I am probably taking a risk by sharing so many stories from my autobiography on Facebook--who wants to buy a book hes already read? However, it has been a while since Ive shared some of my writing. So, here is an account taken from my baby days that affected my development as a person. I hope you enjoy it. THREE BABY THINGS (Iley Austin) Another well remembered story about my babyhood happened one balmy, Saturday afternoon on the streets of Decaturville when Mother was badly frightened by a longtime friend of her husband, Iley Austin. Decaturville was a small- town, county seat where, perhaps, fifteen hundred people resided on tree-lined, graveled lane within the city limits. The village claimed a special place in our hearts because it was founded around 1850 by a group of businessmen that included Papa’s great-uncle Roland Bennett, brother Kizziah (Kizzie) Bennett, Papas grandmother. The Bennett family owned a plantation in extreme northwest Tennessee, Obion County, where the city of Union City is now located. Roland left the family farm to homestead on land along the Tennessee River, which eventually became part of Decatur County. None of us in the modern Milam family knows anything about how Kizzie met our sire, but she married John Calvin Milam in 1850. Perhaps, she had been visiting her brother when she and John fell in love. In any event, they produced two children, Mary Eugenia and O.C. Milam (my grandfather), before the husband died in 1854. Almost 100 years later, little, curly-haired Linnie Britt Milam discovered that the areas small town residents were vestiges of Southern legend--loving, friendly, gracious and hospitable. She liked the people of Decaturville whom she had met, but shyness kept her close to Papas side whenever they left the farm. Their limited social life had prevented her getting to know many people outside their church family, during the three years she had been a resident of the area. Certainly, she was unaware that everybody in the town and surrounding county knew her husband well. That afternoon during my 10th month of life, Mother was standing outside the only local restaurant, holding me and talking to some of the other farm wives who liked to come into town on Saturdays. They came to buy groceries and dry goods, as well as to socialize and catch up on the latest news about their neighbors. Two gnarled, mulberry trees grew in front of the cafe, and groups of ladies often loitered there, in their shade. Suddenly, a short, lively, bantam-rooster type of man stopped before her. “Is that Ack’s new kid?” he blurted. “Here, let me have her.” With that, he wrested me from Mother’s arms and quickly stepped east toward John Tolley’s Grocery, clucking his tongue and tickling me under the chin at the same time. They say I loved it and giggled all the time he held me. Well, he did proffer a stick of peppermint candy, so who could blame me? Mother was frantic, turning to the other women and demanding to know just who that man might be. “Oh, that’s just Iley Austin, a County Commissioner. He and Ack have been friends all their lives. Roxie is okay with him,” came the reply. It wasn’t until Papa came out of the barbershop next door to the eating place, and verified what the ladies had said, that Mother was mollified. Still, she has said that I was held just a little tighter in her arms when she carried me on the streets of Decaturville, after that. Mr. Austin was always friendly and especially attentive to me whenever I saw him anywhere. I don’t know if it was because he just liked Papa, or if something about me impressed him that day, but he followed my progress through the levels of my school career. He complimented Papa often for having a child who did well. He was to reappear in my life several times over the years. One reappearance occurred when I was in the seventh grade. A favorite event for country folk to attend in those days was a fiddlers contest. It wasnt only those who could play the fiddle (violin) who competed in these competitions; there were dancers, guitarists, pianists, singers, and banjo players who displayed their best and most practiced talents in the hopes of being judged better than other artists in the same category and of winning a monetary prize. Some superb picking and singing, rhymmic movement, and “tickling of the ivories” could be enjoyed by going to a Fiddlers Contest. My family and I were excited when it came time for the annual event to be held in the High School gymnasium at Scotts Hill, TN. That evening, we arrived early (as we always did for anything) and settled in to be entertained. Encouraged by my parents and exhilarated by the music that surrounded us, I entered the Vocal Solo contest at a sign-up table for that category. Suddenly, after my name was called to perform, I found myself standing in front of an old-fashioned. radio microphone, trembling with anxiety, but buoyed by the glad, acclamation beaming from the upturned faces of a friendly audience, Loving the thrill of showing off, I loudly intoned the lyrics to Eddy Arnolds, “There’s a Blue Moon Over My Shoulder.” Never having entered a musical contest before and accepting of my vocal limitations, I was absolutely astonished when I won first place. One of the entrants was Geraldine Fisher from Decaturville, who sang “Memories”. It was a song that she performed in Decatur County High School’s annual Barnwarming Program for 6 years, from the seventh through the twelfth grades. She was good! I just knew that she would win the contest. Also appearing in the competition was Judy Johnson, daughter of Coy Johnson, the mayor of Scotts Hill; she, too, sang really well. Later, I learned that Mr. Iley Austin, currently the most renowned citizen of the town, had judged the competition. Who was really the best singer? It didn’t diminish my joy in the victory when I discovered Mr. Iley was the judge. In fact, that victory was probably one of the early successes that kept me from developing a “victim mentality.” Often, young people who are raised in rural settings buy into an idea that city residents or individuals who have money are better than they. This “them and us” mentality can prevent these children developing the boldness to grow beyond their circumstances or to accept who they are and never apologize, if they are doing their best. Too frequently, working with school students, I have seen such an inferiority complex prevent an individual rising to his full potential. For some reason, perhaps from successes like winning the Scotts Hill Fiddlers Contest, I have expected to be accepted by people from all walks of life. There is no fear in my heart that anyone is “looking down on me.” I’ve attended cocktail parties in New York City and barbecues on the banks of the Tennessee River, always confident that I can fit in to either situation. This attitude wasnt born with me; it was developed by some validation from others, such as Mr. Austin, and by my making a conscious effort to love people. I acknowledge their value while convincing myself that they respect me. One of my favorite sayings is that “I’ve flown with eagles and cavorted with crows, unabashed, knowing all the time who I am—Gods creature, a valuable Country Girl from Decatur County, Tennessee.”
Posted on: Sun, 28 Sep 2014 05:09:28 +0000
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