06/05/2024
THIRD CHAPTER: āMy Lifeās Journey to Ebony Funeral Homeā
Workaholic: āA person who compulsively works hard and long hoursā.
Iām not sure Iām an actual workaholic. I think itās just in my DNA. Itās the example I lived with ā working hard was the White familyās way of life. My Father worked on the Beam farm from dawn to dusk. My Motherās work was never done, so working was something we ājust didā.
My first official paid job was at Cochrane Furniture Company through a program set up at the local high schools, starting in tenth grade. My job was to staple the āinformation ticketsā on the bottom of the dining room chairs. (Some of you may still have a Cochrane chair with a ticket I stapled. Their furniture was built to last forever). Faye, Juanita, and Brenda were my fun-loving workmates who made working there a joy more than a chore ā sharing stories, laughing at ourselves, sharing homemade goodies, and giving our supervisor, āBudā Weaver, a hard time. Although I received a paycheck, I canāt remember how much. But I do remember sharing it with my Mother, paying for school expenses and to fill up my little White Cougar with gas ā maybe $.50 a gallon?
Where did I get a Cougar, you ask. Sometime during my Junior year, my Papa Lamar purchased a second hand White Mercury Cougar from my cousin. Here was a white woman (Reba Ramsey), a black White woman driving a White Mercury Cougar up and down Highway 27 W every day. We were an unusual sight! Besides buying a car for me to get back and forth to work, Papa Lamar was my primary booster ā maybe because I was his only daughter ā but he instilled in me the self-confidence and self-worth that there was nothing in life I could not achieve. He was a humble man, the kind of man people called āa good manā. His wit was wicked, subtle, and could sneak up on you! He constantly kept us laughing. My parents usually drove down to Lincolnton every Saturday to shop at B.C. Moore, Roses, and to pay on a bill at B. F. Goodrich. One particular Saturday when I did not go, I decided to let Arnold the Pig out to play with. Needless to say, Papa Lamar was not happy with my risking the escape of our meat supply. Despite my protestations that Arnold was my pet, my father gently reminded me that Arnold would eventually be pork chops, bacon, sausage and ham. I never let Arnold out to play again!
And Papa Lamar led by example - attending church with us every Sunday, making sure all meals were shared as a family, and that we took turns saying Grace at mealtime. We all also worked the garden with him ā planting, hoeing weeds, and harvesting the crops. Working the garden was expected and accepted as our responsibility as family members. And oh, my, what a garden we had! We kept my Mama Lottie busy canning everything we grew - green beans, beets which she pickled, tomatoes, and corn, which she froze. That was our winter supply of food forus and all those foster kids.(Oh, and Arnold, and all his kin who came before and after.)
AlthoughPapa Lamar encouraged all his children and foster kids to be the best they could be, he was also a disciplinarian who expected good behavior, but he wasnāt mean and he didnāt s***k! (He left that to Mama Lottie ā which she did sparingly but it didnāt take but one or two good hand s***kings from Lottie White to set one on the path to good behavior and obedience!)
My Fatherās Mother, Grandma Carrie, came ādownā from Cincinnati every summer to visit with us for a few weeks. (All the White family except my Father had moved āup northā years ago looking for better opportunities.) I can still hear her humming āAmazing Graceā as she stirred a big pot of greens someone brought in from the garden, or crimping the crust on a fresh apple pie.
While my Father took care of the outside chores, Mama Lottie kept a spotless house. All beds were made every day and no one dared sit on one thereafter! No dirty dishes were ever left in the sink overnight and clothes were folded and placed in drawers or hung up. Floors were swept daily and furniture dusted before anyone could write their name in it. And everyone did their part!
Thanksgiving was a major event at our house. Mama Lottie spent the day in the kitchen with help from whoever was available and the men spent the day sawing and chopping our winterās supply of wood.
A feast of the āfattedā hen, dressing, candied yams, cobbler, greens, ham and biscuits was ready by the time the wood was stacked and covered and we shared our thanks for all the blessings God had bestowed upon us.
The Lamar and Lottie union was a happy one ā starting on April 8, 1945 until his death on July 16, 1975. The 337 friends and family who came to pay their respects and sign the funeral register is a testament to the regard with which he was held by the entire community.
After his death, a big hole was left to fill at the āWhite Houseā. I stayed on with my Mama Lottie who continued to foster children until I moved into Lincolnton in 1987 to work at Ebony Funeral Home. During that time, my life as an āemployeeā traveled in several directions. After leaving Cochrane, I served as a full time nanny one year for Ed and Brooke Kale, caring for āLittle Edā and Virginia, āGinGinā to me. They called me āTan-Tan.āThen I was offered the great pleasure of caring for Billy, Daniel, and Mike Lawing, the āthree sonsā of Dr. Dan and Mrs. Patricia Lawing on a part-time basis. Miss Pat said I cameāhighly recommended. (and I think she voted for me, too!)
In 1970, I became a housekeeper for Lincoln County Hospital, but getting to know the patients as I cleaned their rooms became a habit ā and a heartbreak when some passed away. I especially remember a āMiss Bertieā whose death had a profound effect on me and left me very sad. My next position was at Riverside Athletics where I became a fulltime seamstress in 1973, sewing sleeves on athletic shirts. In 1976, I had entered Cleveland Technical Institute in Shelby as a night student, continuing to work at Riverside,until I graduated in 1978 with an Associate Degree in Applied Science with a Major in General Office Technology.
In 1979, I received that fateful call from Mr. Edward McGimpsey of Ebony Funeral Home which set me on a path that would change my life, and those of my siblings, forever.
So that, my friends, is what is was like to ācome of ageā as Mary Frances White in western Lincoln County and the beginning of my working life in the ābig cityā of Lincolnton. I thank God every day for growing up in a stable and loving family, even though marked by periods of tragedy and great sadness; for loving and supportive siblings with whom I am still close; for living in a community where racial divisions were minimal and everyone was a neighbor in the finest sense of that word; for a newly integrated high school where my race was never an issue and I was accepted as a full member of the student body; for employers and co-workers who encouraged and inspired me to dedicate myself to the task at hand and to do it to the best of my ability; for the opportunities to meet and engage with people of all ages, races, religions, and economic status who played a significant role in the formation of my values and goals.
Thus ends Chapter 3.
This campaign is almost over and my fate and that of the Lincolnton City Council is now in the hands of the voters. If you live in the city and have not yet voted, please do so and if you choose to support me, you have my gratitude.
My āLifeās Journeyā beginning with my encounter with Mr. McGimpsey and Ebony Funeral Home, my community service, and my quest for a seat on the City Council will continue in the fall ā when once again I will be asking for your vote.
Thank you all for sharing my journey this far and please know how much I appreciate your comments, good wishes, and kind words.
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