Aunt Flo Stories

We weren’t much for celebrating Halloween when all of us kids were on the farm. I think it was only later that we even heard of trick or treating. But one night when I was still very young, some Halloween goblins came to our house. I was just old enough to have heard ghost stories but naive enough to get scared to death.

It was after dark when somebody knocked on the door. It was unusual for anybody to come around that late, but Dad opened the door and looked surprised at what he saw— three people dressed in white sheets all the way down to the floor. Dad began to laugh and opened the door wide for them to come in. I couldn’t believe it! I backed away in a hurry to the far side of the room. They came right on in, moving over toward the corner where the old organ was, not saying a word. I had heard that ghosts were always quiet so they can sneak up on you. They had ugly, scary faces painted at the top where their heads should have been, and there were huge black eyes, drooping down as big as lopsided moons. One of them turned and looked in my direction. I was afraid that any minute they would reach out and grab Dad and then they would reach out and grab the rest of us. But Dad kept talking like he was having fun, and they just stood there, still not saying a word.

Finally, Dad asked Mom, “Zettie, do we have any candy or something to give our visitors?” I thought, “What in the world is wrong with Dad! He knows we don’t have any candy. And why would he want to give them candy?” I wanted him to run them out of the house and lock the door.

It seemed like a long time, but finally they did leave. When I was sure they were all the way gone, I came out of the corner. Dad was still laughing a little and talking to Mom, but he just made it harder for me to understand. I went to bed so mixed up. I don’t think I slept much that night.

The picture of the Marvice and Zettie Emerson Williams’ home, (see below) is from the very early 1940’s, I believe. This old house survived two fires, many wind and rain storms, as well as, the rough and tough of the growing-up years of eleven children. Mom and Dad first moved here just after Clarice, their oldest child, was born in 1919. In its first few years, the house did not have the front porch nor the addition of a kitchen, a dining room, and a screened-in-back porch. My brother Donald told me that Dad himself had built the extra rooms. That space certainly would be needed because there were to be 10 more children to follow Clarice.

It’s awesome to think of it, but it’s true: my mother, Rose Zettie Emerson Williams, was born a hundred and twenty-six years ago. I feel very proud of her. I remember her every day and miss her.

My mom lived most of the first years of her life with her mother Florence Emerson Durham. She called her “Mammy”. That was a common way of addressing mothers in those days. The two lived in a small house on her Grandpa John Frank Emerson’s farm a little way off Calvary Ridge Road. Mom’s grandpa had a strong influence on her life. She loved him dearly. Her natural father was never there. When Mom was eleven in 1907, her mother married Billie Durham. Mom would sometimes talk about going places, (usually by walking), with her mother and Billie, but I know very little about him. Dad told me that Mom and her mother had life very hard, so perhaps things were a little better when Billie came into their picture.