I hope I have it written down somewhere because I find it difficult, already, to recall the dates (years even) when I visited my dad down in Stockbridge, Georgia. Springdale Road was still unpaved when I first visited.
NOTE [09/16/22]: I was working with “Region P” Community Development Agency in Jacksonville, NC in the late 1970s. Their headquarters was on New Bridge Street and almost directly across from where I lived at the time on 204 Johnson Blvd. One day I walked home for lunch, and while there, got a call from a NC Highway Patrol officer. He asked me some “identifying” questions, and then said something to the effect that, “Your sister has been trying to reach you.” At which point I was thinking to myself, “I didn’t know that I had a sister.” Before the patrolman hung up, he said, “She will be trying to reach you shortly.” *The only phone in the house was on the wall in our kitchen. This was well before cellphones became prevalent. [end note]
The above images show that the location where Billy Gibson had built his home has now almost completely overgrown. At the time, there was an unfinished wooden garage, and a sprawling flat rooved home, and about 14 “junk” cars sparsely distributed about his yard. *As I recall, the guest shower rarely worked, and Bill had a way of “doling out” propane gas for the cook stove and heating the house. He had a little tank that he could carry around by hand. I suppose this gave him control over Sara, his wife, and Donna, his daughter by Sara.
It was amazing to me that he had started to build a surprisingly large home on this location. The back door opened into a small kitchen, with a large pantry. There was a large dining room just off the kitchen area, and a large window from which you could see the spillway to the small dam across the street. I think the road was still that red Georgia clay, and dusty sometimes. A large living room area was the central portion of the home, and there was a wood stove here. A bathroom with toilet, shower and sink was off the living room. I think Donna had her room off the living room, and the master bedroom was off of here also. All the rooms, except for the kitchen were very large.
*The last time I stayed overnight at Bill’s house, there was no heat and the air was uncomfortably musty, but they gave me enough blankets to keep warm. Still, the air made me cough through the night. When I said the bathroom “didn’t work” and by this I meant that the shower didn’t work properly. The water dribbled out of the shower head. Only once do I recall the shower working properly, so that you could lather yourself up, and then comfortably rinse the suds off. Most of the time, if you lathered yourself up, you would have to press against cold shower tiles in order to get under the dribbling water, or cup your hands to get enough water to splash on yourself.
The large dining room was filled with junk, both on the table and on the floor near the window.
Bill had a good recipe for Brunswick Stew. And, I think I was told that they got bread dough from a monastery in Milledgeville, GA which they used to make dinner rolls. These yeast rolls were delicious. *Years later, in 2018, I visited Milledgeville at the time when Hurricane Florence came through and did all it’s damage. *I checked and there was no monastery in Milledgeville. I see there is a monastery in Conyers, GA, Monastery of the Holy Spirit and it does have a bakery.
I ran from the storm and got far enough inland, Milledgeville, to not be affected noticeably by it. I stayed at the Days Inn by Wyndham in Milledgeville for several days. But, the problem was there was a lot of flooding that almost completely closed off Fayetteville, NC from automobile traffic for about week. Highway 95 South was closed due to flooding. After waiting several days, one morning in Milledgeville and a nearby town, were beautiful and sunny. I decided to try to make it to Fayetteville that day. My game plan was to drive up to Greensboro, NC, and then drive down Highway 421 to Fayetteville. I think I stopped in Siler City that night, and ate Chinese at Lum’s Restaurant next door to an inexpensive hotel. The motel was AmeriVu Inn & Suites.
I tried to come home a day early, but was turned around due to flooding. I then drove back up to Raleigh where I intended to stay at a LaQuinta Inn, in Cary, where I once stayed for a conference. They were “full up” so I drove all the way back to Siler City and stayed another night there. I headed down Hwy. 421 next morning and noted flooding at various points along the highway. One “on” ramp was flooded and the Deep River was near reaching the top of the Hwy. 421 bridge. After I got on Hwy. 501 at Sanford, I drove down to Pinehurst/Southern Pines/Aberdeen. Along the way, I began to wonder if I wasn’t going to get trapped by flooding, and not be able to retrace my path, if necessary. But, I did a circuitous route which took me to Raeford and back to Fayetteville on Hwy. 401. And, I was back at work the next day.
NOTE: Regarding walking home for lunch, when I was working at Region “P” and living at 204 Johnson Blvd. in Jacksonville: Once, my mother hired a Mr. Kellum (who was an itinerant preacher) and his “boys” to put vinyl siding on the house at 204 Johnson Blvd. Mom bought the siding which came in large cardboard boxes, and sheets of insulation (to be put on the house wall before adding the siding). They began their work which I think took several days, and mom was working, on Base at the time, so she went to work aboard Camp Lejeune.
One of the days, I walked home for lunch. I walked around the outside of the house and saw one of the “preacher’s boys” up on a ladder putting up the siding. I don’t recall what we said to each other, but just something in passing.
I went inside and made something for my lunch, but I must have seen something in the work that made me go back outside to check. The worker had gone to his lunch, but the ladder was still leaning against the wall. I climbed up the ladder and sure enough, part of the cardboard box for the siding, had been used instead of the proper insulation.
I climbed down the ladder and went and got something to write with. I don’t recall if I used paper or part of the cardboard box to write a message to the worker. My note said something to the effect to “please use the insulation we’ve bought, we don’t need a house built of ‘cardboard'”. I left the note under the worker’s hammer, and then walked around under the carport and counted the sheets of pink insulation leaning against the wall. There were nine sheets. I then walked back to work.
When I came home after work that day, the worker was gone, and the vinyl siding had been completed on that end of the house. The note that I had written to him was torn up and had been thrown on the ground. I went around and counted the sheets of insulation still under the carport… 9, hmmm. I told my mom about this and she told Mr. Kellum, and the siding was taken back off and the proper insulation used beneath the siding. But, mom had to take off from work to be there to make sure the job was done properly. “Thieving magpies!” [end note]
NOTE: I just thought, how did my mother know how much of the newly installed siding was installed properly and how much not. Did they just pull off some of the work from the previous day until they reached siding that had pink insulation underneath? How would you know that there weren’t other patches of cardboard box nailed on the walls? [end note]
Bill Gibson, II 