I met with Lisa Carter, the fine principal of Maynardville Elementary School, last week. She was on the phone when I arrived, so I had a few moments of leisure to look around her office. On the wall directly across from me was a saying—“Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.”

What a wonderful saying! It gave me a start, not because of its relevancy, but because of a misread. Due to concerns with COVID or possibly just a trick of the trifocals, this is what I read—“EVACUATION is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.”

If we are all honest, there are those whose “evacuation” fills us with much more joy than their arrival. The saying that has now become a cliché holds true in so many cases: “Everyone brings joy into this office. Some when they enter, others when they leave.” I once knew of a male healthcare worker who was solicited by a female for drugs. The healthcare worker was most offended and despised that female for the rest of their limited association. Of her he once said to me, “She looks better going than coming.” In other situations a man saying this of a woman might be praising her beauty, but not in this case. The healthcare worker preferred this particular female to be as far from his presence as possible.

When I was dating my wife, there was a gospel singing at Union County High School. One of the featured singers was Michael Combs, a particular favorite of Mary Ann, my future wife. One of the featured groups was The Good Shepherd Quartet, a favorite of my mother’s. On the appointed day, I loaded my little old Saturn with my future wife, two of her sisters-in-law, my future stepson Dustin, and my mother.

My mother was rarely pleased with any of my female friends, and certainly not with a potential future daughter-in-law. Mother was on her best behavior, at least in the beginning. I’m sure she felt like her rightful place as Queen of 317 Walker Ford was respected and honored when Mary Ann relinquished the front passenger seat to her when we picked Mother up. When I began the drop-off after the concert, Mother was delivered home first. Mary Ann moved to sit in the now unoccupied front passenger seat. As this was happening, Mother looked into the back seat and said, “Bye, Dustin, I love you.” Mary Ann said, “Do you love me, too, Mary Mincey?” Mother looked her straight in the eye and said, “Yeah, I love you, as fer [far] out of my sight as I can get you.”

Needless to say, Mary Ann was shocked, as were we all. Mother saw she had hurt Mary Ann’s feelings and hurriedly told her she was just joking. Mother did come to accept Mary Ann, as Mary Ann made it abundantly plain to me (and I related to Mother) that she would not dare move into the Walker Ford house as long as Mother was alive, that she would in no way put an old woman out of her home. Mother later told me that she was glad I’d found someone to take care of me after she was gone. Mother loved to collect dolls. After Mother died, we found a doll that sat in the living room next to the grandfather clock. It had a “birth certificate”, and Mother had named her Mary Ann.

Even after Mother died, she had a message for me. I dreamed that it was the final viewing at the former Ailor Mortuary just before the trip in the hearse to the cemetery. Everyone was filing by the casket, and Mother was saying good-bye. When I passed by, I said, “Bye, Mother.” She replied, “Bye, Ronnie. You get married now, you hear?” It might be considered odd to some that she never told me who to marry.

Mother believed in the commitment to marriage. It is no secret to anyone who knew our family well that Dad was an alcoholic. Preacher Oliver Wolfenbarger told me the first time he ever heard of Frank Mincey was one day when The Preacher was conducting business at the old Union County Bank, present site of the Union County Court Clerk’s office. We lived in the little house straight across from Maynardville Baptist (now First Baptist) Church. Dad was “cutting a shine”, and The Preacher asked who was making all that racket. The reply, “That’s just Frank Mincey.” Enough said.

Mother was married to Dad for eighteen years, and it was at times difficult. Mother told me that she did once talk to Attorney J. Howard Collett about a divorce, but she “stuck it out”. My revered Aunt Lydia (Lidie) once asked Mother, “Why don’t you and me rent a house and take Ronnie here and get away from Frank?” Mother replied, “Well, Aunt Lidie, I married him for better or worse, and it keeps getting’ worse all the time.”

Mother believed in the responsibility of parenthood, and of honoring Father and Mother. Years after Dad passed away, another of my favorite cousins spoke ill of Dad. I told mother what the cousin said, and Mother was scandalized. “Somebody talkin’ like that about your daddy!” she exclaimed. Mother might have at times gotten mad at Dad for drinking and said some pretty plain things, but not even I could get by with saying anything negative about Dad even after he had been dead for years.

Mother believed in the togetherness of family. No matter where Dad might be at supper time, the table was set, and she and I ate there, not in front of the television, as I do now. Even after Dad passed, Mother and I continued to eat at the table until I went away to college.

Mother believed in the learning from education. Mother was not herself well educated—she only completed second grade. But Mother was very smart. She read and wrote well and knew when not to sign a document. From me “A”s were happily received though not overly praised, as they were expected. “B”s were tolerated, “C”s were fussed about, and there were never any “D”s or “F”s. She coupled her belief in education with prudence in spending. Though we were poor, we were never destitute, thanks to Mother. My mother could stretch a penny until Abe Lincoln’s whiskers popped. She was talented at cooking soup beans and corn bread. I always had a dime for ice cream after lunch at school, school pictures were always bought, and the rent, utilities and insurance were always paid. I always had clean clothes.

I asked Mother on her death bed if she could do it all over again what she would do differently. She said, “Live more for the Lord.” Mother also believed in the Golden Rule, and in God in government and schools. I think if Mother could speak to us now, she might say these very words that I received in an email:

Spread the laughter, share the cheer.
Let's be happy, while we're here.

My mother, in spite of her trials, was a happy person. People were always glad to see her coming and sad at her “evacuation”. My wish for you, Faithful Reader, is that in the midst of your own tribulations that the same can be true for you. And for me.
E-mail Thought of the Week

They say marriages are made in Heaven.
But so is thunder and lightning. (Clint Eastwood)