Sarah Daisy Beasley
A Childhood Recollection
Wording is exactly as Grandmother wrote it!
A childhood recollection ca. 1885 written sometime in the 1930s by my grandmother, Sarah Daisy Beasley, daughter of the Rev. Mebane Jesse Fendal Beasley and M. G. Booth.
Not a town - just a country village situated on the Louisville and Nashville Railroad. The depot and section house were about the freshest looking buildings in the village for they at least got a fresh coat of paint occasionally. The roosters crowed, the cows lowed, the pigs squealed and the dogs barked at the moon, or at any stranger who might be passing along the big road. This also was a signal to the natives to come and stand in their front doors and stare at the stranger and these good innocent people bade good morning, Hi, stranger, fine mornin. And about the same time an old black mammy would come from the rear of the house with either a white baby in her arms or a dishrag in her hand and feeling it necessary to have a voice in the greeting, would say, Come on back here, Boss, leave that pusson alone, you is always making a fuss at nothin. But the sun shone just as bright - the moonbeams just as silver and the birds sang just as sweetly as anywhere else. Perhaps the sun seemed brighter and the moon clearer because there were fewer people to gaze but they gazed longer and harder.
A childhood Recollection ca. 1888 written sometime in the 1930s by my Grandmother,Sarah Daisy Beasley, daughter of the Rev. Mebane Jesse Fendal Beasley and M. G. Booth.
Scrap, Im so tired.
But Scrap, tell me about my mamma and her folks.
Why, chile I feel jest like I see ghostes when I talks bout yo mammys folks - my mammy, Liza, knows all bout you and your mamms folks and dat uncle of yours too. She went with Amos up in Maryland and Amos and his daddy worked for yo mammys folks and soon as you gets old nuff to have good sense Liza goin to tell you all bout em. She done tole me so, and honey, Liza aint no fool; she sho can carry lots of secrets in her bosom and I, bein her chile, was marked dat way. So don you worry, honey, and when dese granchillun come trapsen in for the week-end as Miss Sarah calls it, you mind me chile, you do jest what Scrap says. You know how de broke yo best doll and dem doll dishes yo uncle sent yo (dem chillun aint got no manners a tall). Now, listen to Scrap. Ise goin to hide all yo best play toys and if yo teases me to give em to you while that tribe of little wild cats are in dis house, Ise gwine to pinch yo. Yo hear me, cause Scrap lubs yo, honey, you almost seems my own chile. I liked yo mammy and it wasnt her fault she was born tired. Her own mammy neber worked - didnt have to - and didnt she die when yo mammy was bout two years old and didnt dat uncle ob yours take her when her daddy married agin. Yes, sir, yo uncle took dat chile and got a fine man and his wife what had no chillun, and he paid her board and lodgin all dem years and dem folks lived in the big city. Course yo mammy didnt know how to work, how could she, and why your daddys folks calls yo uncle a mean disreptable man I dont know. So much I dont know but Scrap aint no fool either and I think yo uncle was plenty good to take care of yo mammy all dem years. And yo daddy went off teachin school somewhere and yo mammy went to larn books in dat school and here he comes bringin her back here wid him, and Miss Sarah neber seen her for she comes all prancin in dis house wid yo daddy in all dat style. She had plenty of silk dresses, chile. She sho looked sweet in all dem ruffles and lace, bracelets and necklace shinnin. Dem kind of folks don seem to live long. I don know why. She jest pined away after yo daddy died."
My grandmother and her 2 younger brothers, Claude Booth & Jesse Anthony were orphaned in 1888 and were taken in by her father's sister and husband, Eudora Marabia Beasley and William Butler of Aspen Hill, Giles Co.
Aunt Rabe in this recollection is Eudora Marabia.
William Booth Henderson
Los Angeles, CA