Alright! To kick off our new tradition of showing our older buds' handwritings with their stories, here's a story that has always meant a lot to me, not just because of what Hattie wrote, but because of what happened right after our writing session was over. I was cleaning up the papers in the quiet room. In walked Hattie. Click HERE to find out what she said. This conversation took place October 15, 2009, just the fourth time of our group has ever met. Already, the sense of trust in our group was inexplicably, magically deep.
Hattie Lee Ellerbe
On Friday afternoon it was time for Mr. Ferguson to come to our house. He was our music teacher. For $2.50 a week, per household, he taught all of us.
Grandmom was determined to have us all learn to play the piano. Growing up we always had a piano in our house. I never really learned to play but three of my sisters did.
Grandmom was so proud of us; she had us playing at church and anytime we had company at home. I am the middle child of five sisters. I admit, I was different. Grandmom wanted us all to be little ladies. I was a "Tom Boy" and was always having accidents by falling down or hurting myself. I was always on punishment.
Everyone, including myself, thought Grandmom "picked on me" and whipped me the most.
We had sufficient clothing and Grandmom worked very hard as a factory worker to see that we never went to bed hungry. She stressed education and religion. I never missed a day of school in 12 years.
It wasn't until I became a grown-up that Grandmom and I became close.
In later years, November 26, 1974 approximately 8pm, Grandmom died in my arms, with a smile on her face as I tearfully whispered - I love you.