Blanche told me I was born in Bloody Mingo County in West Virginia. The history of that county includes the feuds in that area of West Virginia and across the border in Kentucky. If you Google Hatfields and McCoys, you, will find that history. There were Hatfields in our family photo album and no McCoys. So I knew whose side we were on.
But there was an even bloodier feud between the Martins and the Tollivers. We’re talking here about a dozen lives lost in the Hatfield and McCoy feud and forty-some in the Martin and Tolliver feud. Blanche was proud to be a Martin.
As a child at the Saturday matinee, I would occasionally watch cartoons that depicted the feuds. The theme song of these cartoons had as a first line, “Oh the Martins and the Coys they were reckless mountain boys.” Notice that the song suggests the Martins feuded with a fictional family called the Coys. In the early part of the twentieth century, a courtship between a young couple, one a Hatfield and the other a McCoy, was followed on national news, a real Romeo and Juliet drama.
The feuds and cartoons brought about a definition of hillbilly that didn’t fit with the life I, as a hillbilly, led. My daddy was hard working and my mother kept a clean house and put delicious meals on the table. I felt that I was and may still be similar to the characters in the television series “The Beverly Hillbillies;” that is, seen by the outside world as way too trusting, even to be point of being naive.
Not that I am dismissing the violence I observed and heard about. I realized then and still see that there are all sorts of behaviors among people and I know humans have the ability (free will) to choose how they will behave.
When I was four years old and a couple of neighbor women took me to Sunday School, I was so happy to be introduced to Jesus who loved me and was with me all the time that I chose to go to church alone the following year when we moved to a house within a block of a church. That my mother and daddy did not go to church didn’t matter. I knew where I wanted to be. We moved a lot and I found a church when I could. I was too intimidated by the big stone church buildings in Baltimore to enter one of them. So, during those four and a half years, between ages 11 and 16, I went to church only in the summers when Blanche and I would return to Portsmouth, Ohio, for six weeks.
Another place I wanted to be as often as possible was the movie theater. I was allowed to go alone and one day stayed through the film twice. Blanche was worried about me, so when Brownie came home from work and had eaten, they headed up the alley from Third Street to Second Street to find me. They saw me coming down the alley but instead of accompanying me home, Blanche wanted to see what kind of movie could hold my attention that long. She told me to go home and eat and they went on to watch the movie. It was “Magnificent Obsession” by Lloyd C. Douglas, from the book by the same name. I was 5 or 6 when I saw the movie and had to spend a few years learning how to read before I could enjoy the book. In my teens, I began reading and re-reading Douglas’s sequel “Dr. Hudson’s Secret Journal” that became about the most important book in my life. It is about helping others in secret, going into your closet and praying in secret, and getting God’s rewards as promised in the Bible. There was a TV series based on that book. My favorite books and magazines have always been inspirational. Another author among my favorites is Norman Vincent Peale. His “The Power of Positive Thinking” has been a ruling influence in my life from my teens onward.
I was reared by two parents, church leaders, school teachers, and movies when the Hays Code was in effect. One can do a study of the Hays Code online. Just know that from 1930 to about 1960, American film makers had a voluntary code for keeping movies morally sound, according to the morality established by the Hays Code. American film makers were avoiding threatened government censorship because of the blatant immorality of the 1920s films.
That I grew up in a culture in which I observed occasional violence and heard about more caused me to know the risk of danger that all humans face. It would seem I have lived a protected life for eight and a half decades, never having had violence affect me physically. I was never raped, kidnaped, threatened with torture, nor in any other way personally harmed. Spankings don’t count. I’ve never even been in an accident I couldn’t walk away from, have never had a broken bone. I was a benevolent person and expected the world to be a benevolent place for me. It was and has continued to be a safe place for me to be. That I am 85 and in good health with enthusiasm for life might be a result of my positive thinking, or perhaps due to protection by a strong guardian angel. Who knows what fate is assigned to each of us or how much we can influence our fate?
I need to add that I learned to steer clear of danger. Because I was reared as an only child and had peers who either couldn’t or didn’t want to go places with me, like the movies and church, I was often alone when outside my home. I learned how to spot danger, such as the stalkers whom I saw watching me and the men in the movies who might try to touch me in the dark. When up close and personal with a man who tried to talk me into participating in sex, I felt no fear because I knew about the fear that was inside the potential molester. The one time a man did touch me, when I was ten, I easily escaped and told Blanche. She said, “Don’t tell daddy, he will kill him. ”
I already knew that Blanche was willing to die for me. She told me how badly her knees were messed up when she fell while holding me as a baby and worried more about protecting me than breaking her fall. Even though I now know anyone might do that, at the time I was told the story, I interpreted it in a way that made me feel safe and protected by my mother. So, I was reared by a mother who I was certain would die for me and a daddy who I believed would kill to protect me.
That I was accustomed to doing things alone caused me to go to Chicago unaccompanied for a week’s vacation when I was 19. I stayed in the YWCA, went to all the tourist spots, and didn’t even think I might be at risk. However, on my last day, I went on a boat to see Chicago as night fell and the lights came on. I asked the barker where I needed to go to buy a ticket. He replied, “Little lady, just stand over here and I’ll take care of that for you!” Hah! I watched people, saw where they were going, and found the ticket booth. But later the barker was on the boat following me. A problem to solve.
I looked at the passengers and finally saw three men who I thought were probably gay and went up to them. I asked them to walk off the boat with me and get me far enough along that I could get back to the Y without being stalked by the barker. They walked me all the way to the Y and even arrived the next morning to take me to the train station. The world is populated with many wonderful people waiting to help others. Discernment of who is safe to be with and who is a likely threat is a learned talent. Dogs and children have the talent but people lose it along the way if they aren’t careful and allow fear to rule their lives.
I have read online that there is a Hatfield-McCoy Marathon in Williamson W.Va. each June. I have a grandson, Kevin, who has qualified for this year’s Boston Marathon. Perhaps he could go to Williamson and run as a descendant of the Martins. I know he would do well and upgrade the family reputation.
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