Marshall McClung
Most are familiar with the phrase “It takes a village to raise a child.”
There wasn’t a village located in the Atoah section of Graham County where I grew up, but there was a community.
All of us kids had several “mothers” scattered throughout Atoah. At one time or another, I was at most of the homes where there were other kids my age.
Several of the homes had large families and the last thing they needed was another child hanging around, but they treated me the same as their children. If I was there at mealtime, I ate what they ate.
I probably spent more time – including overnight stays – at the Bill and Eloise Corbin home than anywhere else. I was good friends with their son Billy. I was there so much that Eloise referred to me as her “other boy.”
Fannie Eller was a close neighbor, and her and my mother was good friends. Mother had two standing rules when she took me with her to visit someone: don’t prowl and don’t ask for something to eat. If I was asked if I wanted anything, it was okay to accept.
My mother and Mrs. Eller usually sat at the dining room table and talked. There was always a plate of biscuits, and either apple or blackberry jelly sitting on the table. I would sit there and look at them, but wouldn’t ask for anything.
Soon, without missing a word of conversation, Mrs. Eller would get up, split a biscuit open and put a gob of jelly on it and hand it to me.
This was carried on into another generation. In later years, Ray and Virginia Eller lived just across the road from Mrs. Eller. Their son Tim was prone to slip off and go visit the “biscuit house.”
Soon, he would be missed and his mother would send Sister Kim over to get him.
Tim would see his sister coming and would say “Fannie she is coming to get me, but before I go, I need a biscuit.”
Other neighborhood mothers included Helen Bridges, where there was also a large family. We reached this home by a trail through the woods. When I was an adult, Mrs. Bridges gave me one of her homemade quilts which I still have. One of the first stories I wrote for The Graham Star was about her.
A photo of her holding the quilt accompanied the story.
Hildred Wiggins was another “mom” where I spent a lot of time with her “all boys” family. Hildred wasn’t above running her boys and me out of the house if we got in her way in the kitchen.
I didn’t realize at the time how blessed I was to have the privilege of growing up with these “mothers” around me and also my own dear mother.
Alas, as the saying goes, “Youth is wasted on the ignorant.”
Marshall McClung is the historical columnist for The Graham Star. He can be reached via email, mcclungs@email.com.