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Mountain Magic with Ann Hite
Mountain Magic with Ann Hite
The Women Are With Us
I am writing this on December 18, 2024 for the New Year edition of the Mountain Magic column. This morning I attended a commencement ceremony for my youngest daughter, Ella. She received a Master of Arts in Teaching, her second master’s degree in a little over three years. A big wet, sloppy sob built in my chest as I stood to honor this hardworking young woman. My daughter had accomplished one of her dreams. The fife band with their bagpipes played the graduates out of the auditorium.
When we found Ella outside, there were lots of hugs and congratulations. Her dad and me were beside ourselves with pride.
“So how do you feel?” I asked this because she had been in school with no break since beginning her bachelor’s degree in 2017.
“I cried when the bagpipes played.” She smiled at her partner, Daniel, who stood by her, and gave him an explanation, “Our ancestors come primarily from Scotland. I thought of the women, the grandmothers, the aunts, throughout our history. I’m the first to achieve this kind of education. They probably never dreamed that in the future I would exist. That I would accomplish what I set out to do. That I would have those opportunities.” Ella’s face lit up with true conviction.
Dear Reader, Ella is twenty-five and not yet so interested in family history. Most of the time that comes to us later in life. So you can imagine how I was speechless with her response. The stories of the women in our past had remained with her. Somehow these strong women had reached forward and made their presence known at that special moment.
The women in my family tree were not traditionally educated. Most didn’t make it past the seventh grade. This was the time, especially in Southern Appalachia, that girls were pulled from school to help out at home. This happened to many of the boys too, but if one of the children could remain in school the choice was mostly the male. My great, great grandmothers were strong women who saw their husbands off to war and kept the gaggle of children they had alive and somewhat safe. They ran the farms and did the ‘men’s work’.
My great grandmother, Asalee Hawkins, Granny’s mama, had eight children, one son dying at age two right before Granny was born in 1909. Asalee was a soft-spoken woman, who showed kindness and love toward her children. I have no idea what her dreams were. At the age of nineteen, in 1875, She married my great grandfather, Henry Lee Hawkins at Friendship Baptist Church. Her family, The Redds, were well-off in the county and were successful farmers, who owned their land. Asalee died after being pushed out of their Model-T by Henry Lee while going down the road. On her lap she held their youngest daughter, Mary, age: six months. Both Asalee and Mary seemed to be okay after the incident. According to Granny, who was six, Asalee’s whole head turned black during the night, and she became unresponsive. She died before the end of the next day. Years later Granny would find out Asalee had incurred a cracked skull from being pushed out of the Model-T.
Granny attended school until she finished the fifth grade when Henry Lee was run out of town by the burning of his house. He had married a young woman two weeks after Asalee’s death. While the community understood he had been seeing this woman before he pushed Asalee out of the Model-T, he was not arrested for the crime. After all, he would never serve time for a domestic dispute. But the community would have their say. They slowly punished him. First the men he hired to pick his cotton no longer would work. He was forced to put his children in the fields. Mostly he was shunned for his deed and not welcome at church any longer. His crops were not wanted. Finally three years after Asalee’s death, the farmhouse was burned to the ground while the family picked cotton in the fields. Not one neighbor came to help put the fire out. One of the sons, Ernest, took the family to a new farm some twenty-five miles south, where he ran shine for a prominent moonshiner. Granny never returned to school.
This did not stop her from having dreams. She married my grandfather when she was fifteen. They set up house close to the family farm. When her youngest of two children died at the age of two, my grandfather ‘lost his mind’ and began to drink. One night he beat Granny beyond recognition, while my mother watched. Granny’s brother, Ernest, tied my grandfather between two trees and beat him with the intention of killing him. If not for Ernest’s wife stopping her husband, Grandfather would have died. He was banished from the county and forbade to return. He died a couple years later without being around my mother again.
Granny decided that the only way to make a new life for herself and my mother was to leave Appalachia. The story goes that she took out walking with my five-year-old mother. They were headed for a city, Atlanta, to find work. Her sister had found employment in a tile factory there. This was the Great Depression, so chances were she wouldn’t find a job, but there was no stopping her. On the second day of walking, a man in a dump truck drove past her on the road, turned around, and the rest is history. Of course, there is much more to this story, but that is in one of my books. The man, Arthur, helped her find a job at Bell Bomber Plant in Marrietta after WWII began. The men had gone off to war and women were sought out to fill positions. Granny got the job, making more money than she could ever dream of and talked Arthur into buying her a house. As a woman, she was not allowed to buy a house. A man had to do it for her. Because Arthur was married, Granny was afraid at some point the wife would come along and force her out of her own home. It was her money that was used for the downpayment and all the payments made after. Granny paid a payment each week out of her check. In two years she paid off the house and Arthur signed the deed over into her name.
Granny taught herself how to read better by reading classic books. When I came to live with her at the age of nine in 1966, she handed me a copy of “Jane Eyre” and encouraged me to read it, which I did. She used my mother’s schoolbooks from high school to teach herself math. When the war ended and the soldiers came home, the women were fired from Bell Bomber. Granny went to work for Rich’s Department Store, where she eventually became department head. No one had any idea she had a fifth grade education.
When I came to live with Granny, she had succeeded in most of her dreams. She held education in high esteem and made sure that both my brother and I understood what was expected of us.
In Appalachia folks believe that those passed on can see just what we are up to down here on earth. Folks say that is just plain out mountain magic. Granny must be looking down and smiling at this great granddaughter that she didn’t live long enough to meet. This girl had accomplished what she wanted for herself and even more. Asalee and her mother must be right there with Granny and Mama looking on at this event, smiling the whole time. Acknowledging sometimes the wait is longer than one thinks it should be, but the dream can be realized.
Sometimes mountain magic just settles down deep in our souls and moves through those closest to us. There is always hope. In 2025, keep believing in your dreams. Watch for them. Who knows what form they will take. Pay attention so you don’t miss a second. And celebrate when you recognize them come to fruition.
Happy New Year!
Ann
