Why did life
have to end like this?"  A Believer in Christ just has to have faith
in knowing that God knew what he was doing.  I am certain
that God will answer all our questions When We All Get To
Heaven.

Every neighborhood had that second mother in the '50s & '60s. 
Hilliary Clinton was so right when she said, "It takes a village to
raise a child."  With three children, Mrs. Jenkins certainly had
enough experience to guide the Bailey Boys no matter how
tough that assignment may have seemed.  I speak from
experience since I was the oldest of three boys.  All boys just
bring a different challenge to the parent profession.  Flora
Ussery was the second mother in my neighborhood.  She was
the mother of Martha, Pete, Robert Lee a.k.a. Pistol, Phyllis,
Joe, Ed, Mike, Jimmy, Nancy, and Henry a. k. a. Bo.  Anytime a
visitor crawled into the Ussery station wagon, jumped into
their small pond, ate a meal at their table, or crawled between
the sheets in the Lion's Den (a name their dad Bill fondly but
deservingly used in referring to the boy's bedroom), he was
most likely to find another neighborhood kid or two in the mix
of the Usserys.  When most mothers felt guilty about burdening
Flora with the responsibility of another child, Flora's comeback
line was "With three girls and seven boys, what's one or two
more younguns going to matter?  Let them come.  They'll have
fun!"  Your ode to Mrs. Jenkins leads me to believe she was of
the same mind-set. 

I did not know the Jenkins kids as well as I would like to have
known them.  I remembered Woody as a school bus driver
when we were classmates at dear 'ole Rockingham High.  I was
always amazed that teenagers could drive something that large.
Little did I imagine when I stepped onto bus #8 in September,
1954 that I would be a school bus driver in January, 1964, my
sophomore year of high school.  It is wonderful that Woody
still finds time to hunt.  Hunting is a sport that I miss but a
sport that I just have no time for with my present lifestyle. 
Besides it just would not be the same hunting opossum, coon,
and squirrel without Zeke, my childhood wonder dog.

Jenny Sue was a different story.  I never had any classes with
Jenny Sue until the 11th grade.  Jenny Sue and I sat at the same
table in the easiest course in high school: homeroom.  Yes, I
said we shared a"table."  I cannot remember if it was a biology
lag or a science room.  For whatever high school function and
requirement, we sat side-by-side at a "table."  We
jibber-jabbered, passed notes, whispered in each other's ear, or
used any other commutation vehicle possible to catch up with
the latest high school gossip before first period.  She never
mentioned that she rode to school with you.  Of course, I never
named all the classmates riding to school with me on bus #8
when I was whispering in her ear.  Jenny Sue, what a pretty
name!  It is so Southern.  Do parents still name and call their
children by their first and middle name combinations?  We had
a few in our '66 class: Bobbie Ruth Goodman, Bobbie Sue
Chappell, ...  There has to be more.  Wasn't Eva Haywood  aka
Eva Kay Haywood?  If not, she should be known by first and
middle name combination.  "Eva Kay" just rolls off the end of
your tongue so easily.  Just repeat, "Eva Kay, Eva Kay, Eva Kay,
...  See what I mean?  The Southern male just uses his first and
middle name initials, example:  '66 classmate J.A. Bolton, high
school principal J.C. Mulkey, Agriculture Instructor Emeritus
R.L. Souther, City School Board member J.E. Honeycutt, and
talk about parents being totally infatuated with the initial fad:
what about Chairman of the City School Board, J.W.C.
Entwistle?

Jerry seems so visible but I just cannot recall him.  What year
did he graduate from RHS? (1970) I am sure he was a good
friend.  Every neighborhood gang has one member who wants
to get off the porch and run with the big dogs in spite of his
young age. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The following email exchanges took place before the actual Reply To
A Eulogy above: Bob made the suggestion that I include these
because others could probably relate to the different experiences we had

and therefore maybe inspire someone to jot down their memories and send

them along.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
From: Joel Bailey
To: Bob McDonald
Date: Tues, Feb 19, 2008 215pm
Subject: Re The Death of Mrs Lib Jenkins


Thanks Bob for the response to Mrs. Jenkins eulogy. I would love to

add it to your collection of memories, maybe as a Response to a Eulogy.

Let me know what you think about that. And I did go back and make

some corrections on the eulogy – thanks for bringing that to my attention.

Jerry Jenkins graduated in ’70, a little younger than us but still a good

childhood friend. He and my younger brother Keith had more in common

but we all played ball, etc. in the neighborhood. 

I’m like you I guess, when we were young we hunted quite often but
that somehow got lost in the ages of growing older and now I don’t
know if I could even shoot at a squirrel or rabbit as I did during that
time. But it amazes me sometime when I think about these things. I
remember we raised hogs as a child and many times dad and some of
his buddies would come over and get one of the hogs from the old hog
pen from behind the house and take a gun and shoot it and then take
the knife and do the necessary. And like my grandma Heavner would
come over and take a chicken or two from the backyard and ring its
neck. But all of this was done out of necessity and not sport. I just don’t

think I could do that now. I’m just glad we had parents that did all these

unpleasant tasks that I couldn’t do today. Times surely change, don’t they?

You talk about names. My dad’s name was Hamby Asbury Bailey and
needless to say, he preferred people calling him H.A. instead of either
of his names. I can understand that I guess – neither of those names
was particularly commonplace. And most of his brothers went by
their initials – D.B., J.A. and so on. Dad gave me his first name as my
middle but I just could not bring myself to naming my son Hamby –
so he got the honor of getting Joel as his first name. And, in turn, he
gave that name, Joel, to each of his three sons. Maybe one day down
the line through the Bailey family tree,  the name of Hamby or maybe
even Asbury will show back up.

Well, it was good to hear from you Bob. How is the book coming
along? You still working on it?


Take care

Joel

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


From: Bob McDonald
To: Joel Bailey
Date: Tues, Feb 19, 2008 1132pm
Subject: Re: The Death of Mrs Lib Jenkins



Joel,

I have no problem with you posting my emails.  Hopefully, it will
cause some of our friends to post their memories.  My wife Sally
always takes some time to jot down her memories of a special time or
situation with a departed love one and sends that note to the most
close one left behind.  She always gets a "Thank You" note.  It sounds
like Mrs. Jenkins treasured the letter you sent her about her
husband.  That kind of response makes your time and efforts
worthwhile.  I speak from experience.  Tommy Covington's daughter
sent me a very sincere appreciation note after I wrote the story about
her dad on your website.  Thanks for making that tool available.

Now I know why I never knew Jerry.  He arrived at RHS the year after
we left.  As I wrote in the last email every gang has a young kid.  I saw
Junior English (RHS '72), the young kid of the Foxport Gang, the last
time I was in Rockingham.  He reminded me that I hired him at
Kenville, a textile plant in Anson County.  It was the first job he
received a pay stub.

We also raised hogs and chickens, too.  Hog killings was always an
event.  Daddy would grab a chicken and wring his neck, too but
Mama would lay a chicken's neck across a 2X4, step on it, grab the
chicken by the legs, and pull upward toward the sky with all her
might until the head separated from the body.  It was quite a
spectacular sight!  Times certainly do change.  I cannot see myself
going through those rituals again.  Yet, I am glad to have lived
through those experiences.  It is a tie to the first McDonalds that
arrived in Richmond County in the 1770s.  How many ways can you
kill a chicken?   

Naming all the Baileys "Joel" is quite clever.  A misdeed or a regretful
quote can always be blamed on the other "Joel."  A great idea, that's
the Joel Bailey that I've grown to know and love.

I have joined a writers' guild in Fayetteville.  We meet once-a-month. 
One can read his writing either/or/and for the group to enjoy and/or
critique.  I have only attended one meeting.  I was flattered when I
read two chapters about Zeke and received a round of applause. 
Maybe I can pick up on some hints on how to get published.  In the
meanwhile, I have written little.  Life is just too busy and hectic to
take the time.  My oldest just moved to Winston-Salem, my middle
daughter just received an acceptance letter to NC State, and my
youngest just made the girl's freshman & JV teams.  Sally and I spent
last weekend on our first visit to W-S.  My middle d. wants me to carry
her to Raleigh, and today, I carried my baby to sign-up for a third ball
team (recreation ball).  Life in the fast lane at McDonalds leaves little
time for creative writing.  I just made time to write you.  Keep up the
good work!


Bob