Jenny
Brown
WMST
101
Moira P. Baker
Oral
History Project
2/19/01
“I Mean To Tell You”:
Reflections on the Life of an Older Woman
Peg
Patrick tells it like it is, whether I want to hear it or not. But if she says it,
then it needed to be said. She makes me nervous and she makes me believe in
myself, because she equally observes weakness and strength. I felt guilty about
not seeing her for so long, but after her reprimand she hugged me like I had
never left the dimly-lit kitchen filled with cigarette smoke and belly laughs.
I had not seen Peg since 1997, when I interviewed her husband
Raymond for a county cultural heritage article. Both of them are storehouses of
local information, remembering every detail of a former time through funny and
heart-warming stories. Raymond does not mind to tell you he used to be an
alcoholic, and laughs over Peg throwing his clothes down the steps to await him
on coming home one late night. But he thanks her for it because she loved him
enough to care about his well being, whereas his family forgot him after he
turned 18. Peg loves him because he loves her for who she is, a little mean and
tactless “used to be fat” girl who will throw you out the door if you fail to
do what’s right, and invite you back in when you show her that you at least
know who is right—her.
I
do not remember when I first met them. Raymond is the kind of person you run
into at funerals and see walking out of the Farm Bureau on the corner. Peg does
not get out much since her leg crumbled six years ago and she was restricted to
the house. My sister and I have always called her Granny Peg, the funny lady
who made us Barbie clothes and revealed all
Page 2
the things about the townspeople we always suspected
were true. She looks the same as I remember her, with short white hair and
glasses, but never in the “little old lady” sense. Peg is 74 and looks 54, not
from expert primping or vanity, but from leading a simple, hard-working life.
She greets me sitting in her wheelchair in the tiny kitchen, a prosthetic right
leg jutting out of her blue shorts. I take her with a grain of salt, but love
her anyway.
“Hey,
doll baby. Where you been so long? What in the world did you do to your hair?
It used to be so pretty.”
“What?
I just put a little red in it.”
“Aw,
god.” She lights a cigarette. “What the hell you want red hair for? Oh,
well. Now sit down and let’s talk about me, sweetheart.”
Peggy
Terrell Flannery Patrick was born December 31, 1926, in Richlands, Virginia, in
“the brickyard,” a place owned by the General Shell Company where bricks were
made in coal-fired kilns. She is one of eight children—four girls and four
boys. When I asked her about the roles and expectations of her childhood, she
revealed that “gender had nothing to do with it.” She is one of the oldest
three girls in the Flannery family. They helped their widowed mother to raise
the younger children as they did their household chores. Peg believes that such
early and intense involvement with young people is why she loves children, and
why she became a teacher. I was surprised to learn that the Flannery boys
received the most attention. “They were babied because they were harder to
raise. We were always with them.” Peg declared this without being aware of any
personal gender oppression or perpetuating a societal practice.
Page 3
Peg
recounted her childhood without adhering to the question of gender difference.
She never noticed any differences, though I can see them as she talks with me.
She shared stories of pet funerals, respecting elders by leaving the room when
they were talking (about the neighbors), going to Sunday school regularly but
being “not real religious,” and having been “kept busy” in the garden with
removing bean and potato bugs from plants. I suspect the girls were busier,
especially her other “beautiful and skinny” sisters with talking to the service
men who would visit them every two hours while Peg learned to cook. “That way I
was ready when I got married”--and successfully fulfilled the role of proper labor
within that institution. Her mother loved when the boys visited just as much as
her daughters did. In addition, she set out pictures of her sons, but none of
her girls, never providing any explanation when her daughters asked.
Peg
did not think she was treated any differently from boys while in school. She
lived during the Great Depression—“when everybody had nothing, but you didn’t
know it.” “Boys when I went to school were so nice. They respected you because
they were brought up that way. And they knew who the girls were that were . . .
I don’t know what you would call it, but you know what I mean. I mean to tell
you, we had nothing to do with those types of girls. The boys knew who would go
out with them and who wouldn’t.” Even though the boys did not respect that kind
of girl, they still went out with them. Society affects even the small town.
I
was surprised and somewhat disappointed to find Granny Peg in such adoration of
her male peers and future students. She was very sympathetic toward them for
serving during World War II, and for the boys at home still having their chores
to do after walking home for how ever many miles after football practice. While
I could certainly understand their extra
Page 4
burdens, the
conversation did not go in the direction I had hoped. Traditional thinking has
indelibly shaped her life, but I can respect that.
Peg
attended James Madison University in hopes of training to become a Home
Economics teacher but failed the chemistry requirements since she never
received that education at high school. She transferred into the typing
courses, and was hired back home to teach every subject in a one-room
schoolhouse. The surrounding communities all had one-room schools because there
was no busing available until one entered high school. When I asked her if boys
were treated any differently when she was a teacher than when she was being
taught, she responded, “I took up for the boys, I don’t know why . . . because
they were meaner.” Perhaps this derives from Peg’s not having been one of the
prettiest girls; rather, she drew upon “good horse sense” and how to take care
of herself while being “mean,” as Raymond attests. I think she nurtured
toughness and independence in her students.
She
was hired straight out of college because teachers were hard to come by so soon
after the end of World War II. There were so many children going to school that
the day had to be split in half. Peg taught from noon until 4 p.m., while
others taught from 8 a.m. until noon. After school, she would go to the bank
and wrap money. She would then go on to work at her family business, the
Flannery Theater. However, she was only paid for the first two jobs when she
started. She and Raymond married in 1949. She continued to work at the theater,
and was then paid one cent for every bag of popcorn she sold. Business was good
because the theatre was a new and exciting attraction in the small town. Peg
was often able to make “good money”—ten to twelve dollars a week.
Page 5
Peg
taught nearly every subject imaginable, including special education in which
she made life-long friends with many of her students. Once a female teacher
married, she was no longer allowed employment. Nevertheless, substitutes were
often needed, and Peg did that for a while. A teacher of the “gifted” fifth
grade class quit, and Peg was called in to take over. She laughs when telling
me, “They taught me more than I taught them. They’ve gone on to be really
successful. Some of them have been computer analysts, professors, even written
books.” Peg was known to be strict, but caring and attentive. “I was
strict, but I loved them and they knew I would take up for them.” In most
cases, they were the boys. She encouraged them all to respect their mothers. In
keeping with tradition, Peg had them bring in their mother’s favorite recipe.
They decorated it and presented it on Mother’s Day.
I
asked Peg if she became cautious about spending money after living during the
Great Depression. Her family had ration cards for items such as sugar, coffee,
and shoes. Virtually no one in town had a car. However, classism was present
among those who did own a car and those who lived in Richlands, unlike the poor
in the brickyard across the bridge. Peg says that living during that time
taught her the value of a dollar and how to save. “Back then it was the value
of a penny.” A luxury item in the Flannery house was a ten-cent loaf of light
bread. Her most interesting response to living during the time is that it
caused her to see now that people “don’t know how to eat.” She attributes this
fault to the introduction of fast food, which appeared in Richlands during the
1960s. Her family raised their food from the garden and they had chickens. Peg
said, “Mama saw that our meals had all the vitamins and minerals.” Yet Peg says
that she was “fat,” and had to have her clothes
Page 6
specially made because the one store in town only
carried certain, smaller sizes.
When
I asked if the ‘60s affected Richlands other than the introduction of fast food
chains, she responded, “Oh, yes, honey. Lordy!” “Those girls” wore shorter
dresses. Peg once heard a stomping sound on the street outside and looked out
the window to see the Ku Klux Klan walking toward a promiscuous woman’s house
and setting up a burning cross. It seems women’s behavior was observed more
closely than that of the few African Americans living in the area. Peg loved to dance and claims that she could
jitterbug “like nobody’s business.” She enjoyed the introduction of the twist
during the ‘60s, and loved to embarrass her only child, a daughter named Terry,
during chaperoned school dances. Peg declares, “I may have been older and knew
what was what, but I got in there with ‘em, ya know? I had fun.”
Terry
was born in 1951. Peg does not think she raised her any differently than Peg
had been raised—“with all the right morals.” Peg thinks that parents are to
blame for the faults of today’s youth. She thinks that because parents may not
have had much, they gave it all to their children, and it was “too much, too
fast.” As a senior citizen in a small town, Peg has enjoyed being respected.
She does not think this would be the case in a larger region and finds parents
to blame for failing to instill children’s respect for their elders.
She
admits she feels her age in the changes of her body. She had to stop teaching
after twenty years when a car accident injured her back. She had to have a
mastectomy in 1983. I asked her if she felt any less of a woman after the
surgery. “For a time, yes. I thought he wouldn’t want me anymore. But he told
me he married me, not my breast.
Page 7
And when I had to have my leg amputated, he said he
married me, not my leg . . . . But I am still here. I still have a purpose.”
Peg
believes that with age comes wisdom. She says that she matured, learned how to
“calm down, listen, and retain so much more than when I was in my thirties and
forties.” She contends, “enjoy life till you’re 39, then the real thing
begins.” She had hopes and dreams that did not come true. She always wanted to
learn a foreign language and help the less fortunate in other countries. “I
wanted to help people to learn that they could live so comfortably on so
little.” Nevertheless, she says she would not change a thing: “I’ve had a good
life. I thank the Lord for letting me live when he did. It was in an era where
I learned from the hard, and lived from the good to the better. I am going back
down the road, see? You go up so far, then you level off, and go back down,
remembering all the good things you had.”
Peg
had many pieces of advice for younger people, but not for women in particular.
I think this is because she believes in equality. She urges people to never say
“I can’t,” because they can always try and always learn something, to be
thankful, realize that someone is always worse off than they are, and to know
that everything happens for a reason. She goes on to say, “I’m not going to
bring religion in here much, but always (points toward the sky) have Him,
because He is the main one. If you don’t have Him, you have nothing.”
Her greatest peace and satisfaction
is that “God has been good to me--I have lived a wonderful life with a
wonderful,
loving
family. I was brought up to love other people.”
Page 8
For all the surprise responses, I was pleased
to hear her say: “I want to end with this: To gain wisdom and be a good person,
get
out there and find out how the rest of the world lives.”