Maeburl Tincher
Big families were a way of life and the main social hub of the builder generation. Shaped by The Great Depression and World War II, they took life very seriously and took very good care of what they had.
Older children helping to care for younger ones was also way of life. While mom and dad lead the way in major parental roles, older siblings were expected to step up and contribute to the functioning of the family system.
My surrogate, part-time mom, full-time sister and forever best friend was none other than the dutiful Cornea. She was only eight when I was born into our brood of nine and I was not an easy child to care for. Nevertheless, she stuck with me.
Dressing nice was expected. Even on modest means, we managed to be well outfitted and Cornea took the dress code seriously. Anytime we were going out into the community for school, church or shopping, she would roll my hair the night before.
Later in life, she met and married a World War II combat veteran named Carl. He was a handsome young man who had been severely wounded in service, but still worked and provided well for his family.
On one occasion, he bought her a very nice Bulova watch. Back then – in school – even a stretchy band bracelet put you in the upper echelon of high society around here. So I felt every privileged when she agreed to let me wear her special watch.
The time piece was encased in gold. The band consisted of two black rope cords. The cords were accented with a gold ring on each side and an adjustable gold clasp in the back.
One day – after purchasing a five cent Moon Pie and RC Cola – my friend and I decided to do the jitterbug on a nearby wooden bridge. The bridge was time worn and had small cracks, some of which made the water below visible to the traveler.
Along the way home, I realized the watch the missing. My heart sunk to my toes and instantly knew I was in deep trouble. I didn’t know where I had lost it or where to start looking for it.
In the meantime, I avoided my sister and was trying to muster up the courage to tell her I had lost her beautiful time piece.
About a week or so later while crossing the same bridge, I happened to glance down at just the right time and there it was! Cornea’s watch, safely tucked into one of the cracks that had a solid bottom and the perfect shape – which protected it from the weather and other travelers.
I could not believe it. I jumped up and down and shouted. Thankful to God that I had found it, I took it back to her as fast as I could and never asked to wear it again.
She turns 97 this week and to this day, it matters to her that I am well dressed. When I see her, I can almost hear her say, like momma, “Come here, let me see how you look.”
I don’t think she knows I lost her watch unless she is reading this story, or how grateful I am to have such a wonderful sister.
Maeburl Tincher writes a monthly column for The Graham Star. She is a native of the Jack Branch community.