Best of the North Georgia Mountains Issue 32

Th’ Buryin’ Woman

Most folks were mortally afraid to deal with the bodies of their loved ones, once they had passed on over. Much mystery and superstition surrounded that final act of living. That was when they called for Miz Minnie. But just what evil thing lurked in the little black bag she was so protective of?

Her cabin sat way back off the narrow, rocky foot path that circled the rim of the mountains, high in the North Georgia hills. Anyone who bothered to look closely could see the faint outline of what had once been a wagon trail leading to her door.

But no more.

Hardly anyone went in and out any longer. The tall broom grass and the pine saplings had slowly taken over, but it wasn’t just the physical obstacles that barred visitors. No indeed, it was something much greater than a little undergrowth.

By JOHN SHIVERS

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“What is there more kindly than the feeling between host and guest?” - Aeschylus

But if someone was desperate enough to maneuver his way through the knee-deep ruts and across the dying trees that still lay where they’d fallen, he’d finally stumble across Miz Minnie’s small log cabin.

Few were that desperate.

Except on occasion.

In the winter, when the leaves of the tall tulip poplars surrounding the house had dropped and blown away on the icy December winds, the trek was easiest.

Just like the overgrown trail leading to its door, the cabin itself proclaimed many years of neglect. There was a gofunny list to one side, where the massive sill fashioned so many years before had rotted away.

The wall beneath the hand-hewn beam had, over time, slowly drooped,

echoing the depressing countenance of the little log house itself.

Moss and tangles of ivy fought for toeholds where the chinking had fallen out from between the logs.

The roof showed clear evidence that whenever a spring freshet pounded down on the little mountain community, Miz Minnie got about as wet inside, as she would have standing bareheaded outside.

Folks ’round about those parts said it was because she didn’t have no man to look after such things.

And the reason she didn’t have no man, common gossip affirmed, was because there wasn’t no man for miles around crazy enough for a wife to tangle with Miz Minnie.

You see, she was what they called “th’

buryin’ woman.”

Because she handled death, people feared her. Those still safely on this side of that great unknown were just plain scared. Growed men that could hold still to have a bullet dug out of their gut with nothing to deaden the pain quaked in their boots whenever they crossed paths with the little woman.

There weren’t any undertakers way back in those hills. When folks died, as often they did, what with poor diets, viral illness and fighting – mostly fighting – families had to take care of all the arrangements themselves.

Which presented a problem.

Much mystery and superstition surrounded that final act of living. Most folks were mortally afraid to deal with the bodies of their loved ones, once

“Be at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let every new year find you a better man.” - Benjamin Franklin

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mama, she did,” Malcom would tell his friends and neighbors.

When it came time for Miz Minnie to leave, Malcom, he said he felt kind of obliged to tote her home. Seeing as how she had done such a good job and all.

“That’s when I picked up her satchel for her, and she snatched it back quick as a jagged slash of storm lightning.”

Now Malcom, he didn’t think that much about it at the time, but after he heard Sister Chloe’s account, his curiosity got raised up.

Just what did Miz Minnie carry in that little black bag of hers that was so precious? Or was it dangerous?

He finally had to admit he didn’t have the first idea. Before long, practically everybody in the hills had contributed their own suspicions about the buryin’ woman’s satchel. There wasn’t a man, woman or child who didn’t find a new reason to fear Miz Minnie.

But what were they going to do? They were afraid to associate with her, but they feared even more having to prepare their own dead for burial. The matter was a subject of conversation over the next few days.

Whenever neighbor encountered neighbor, the question was always there, always the same: “What we gonna do ’bout Miz Minnie?” At the same time, the subject of their rabid dialogues stayed home, away from everyone, as she normally did, unaware that she was the major talk in the community.

After all, no one had died.

Yet. But she – and her neighbors – knew; it was just a matter of time before some hot-tempered young man got liquored-up of a Saturday night and shot a friend or relative.

Something had to be done.

Quick.

Finally, a few of the men got together and devised a plan.

They would wait until the dark of the moon, and one of them would knock on Miz Minnie’s door to report a death. They knew she would soon be on her way to do her job, and that’s when they could make their move.

Half of them would hide in the night darkness and when she was far enough from home, they’d jump out and grab her satchel. The other half of the men would go to Miz Minnie’s house and go inside.

After all, they reasoned, if what she had in that bag was that powerful, who knew what was in her house. They owed it to themselves to find out and protect their families. Nobody in the hills ever locked their doors, so getting inside wouldn’t be a problem.

You’re alive as long as someone remembers you After you die you remain alive in the memories of those who knew you. But that is as close to immortality as most of us get.

The ancient Hebrews had a partial solution for that problem: write down the stories of their people. In doing genealogy research on my family I discovered a long list of names and dates but what most interested me were the stories I uncovered about my ancestors.

For instance, one of my great and great grandfathers was killed with a pistol that used minnie balls long after the Civil War in a dispute over land. One of my cousins still has the minnie ball. But the details are very sketchy. I found myself wanting to know the particulars of this and other stories I found.

But there was not much I could do about the details that were lost. I could, however, do something about the present, and I began collecting stories about my near relatives, children, and grandchildren. They don't mean a lot now, but their value will grow in future generations. And some of them are quite funny.

For instance, just over 40 years ago when my oldest son was 3, he got up one cold winter morning just after daylight and crawled into bed with us. He nestled in between us for a short time but then stood up and looked out the window.

It had snowed during the night. It was not a heavy snow but enough to cause a panic on the interstates around Atlanta, which is basically any snow at all. My son, who had never seen snow, turned to us and said, "It's not nice to fool Mother Nature."

Now some of you may not be old enough to remember the Chiffon margarine commercial that featured that tag line, but if you are you may have burst out laughing or at least chuckled.

A few years later, he was standing in the back seat of an old Dodge station wagon full of kids as I was backing that big boat up in a parking lot on Lake Allatoona.

The lot was nearly full, so there was a limited margin for error. My oldest son was talking a mile a minute as only someone who has recently learned to speak will do. As I backed the car up he turned and looked out the back window. Without missing a beat in his ongoing monologue, he said, "There is a car back there and God Almighty daddy don't you hit it!"

When my youngest son was in kindergarten, one day the teacher was trying to teach the children the difference between right and left. The teacher went to each child and asked them to hold up their right hand.

My son is a lefty so when he was asked to hold up his right hand he held up his left.

The teacher, who was great, said, "I don't think that is right."

My son replied, "Well it was close, wasn't it?"

His class was also asked to come up with a recipe for something to eat. His was for toast. It consisted of the following: 1. Get some bread.

2. Put it in the oven.

3. Then you eat it.

By Ted Smith

Marion T. "Ted" Smith is the author of a new book, “Life in the Park: A Novel.” It is available on Amazon and at Barnes & Noble.

In the ’70s, I became friends with the guy who ran the Martin Theater in Calhoun. On Saturdays, he would let me and the kids in by the side door and we would sit in the balcony for free. This particular day, the movie was The Jungle Book.

There is a scene in the film where the bear, Baloo, appears to die. It was during this scene when I looked down and saw my daughter, who was about 5 at the time, crying.

“It’s OK, baby,” I said, “Don’t worry.”

She kept crying.

“It’s OK. It will all be all right, just watch.”

She kept crying undaunted.

“It will be all right. Just wait and see.”

Finally, in a small, trembling voice, she said, “I gotta go to the bathroom.”

I have many such stories, but I will end with this one about two of my grandchildren.

One of my grandsons, who was 5 at the time and as is typical of children at that age had an imperial streak. One day he came into the living room and barked an order to his sister who was 10 years his senior: “Get me something to drink!”

She refused and said he couldn’t talk to her that way. She said he had to learn to ask her nicely.

Their mother chimed in, “You will get more flies with honey than you will with vinegar.”

He stormed into the kitchen and fetched a near empty plastic honey bear. He returned to the living room, whereupon he threw the bottle at his sister, hitting her in the head, and said, “Now, get me some tea!”

Both females nearly doubled over in laughter.

Once some years ago as I was leaving my position as an editor of a small weekly in South Georgia, I went around the county and took photographs of streets and buildings which I published in the newspaper.

I wrote at the time that current readers might not appreciate the photos but that future generations would find them more and more valuable over time.

The same can be said for the people in your life right now. Do video recordings of your relatives, especially the old ones and write down all the stories you have heard. Your grandchildren and their grandchildren will appreciate it, believe me.

“Tomorrow, is the first blank page of a 365 page book. Write a good one.” - Brad Paisley

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remember this, but my folks “made do” as they said back in those early Depression days.

I am told that Daddy taught my mother to drive in this car, and that, of all things, let me practice with her in the yard. Yes, I am still here to tell you of other past vehicles that I remember.

When Daddy first was called back to work after the Depression, for years he always bought the car that his boss was trading in on a new one. Of course, to us it was a new car, and it certainly had no wear and tear.

One day Daddy came driving home in one of those cars when I was about 4 or 5 years old. This was so exciting to the whole neighborhood. Of course, I wanted to play in it and pretend I was actually driving. I could not see over the steering wheel, but I must have driven a hundred miles when suddenly I thought I had had a wreck!

All of a sudden, the car began to shake up and down, and this scared me half to death because I thought I had done something to cause it. When the shaking finally stopped, I jumped out as quickly as I could because I knew I would be in trouble with Daddy.

To my surprise, I saw my good buddy and big ol’ heavy jolly neighbor just dying laughing behind the car on the sidewalk!

When I finally realize that he was the one causing all this problem, I suddenly lost my cool. I remember crying and calling him all sorts of bad things that I had never heard of before. It took me awhile before I wanted to drive Daddy’s new car again.

Actually because of where we lived, I remember the big trains that passed in front of our house every day. Mama said where we lived was not a good place to raise children for behind our house was the river, in front a main street, and just above the

street was the railroad.

Every day we had several passenger trains coming in and out of town, as this was the main mode of distant transportation then. Not only did I imagine myself riding the train, but we also had freight trains from the company and other places chugging along.

It was nothing to hear train whistles blowing anytime day and night, and we all remember the one coming in at 12 noon on Sunday just as the preacher was supposed to quit preaching!

The wholesale grocery just above our house got their merchandise from the train.

A whole boxcar was derailed to another track right in front of their store. You think this was not entertainment for a little kid?

Mama told me never to go across the narrow bridgeway that went high over the street from the boxcar to the wholesale.

Guess what? One day I could stand it no

“Life has no remote , so wake up and change it.” - Sushil Singh

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longer and when no one was around, I slipped off just a very short ways up the street and actually went across the bridge (another mode of transportation).

Upon getting there with my excitement, I suddenly figured out I would have to walk back across it right over the street. No, I never tried that again! And, yes, I’m still here.

Well, I actually got closer to trains than the boxcar. My aunt worked for the Western Union, and sometimes I walked with her across the narrow street for her to take a handful of mail to the train which was closer than the post office.

This was raised up to the window of the engineer, who always greeted my aunt by name, which certainly impressed this little one. This train exhibited in large letters the initials of “L&N,” which I later learned stood for Louisville and Nashville.

This was not the only train that came

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through, and eventually I learned what all the abbreviations represented. Wow, was I learning about trains!

Passengers would get off the train at the passenger depot in Copperhill and go to the hotel across the street. They would either be going to stay there or would just go in to eat a fabulous meal. Both the depot and hotel have through the years been demolished, along with most train transportation, which is the end of another era.

Back then, people thought nothing of black smoke nor soot being all around. This was part of life in Copperhill-McCaysville.

The Tennessee Copper Co., which also used trains to transport and receive, made their share of a smoky environment with their industrial work.

At one time this company employed upwards of 3,000 people. Imagine the people, traffic, trains, trucks, and other transportation going through this little town.

Now, don’t think this kid would never get to ride on a train! I did! My grandmother lived at the time in Turtletown a fairly short distance away, yet to a child a long ride on the train. My folks thought nothing of putting me on the train, giving them my destination. At this time I was big enough to actually know when to get off for I could see my uncle standing there waiting for me.

I was so impressed with the massiveness of the interior with its huge leather seats, covered with a clean cloth over the back.

The engineer or conductor would come by from time to time dressed in their black uniforms and actually speak to me. Can you believe I was actually one of their passengers!

The real excitement of these trips was that when I went to Etowah to a cousin’s house, you were taken over the loop. This is where from the back of the train you could see the engine going around the

A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step. – Chinese Proverb

mountain.

I’m sure the fare to ride in that day was cheap, but now trains come in with passengers on a sight-seeing trip and they have had to pay quite a bit for the loop on into Copperhill. I didn’t know then that one day this would be a piece of history that I was enjoying, for now all the trains to Copperhill are sight-seeing trips from Blue Ridge and Etowah.

I was probably more familiar with trains than I was with buses, though we had them coming and going back in the day. Downtown Copperhill was the destination or the place to change buses going in another direction.

There was always a bus station, either in the middle of town on main street or on down as you headed out of town. Today you could never imagine a huge Trailways bus having a special parking place in the middle of town. Back in that day, vehicles

were smaller, and like today, we were used to squeezing our way through town.

My Western Union aunt in later years trained workers over the states of Tennessee and Kentucky. Since she didn’t have a car, her mode of transportation was the bus.

I can remember us taking her at times to get on the bus. As a kid, it was so huge, and when I saw the slot which stated the destination, I certainly imagined I was going somewhere. “Asheville” - I thought that was somewhere at the end of the earth!

I actually rode buses when I was about grown, but it was not nearly as exciting as it would have been as a kid.

Most folks remember the big yellow school buses they rode. When I was beginning the second grade, I first had this experience. I had to walk a short distance to the bus stop where the kids gathered.

In my experience, I was the only one

they picked up at this stop. Of course, they did not stop at your house, but only at the bus stops, and that was a little bit scary before daylight.

The buses were not as modern as they are today, but they got you to and from school. One difference I can remember is that we knew to sit quietly on the trip. There was no loud commotion of any kind like you hear of today. I guess we were just glad to have a way to school, and certainly I was enamored with riding this huge bus.

There has to be one more bus tale before we move on. Living a mile and a half at this time out on the Blue Ridge Highway was like living out in the country as far as transportation. Families owned only one car, and transportation at our house was an engineering effort.

Mama would have to take Daddy to work and keep the car until time to pick him up or we could figure out things or simply ride

“Good resolutions are simply checks that men draw on a bank where they have no account.” - Oscar Wilde

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works closely with her clients communicating their needs to develop an individualized plan for each one so that they have the best health and outcome possible.

Her specialties lie in areas such as chronic migraines, frozen shoulder, TMJ, muscular tension, stress reduction, natural pain relief, elimination of fatigue, injury, rehab, prevention, as well as hip and shoulder pain.

Massage therapy has long been a treatment for these problems and many others.

People who prefer natural methods swear by the outcome of their massage therapy regiment.

Massage therapy will be much like going to physical therapy in the way that you cannot just go in one time and expect to be miraculously healed.

If you have an issue that needs to be worked on, it is likely you will need continuing sessions to get to the root of the prob-

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lem and begin healing it. I highly recommend also continuing your sessions after on a prevention timeline and therapy.

As I stated earlier there are many different types of modalities used in massage therapy and one of the ones Mary has mastered and offers is Restorative Decompression Therapy also known as cupping.

You may have seen some of the Olympic athletes talking about the cupping method.

It is a tried and true therapy that can be successful for many different types of issues.

It is often used for things such as cellulite treatments and even a more natural alternative for a facelifting type therapy.

Don’t be fooled and alarmed by the articles you may have read showing the red or purple circle marks left on clients. Many therapies using this method can be done without leaving markings on your body. I encourage you to ask questions and learn

what works best for you.

Mary will also be offering classes in the near future for self help massage and couples massage.

These classes will teach you how to massage yourself or your partner with methods that will be healing and preventative as well.

The class will teach you how to place your body while working on your partner so that you will not injure yourself in the process.

Massage therapy can be part of your everyday life to maintain your health from home if you are interested in taking the classes to learn a safe and effective way to do so.

Mary is located in the Horizon Training Center at 160 North St., Canton, GA 30114.

You can reach her at 770-823-4749 for questions and to book an appointment to begin your massage therapy sessions.

“Genius is 1% inspiration, and 99% perspiration.� - Thomas Edison

We went to see her, and I was so eager that I almost got hit by a truck crossing the road myself.

My mother washed clothes outside with an old ringer washer and had a very big oval washtub for rinsing. On a hot spring day my younger sister and I eagerly anticipated her finishing the wash because then the tub became our swimming pool, or sitting pool actually. We had a great time splashing water everywhere. The only thing I couldn’t figure out was why she made us wear underpants.

It was in this house that I first saw my brother. The red tarpaper house had a porch on the front then. I had told my father, “You can bring that baby home if you name it after Roy Rogers and Dale Evans.” I have no idea how I even knew who they were. We had no television or radio.

Cultural osmosis?

When my father arrived from the hospital, my mother was riding in back holding my brother wrapped up in a blanket. It was early March, but it was a pleasant, sunny day. I vividly remember standing on that now non-existent porch and watching my father open the black car door and her step out cradling him in her arms.

There are places I lived later as a child that are still standing and more that are long gone.

The house where my uncles and I taunted red wasps has been

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gone for decades, along with the large farmhouse my grandfather lived in that everyone called Four Oaks. And while the two adjacent houses we lived in when I was in elementary school still stand, the pasture field where I used to play ball with a neighbor kid is now covered in condominiums.

And the only evidence of the house my aunt and uncle lived in not long after we lived in the red tarpaper house is a drain tile, and that wasn’t even there then.

I mention this one because I fell in love with my elder cousin, 7, there, the first time I ever knew I could feel so good and hurt so bad at the same time. I can still see her smiling face, framed with hair as gold and blinding as the sun, like it was yesterday.

It wasn’t, of course, not yesterday or the day before but thousands of days before, over a half century, and thousands of memories later. They are piled up like musty books in my mental library, and occasionally I pick one up and dust it off.

Not all of them are good books, of course.

Some are tragic, some profound, some still unfinished, and some contain wonderful stories that are still worth re-reading occasionally.

But there is something most special about these in the children’s section if for nothing more than they are the oldest. They are all epic and awe full and filled with such bright and colorful illustrations.

So I was awed once again a few years ago when I remembered the red tarpaper house and went looking for it for the first time since I lived there and actually found it.

It’s worse for wear, missing a few pieces, and mostly used for storage, but it’s still standing. I thought, hey, I get it. It’s a metaphor.

“A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty.” - Winston Churchill

was early since he ate breakfast before daybreak. I got excited when he said we needed to cut a hickory log to make the best bow. We went to the tool shed to get the axe.

Then immediately Papaw started back towards the house and I thought I would die. I asked him where he was going and he responded, “To get a file to sharpen the axe.”

I told Papaw that sharpening the axe was going to waste too much time.

His response was, “Sharpening your tools is never a waste of time.” Sure enough, 30 minutes after we entered the woods Papaw had cut and split a small hickory tree. When we returned to the workshop he started to work with his sharp drawing knife.

Two hours later I was the proud owner of a five-foot bow that would send an arrow over 100 yards. I thought I was “Robin Hood” of the North Georgia mountains.

For many years I only used this “sage” advice on my hand tools. Then I realized that listening was also a tool. So are goal setting, team building and salesmanship.

When I learned about alternative choices, I thought I’d found the coolest tool around. “Sir, would you like an appointment on Monday or Thursday? Morning or afternoon?” No was not an option.

I decided to try this new tool on the toughest nut possible, my 5-year-old son, Michael. That night after dinner I asked him, “Michael, do you want to take a shower or a bath?” He answered, “Bath.” “Do you want it before this television show or after?” “Before.” Then he ran upstairs to the bathroom.

I asked my wife what she’d done with my real son. She was just as shocked as I was. I knew I now had a razor sharp tool.

Pat’s Law # 1: Sharpening your tools is never a waste of time.

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“If I had eight hours to chop down a tree I would spend six hours sharpening my axe.” - Abraham Lincoln

and dry sheets / blankets).

It is important that extreme caution and gentle care are used when taking these steps, because sudden rewarming or sudden movement can cause a life-threatening heart rhythm of ventricular fibrillation for the hypothermic person. (http://emergency.cdc. gov/disasters/winter/staysafe/hypothermia. asp) Your home is the next place to prepare for the potential frosty weather coming to our community over the next several months.

It is helpful to take a quick inventory to see what items you have in preparation for the freeze. Here are some inventory suggestions: source of drinking water; multiple blankets; extra pet food; non-perishable food items (freeze dried foods, energy bars, canned food items); light source (wind up flashlights, head lamps, flashlights, extra batteries to power them); heat source (extra gas or wood for fireplaces, instant heat packs and always REMEMBER FIRE SAFETY); communication sources (internet, cell phone, TV, NOAA weather radio, wind up radio to hear news when no power is available, wind up cell phone charger or generator to charge cell phone run computer).

Ensure that all these items are in a cen-

tral place in your home where everyone in the family knows their location and they are easy to access.

The next place to prepare is your vehicle.

Many of us spend a great deal of time in our vehicles for shopping, work or a variety of other reasons. We can easily find ourselves caught on the road away in severe conditions or needing to have to make an overnight stay away from home.

It is important to ensure you always have a way to keep your cell phone fully charged when traveling in your vehicle.

It is also helpful to always let a loved one know when you are leaving and your final destination when traveling by car. This can assist fire, EMS and police personnel in locating you in the event your vehicle goes missing.

Please consider creating a car safety kit with these suggested items to better prepare you or your loved ones for safe travels: water bottle with filter, emergency water, high protein snacks, set of jumper cables, portable car jump starter that can jump start car and charge cell phone), duct tape, headlamp, flashlight, extra batteries, waterproof matches, pair of sweat pants or thermal underwear, long sleeve T-shirt, polar fleece jacket, undergarments, wool socks, knit hat, hand warmers, poncho,

towels, regular blanket, emergency blanket, long sleeve T-shirt, extra medications or supplements, disposal medical gloves, first aid kit, toilet paper and toiletries Thank you for taking time to consider your level of readiness for severe winter weather. We wish you a safe winter 2018 and prosperous new year. nChief Rebecca Strobl, founder and president of New Life Solutions International LLC, has been in fire and emergency medical services as a volunteer serving her community for the last decade. She is an EMT-Intermediate, Wilderness EMT, Registered Volunteer Firefighter and American Heart Association CPR / AED / First Aid Instructor. She was elected by her peers to become the first female fire chief in her volunteer fire department's and Cherokee County's history. She possesses more than 14 years of sales, marketing, team building, leadership and motivational speaking experience from her various roles in both corporate America and grassroots volunteerism. She is passionate about helping others learn life-saving skills and encouraging them to follow their dreams. Visit New Life Solutions International today at https:// www.facebook.com/chiefstrobl to learn more about upcoming classes and other exciting opportunities.

“An ounce of action is worth a ton of theory.� - Ralph Waldo Emerson

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“As long as you’re going to be thinking anyway, think big.” - Donald Trump

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Is that snake a?

“Your most unhappy customers are your greatest source of learning.� - Bill Gates

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“A person can succeed at almost anything for which they have unlimited enthusiasm.� - Charles M. Schwab

“I have no special talents. I am only passionately curious.� - Albert Einstein

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