I
lost my oldest friend the day after Thanksgiving.
She was six years old when I became aware of her. My birthday fell in August, and hers in November, so I started to school a year before she did. We were basically the same age.
She was a tiny little girl, with soft brown eyes and brown pigtails. I loved her from the very beginning. We lived in the same community and the long time residents were like family. Her mother had passed away some time before, leaving her father caring for the children. She loved to introduce herself as “one of ten kids from “up a holler.” I felt sorry for her because she had no mother. I had a sample bottle of Jergen’s lotion which I prized greatly, and I gave it to her. (Seventy-five years later, I am still ashamed of what I did) I looked at her, and at the bottle, and said, “When it’s empty, can I have the bottle?” She answered softly, “Why, you can have it now.” That was Myrtle Belle. (I didn’t take it!)
How I loved that family! The older children had married and left the family, and each succeeding daughter took over the household duties. Their father was the epitome of patience. He was a devout Christian, and to hear his testimony in church was a blessing. I can hear him now, turning to the younger folk and admonishing, “Be good, little children!” What a godly heritage he left! He raised a houseful of motherless children who went on to live good and productive lives.
They had a foot bridge across the creek to their house, probably made of iron pipe, and one day a trio of little girls jumped on it until we bowed it down in the creek. We were pretty abashed by what we did, and the next day I timidly asked her, “What did Earley say?” She airily brushed it off saying, “Why he didn’t say anything!” I thought then, if it had been my dad, he would have blown his stack. That was Earley.
Of course the trio of little girls was Myrtle Belle, Jeuell Beth, and me. We weren’t really ornery, just mischievous. I guess the worst thing we did was steal some rhubarb from Opal Jarvis’ garden—and she would have given it to us if we had asked. Then we stopped at Lona Walls’ and bummed some salt to eat on it. We felt so daring!
The three of us went to Hagar Grade School together (which incorporated all eight grades) and then on to Clay High School. We had lots of adventures together. Myrtle Belle was so much fun, sunny and sweet natured, and had an infectious giggle. I remember a pie social at Hagar School, when we were discussing a certain old man who was supposed to have murdered his wife. On our way to the girl’s toilet, we rounded the side of the school building and ran smack into his face. With hysterical giggles, we ran as fast as we could on to the toilet.
We walked a lot up and down the holler road, discussing school, friends and life in general. I spent a lot of time in the old Brown house, and many nights there. There were always a warm welcome and loving people. Arbutus was married and gone, but I remember how good Audra was to us three little girls. There are only three surviving siblings, but I mourned for each one that is gone.
Time went on, and Myrtle Belle married my first cousin, Sonny, but we were still close. Jeuell Beth and Eddie; Criss and I married that same year. Then we were busy young housewives and taking care of babies. Myrtle Belle and Sonny lived on Elk River for awhile, and then moved to Elkview. Our lives grew apart, but when we were together it was just as if we parted yesterday.
Myrtle Belle continued her education, graduated from West Virginia State College and earned a Master of Arts degree from West Virginia College of Graduate Studies. She taught at different elementary schools, and served as a guidance counselor at various elementary schools in the Charleston area. She was perfect for that position, sweet and compassionate, and loved by her students.
It was a shock when we heard the news that she was developing Alzheimer’s disease. Not Myrtle Belle—with such a keen mind and loving disposition! The last time I saw her was at the Hagar School reunion a little over a year ago. She was in a wheel chair, and her speech was almost taken from her, but Jeuell Beth and I knelt at her feet and held her hands. She smiled so sweetly and I know she recognized us. As I left, she said distinctly, “I love you, too.”
The human part of me wants to weep and wail—but then I realize, “She’s gone home. Her spirit was trapped in that frail, little body, but now she is free! And—I will see her again!” “O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?” (1Cor.15-55) But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ!
She left a wonderful legacy of courage and steadfastness to her children and grandchildren. Her husband will be remembered by his love and loyalty, and the tender care he bestowed upon her. Oh, she will be missed!
OUT OF THE HITHERWHERE
By James Whitcomb Riley
Out of the hitherwhere into the yon—
The land that the Lord’s love rests upon.
Where one may rely on the friends he meets,
And the smiles that greet him along the streets,
Where the mother that left you years ago
Will lift the hands that were folded so,
And put them about you, with all the love
And tenderness you are dreaming of.
Out of the hitherwhere into the yon—
Where all the friends of your youth have gone—
Where the old schoolmate who laughed with you
Will laugh again as he used to do,
Running to meet you, with such a face
As lights like a moon the wondrous place
Where God is living, and glad to live
Since He is the Master and may forgive.
Out of the hitherwhere into the yon—
Stay the hopes we are leaning on—
You, Divine, with Your merciful eyes
Looking down from faraway skies,
Smile upon us and reach and take
Our worn souls Home for the old home’s sake—
And so, Amen—for our all seems gone
Out of the hitherwhere into the yon.
