“Petty” Tips for a great family vacation

Over the years of traveling with family, I have learned a few things that make the trip run smoothly.

1.        Pack plenty of activities to keep kids busy in the car.  Our family vacations were pre-video players in cars.  So we had to carry LOTS of things to do.  Tip:  Crayons melt in hot cars in the summertime.  Once I bought a lot of small, inexpensive toys and placed them in brown paper lunch bags, stapled shut.  When the conversation in the car became “She’s looking at me” and “Mama, he is touching my car seat”, it was time to open another bag.

2.       Pack plenty of snacks and liquids to drink in the car.  Tip:  Chocolate melts in hot cars in the summertime.  Jimmy always wanted apples and chewing gum.  Small packages of crackers with cheese or peanut butter were great.  Bottled water was not a staple back then, so a thermos of ice water or lemonade and cups with lids were the rule to quench thirst.  Jimmy also liked for his mom to make him a bunch of her “smush burgers” for him to eat.  When he was a kid, the family packed a stalk of bananas and a 3 lb. pack of hot dogs to eat on the way to Chattanooga.  Yes, you could buy bananas still on the stalk back then.

Rock City, Lookout Mt., TN

Wading at Cades Cove, Great Smokey Mountains
 

 

 

3.       Take plenty of rest stops. I wonder if John, Anne & Kathryn realized that those jump ropes and Frisbees that we took on the long ride to carry Kathryn home from Mississippi to Ohio were to wear them out at the rest stops on the interstate so that they might want another nap on the way.

4.       Be prepared for disagreements between the driver and the navigator.  Now days it is the GPS that gets the blame for a wrong turn.  Back then the person in the front passenger seat kept a paper map that could never be refolded properly to navigate the path to the vacation destination.  Inevitably, turns would be missed and the kids in the back seats were able to add new words to their vocabulary.

 

5.       Pack for every possible emergency.  We must have believed that vacation destinations did not have pharmacies, grocery stores or general merchandise stores.  We packed our suitcases on the “what if” principle.  That made packing the car a challenge that even Einstein would have wanted to avoid. Two items that Jimmy always insisted on packing were a roll of paper towels and a spray bottle of window cleaner.  He couldn’t stand having bugs on the windshield.  Paper towels also came in handy with kids’ messes.

 

6.       Families with more than 2 children or with an older teenager need a van with at least 3 rows of seats.  The back seat is the only place for a teenager on a vacation.  Space from the rest of the family is necessary for the coexistence of family members related to a teenager.  The back seat needs to be outfitted with a pillow and blanket and some form of sound emanating from a device that uses earphones.

7.       Take lots of photos.  The photos will be necessary to embarrass your children years later when you blog online.  Be aware that the willingness of children to be photographed on family vacations decreases with age.  That is the reason that the older sibling appears less frequently in vacation photos.

 

 

 

 

 

Disney World

Kennedy Space Center
 

The Evolution of the Jim Petty Moustache

When I first Jim Petty in college his face was as bare as it was the day he was born.  His venture in the world of "hair statements" in the early years of our marriage was to let the locks on top grow to the shaggy stage.  We both went long with the hair in the young days.


1972

First year teacher 1970

Young Junior High Principal late 1970s



Late 1980s
 

Campaign poster 1994

Chemo did not defeat the moustache!
 


As a first year teacher, he remained clean shaven for his yearbook photo.  But soon the lure of facial hair began to intrigue him and his experimentation began.  I wasn't quite sure if I would like a moustache at first.  It didn't take long to get used to seeing him taking as much care grooming the hair beneath his nose with a tiny moustache comb and pair of small scissors to keep the "look" in shape.  At times he spent more time in front of the mirror as I did.

The most difficult moustache look to groom was the handlebar that he sported for a while.  Unfortunately, we neglected to get of photo of him with the ends curled up like the villain in a melodrama. He had to buy special wax to keep the curl from drooping at the ends. 

When deer season started to approach, the razor went on holiday.  Beards help keep the face warm in a freezing deer stand was his justification.  I got used to that, too.  But warm weather meant the razor went back on duty.  Hot summer days in the south are not easy on beards.  I don't know how the Duck Dynasty bunch maintain their beards in the Louisiana heat and humidity.

Most folks who knew Jimmy as an adult probably thought he had always had some kind of hair adorning his face, or at least his upper lip.  I don't think our children ever saw him without at least the moustache.  When chemo came into the picture, we wondered what would happen. Jimmy had me shave his head after the first treatment because, as he said, he "didn't want his hair to fall into his Rice Krispies" one morning.  But he didn't want to touch the moustache.  And the chemo didn't touch it either.  The eyebrows disappeared, but the moustache never gave up.  He still had the same smile peeking out from under the moustache and the sense of humor that was the hallmark of Jim Petty never stopped. 

150 years ago today, four members of my family tree were taken as POW at the fall of Vicksburg.

As most native southerners, I have many names on my family tree who saw service during the Civil War. So far I have identified at least nine soldiers in my lines (both Confederate and Union) and three on Jimmy's lines.  There may be more who yet to be identified.  Four of the names I have identified fought during the siege of Vicksburg and were taken as prisoners of war at the surrender.  They were:    

Richmond J. (Jake) Peavy, Pvt. Co. K  40th AL (first husband of my great-grandmother,  Mary Frances Mundell and father of James Edward and Joseph L. Peavey)

W. A. Warner, Pvt. Co G 40th AL (husband of Frances T. “Fannie” Wiggins and brother-in-law to my grandfather, Richard W. Wiggins)

Lemuel B. Pollock, Pvt. Co A 35 MS  (GG-grandfather of my late husband, James E. Petty)

John F. Burkhalter,  Corporal Co. K 38 MS Cav  (son of my GGG-Grandfather, Elias Burkhalter)

All four of these men signed the Oath of Allegiance after which they were released.  By signing this oath, they promised not to take up arms against the United States until an exchange of prisoners had been executed.  But most of the men who signed these oaths immediately rejoined their companies to go on fighting elsewhere. Some were even taken prisoner again in other battles and send to prisoner of war camps. 

Jimmy's GG-Grandfather was one of those who was captured again.  The second time was at the battle of Resaca, GA.  He was sent to Camp Douglas, Illinois, where he remained until after the end of the war.

Back when Alise was little and before John and Anne had joined the family ranks, Jimmy and I took Alise to Vicksburg to see the military park.  It was a hot summer day much like the weather during the siege. Re-enactors were outside the visitor center in a simulated artillery post.  While we were there they fired the cannon.  Jimmy took pictures of the men resting in the little shelter from the sun, loading the cannon and firing the cannon.  We were miserably hot that day in our cool summer clothes.  I got a taste of what the heat must have been like for those soldiers as they held out from May until the city fell on July 4, 1863.

 

 

Jimmy's Doughboy Grandpa

Albert Petty June 19, 1919, one month after discharge. Original in the possession of the author.

Albert (Buddy) Petty and Nona Pollock at the Neshoba County Fair August 1919.  Original in the possession of the author

There are as many stories of the origin of the nickname, "doughboy", for American soldiers during World War I as there are days on a calendar.  In fact, the soldiers in WW I weren't the only soldiers to be called doughboys.  I will leave it to you and your preferred search engine to chase some of those stories.  I just know that Jimmy's paternal grandfather, Albert Petty, was a doughboy who saw action in Europe.

Albert Petty in WW I uniform, June 19, 1919. Original in the possession of the author.
 

Buddy, as the family called him, was inducted on the 19 of July, 1918, three days after his 23rd birthday.  He was inducted in his home county of Neshoba in Mississippi.  The clerk who typed his statement of service card must not have been familiar with Neshoba County and its county seat of Philadelphia, because he entered Philadelphia, Pa. as the place of induction.  Soon he was on his way to Camp Shelby south of Hattiesburg, MS.  By the 5th of October, Buddy was officially listed as serving overseas.  During his time in Europe he served in France and England.  I don't have any details of his experiences while in Europe.  I do know that he did not receive any injuries while he was there. 

 

When he was discharged he was issued one hat, one pair shoes, 4 pair stockings, one overcoat, one poncho, one shirt, one undershirt and one pair drawers "in compliance with W. D. cir. no. 166, 1919".  I notice that pants were missing from the list of clothing.  Was that another typist error?  I hope so.  He is certainly wearing uniform pants in these photos.  He was still in uniform when he went to the Neshoba County Fair in August a few weeks later with his wife to be, Nona Pollock.  That uniform may have been the best clothes in his wardrobe or it may be that the returning soldiers were still basking in the glory of victory.  Or maybe the fair offered free admission to veterans in uniform. 

 

It would be several more years before Buddy and Nona eloped and married in Meridian, MS. But that is another story for another day.

Even Daddy would be surprised to learn the truth behind this photograph!

The portrait of my grandfather, Richard W. Wiggins II, hangs in my living room.  I thought it was taken in 1913 when he played Joseph in a play about the Biblical story of Joseph of the coat of many colors.  Many times I had heard the retelling of the event that had taken place before my father’s birth.  So, I suppose my father could be excused for having gotten the facts a bit out of order. 

 

Granddad's portrait in my living room.

 

I had heard about the play being presented in the Grand Opera House in Meridian, MS , about 1913. The family must have been present because the tale is that Granddad’s niece, Annabelle, was in the audience.  When she saw her Uncle Dick on the stage, she hollered out a greeting to him right in the middle of the performance.  After all she was just a small child, Daddy said. 

I have held the wig that my daddy said was a part of Granddad’s costume as Joseph.  I have memories of seeing the sandals he is wearing in the photo, but maybe that memory is the kind that seems to be born of hearing a story so many times that reality and true memory seem to blur.

I found a program from the event that had been put away as a souvenir and remained out of sight until I had to empty the house on 15^th avenue for Mama and Daddy to sell.  I was too busy to look through the program at the time, so I, too, put away the program along with smaller versions of the photograph on my living room hall.  There was also a printer’s woodblock of the photograph that had been used to print Granddad’s image in costume in the playbill.  The printer’s block was the same image as the portrait in my living room.  I had a “complete” souvenir package of my grandfather’s stage appearance as Joseph.

Then the day came that I had time to bring out the “playbill” and photograph the pages to document it for the family history.  That was the day that the truth was revealed to me.   If I had only taken the time to even read the cover when I found it, the tale would have gone up in smoke.  The booklet is titled “Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite of Freemasonry.  Valley of Meridian.  Orient of Mississippi”.  Inside the program I learned that it was the  forty-first reunion held in February of 1920 at the Scottish Rite Cathedral on Twenty-third Avenue.  How could I have not noticed that!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wrong date.  Wrong place. Wrong event.  Right photograph.  Yes, the portrait that hangs on my living room wall is the same portrait of my grandfather in the program booklet , but he is not identified as Joseph son of Jacob.  The caption reads, “ R. W. Wiggins, 32 Degree, as Zarababel, in the Fifteenth Degree.”  I don’t know any of the secrets of the Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite of Freemasonry, so I can’t explain the caption.  I can only assume that he had some role in the rites of the degree process in the Masonic lodge.

If I had not been caught up in the story Daddy told me from the time I was a child, I would have noticed some clues as to the errors in the story.  The strongest clue is the reference to my grandfather’s niece who in a childish way called out to him from the audience.  I could have put two and two together to realize that she was much too old in 1913 to have behaved in such a manner.  She was about 12 years old then. 

Granddad may have actually acted in a play in the Opera House.  There are other costume pieces and stage equipment that were found in the attic and outbuildings at the 15^th Avenue house.  Annabelle could have, as a young child, greeted her uncle on stage.  But that is not the story of the photograph.  Daddy may have heard the various stories and may have as a child blended the facts into his own memory.  He certainly was not trying to fool me or to pass on a false story.  He really thought the photograph represented Joseph.  But the truth, in the end, does come out.  And that truth is a good story all its own.

The house on 15th Avenue. 100 years of a family's memories.

1908 Four Generation Wiggins-Peavey family.  Original photo in possession of author.

15th Avenue house.  Date of photo pre-1950. Original photo in the possession of the author.

Photos of three, or four, or sometimes five, generations are a staple of family photo albums.  They are usually taken at family reunions, weddings, funerals and sometimes at the birthday celebration of the oldest generation or the birth of the youngest.  Not many photos are taken because all four generations live in the same house. 

What you see in the photo of the four people above are my great-great-grandmother in the rocking chair to the left.  Her daughter (my great-grandmother and my paternal grandfather's mother) sits sternly next to her.  One of my great-grandmother's sons (and half-brother to my grandfather) is the only gentleman in the photo.  His daughter  (my grandfather's niece) is the only child.  Their names are almost as long as the description of the seating arrangement because both women were married twice.

 The four people on the porch were not the only occupants of the house.  My grandfather was there.  He bought the house for his mother in 1901.  He had just probably turned 21 and he wanted his mother to live in a house that she did not have to move (or "remove" from as they said back then) when the landlord decided to sell his rental property.  It had happened to them before.  My grandfather's half-brother had a wife and, by the time of the 1910 census an additional daughter of his who all lived in the house.  Also in the 1910 census the other half-brother had moved in with his wife and three sons.  Twelve people occupied a six room house that did not have an indoor toilet at the time. 

As the years came and went, at least four additional family members cycled in and out as residents of the house on 15th Avenue.  One of those family members was my father who was born in the house.  They left bits and pieces of their lives there.  My great grandfather who died prior to this photo, left his tool chest that he had used since he was a carpenter in Green County, AL, in the 1850s.  His step-father-in- law left the tools of his shoemaker's trade.  My grandfather's half brother who is pictured left remnants of some of his inventions.  As children, we played with the funny sunglass- looking pieces of plastic that I did not learn until a few years ago were part of his prototype made for the patent he obtained for a "glare shield".  He also left behind some of the pay telephones from the telephone companies he managed. 

Many pieces of furniture also lasted longer than the people who used them.  The wicker rocker that my GGGrandmother sits in on that porch now sits in my sister's home.  At one time it found a place in my own home.  Some of the furniture that my carpenter great-grandfather made are in my home and the home of one of my daughters.  Some furniture awaits in storage for younger generations to have in their homes. 

And of course there were the family Bibles and the photographs and a few letters.  There were the quilts, tatting, embroidery and even a few pieces of clothing made by the women in the family who were masterful with a needle and thread. 

It was a hard decision for my parents who were the last of the generations to occupy the house as a primary residence to finally sell the home.  After all, it had been the place where memories had been made for the family for 100 years.  In 2001, my parents moved to live near me.  In 2003 they decided it was time for a new family to make memories there.  It must have been the right decision because, in an old neighborhood where "for sale" signs would sit for years, the house of 15th Avenue was under contract within two weeks.

I might drive by the house on my way home after my week at Genealogy Camp.  The current residents are restoring the house.  I can't say their choice of paint would be my choice.  But their choice to love the house of my family's memories definitely gets my OK.

One man behind the men on D-Day. How Daddy played his part.

Daddy on cold day in England wearing a sweater from the Red Cross.  Original photo in the possession of the author.

Daddy in fatigues at Knettishall RAF, Suffolk, England.  Original in the possession of the author.

"Daddy, what did you do on D-Day?"  we would ask when the subject of WW II came up.

"Not much", he would always say.  "I was on leave.  The base was on lock-down and I couldn't get back on."

All through our childhood our father played down his military service.  He made it sound to us that he pretty much goofed off all those years he spent at Knettieshall RAF in Suffolk, England.  It wasn't until I was an adult and my husband and I got to see his papers from his time in service that I learned the truth.  Jimmy, my husband, was the first to realize what Daddy had done during the war.  Jimmy started asking questions and he got answers that Daddy never shared with Lydia and me.

The papers Jimmy was looking at were Daddy's certificates of his pre-deployment training.  I knew he had spent time in Pocatello Idaho and maybe in Salt Lake City.  I didn't know what kind of training he had been doing. His separation papers said that he calibrated and made minor parts for the Norden (Norten?) bomb sight and the Honeywell automatic pilot.  Daddy had told us he had worked on B-17s.  He had prepared all the planes from that air field that were among the first planes to fly over the beaches of Normandy on D-Day.  He wasn't there in the planes that day.  But without his precision work on those bombsights and autopilots, the success of the men who did fly would not have been achieved. 

To further emphasize the importance of his role, we eventually learned that he was one of only two men on the base who calibrated the sights.  Daddy finally told us that he worked under armed guard to protect the security of the bombsights.  Sounds to me like Dad played an important role on D-Day.  He may have been on leave the day the planes flew, but without his preparation on those planes and that of countless other men who did prep work and stayed behind, D-Day could not have happened.

A few months ago, Lydia and I decided to do a little research on Daddy's time in service.  We found internet sites with information and pictures of Knettieshall RAF.  Lydia found a site that had pictures of the nose art of some of the B-17s at that air field.  When she enlarged the photos, she noticed that one called "Gremlin Gus II" had a man in the nose canopy who appeared to be working on something inside that area of the plane.  It sure looked liked Daddy.  Other websites on the Norden bombsite indicated that the nose canopy was the location of the sight. Since only one other man on base did the same type work that Daddy did, it is a 50% chance that it is Daddy.

  I definitely like to believe that I have had a glimpse of my daddy doing what he did almost seven decades ago getting the planes ready for the men who flew on D-Day.  It is ok that he was on leave the actual day of the Normandy invasion.  Daddy's job was already done.