“The Boy Who Knew When to Change His Clothes”

“The Boy Who Knew When to Change His Clothes”

(An Autobiographical Story)

By Ronald Davis

©1983

On a hot summer afternoon, Evan put on his best pair of short pants and his favorite, brown, stripped, short-sleeved shirt. Since he was going to town, he decided to wear his Sunday shoes instead of his old tennis shoes.

Evan asked his mother if this really were the day he could go to town by himself. He was almost 10 years old, but his older brother Edward always went with him. They usually would spend a summer afternoon “window shopping”—trying to decide how they would spend their allowance. The two boys would almost always return home without spending any money. They would save it for the next trip when they would have more money added from the next week’s allowance.

Today was a different day. Evan had saved his money for a long time. He knew what he wanted, but only now did he have enough money to buy the gold ring with the square ruby stone.

His mother told him that he was old enough to go to town by himself as long as he would hurry past “Capitol Park” on his way to and from town—making sure he walked on the opposite side of the street from the park. “Capitol Park” was a large area of land on 5^th Street that at one time was the home of the state capital of Alabama. There were still large foundation stones that loomed up in the tall grass where once stood the Alabama State Capitol Building. Evan knew that older boys often played at the old park, and they liked to pick fights or even bully younger children.

On his way to town, Evan imagined how it would feel to wear a real ring. He had never had one and now his dream was going to come true. The boy hurried past the park and finally arrived in front of the old five and dime store which the store marquee said was Kresge’s Five and Dime. Evan made his way to the jewelry case and pointed to the ruby ring he had seen so many times before. After he paid his money to the clerk, she was about to put the ring in a box, but Evan told her he wanted to wear the ring home so he didn’t need a box. How proud he was as he placed the ring on his finger!

Going back home the same way that he came, Evan walked slowly. As he walked along 5^th Street, Evan was thinking of all the places he would wear his new ring—to school in the fall, to his piano lessons, to Boy Scout meetings, to his uncle’s farm when he visited his cousin Elliott in a few weeks, and to church.

All of a sudden, Evan was shocked to realize that he was walking right past Capitol Park on the same side of the street as the park--the side he had avoided when he had first come that way earlier on his way to town. Just as his mother warned, a group of older boys was playing near the old foundation stones of buildings that had been there long ago. To his horror, the boys saw him and rushed toward him yelling, “Hey, let’s get him!” The young boy froze knowing that he could never outrun the roughnecks. They surrounded him and began to pick at him, “Hey, sissy, you wanna fight? Look at the sissy; he’s even wearing a ring!”

Evan knew that he had to think up something quickly or he was going to be pulverized by these hoodlums. He didn’t like to fight even though he had his fair share of fights at home. With three older brothers and two younger, it was hard to escape a day without a fight of some sort. Today was different, however, because he knew there was no chance for a fair fight.

Evan answered the boys in a calm but tough tone of voice, “Yeah, guys, I’ll fight ya, but you will have to give me time to run home and change my clothes. Meet me back here in fifteen minutes.”

To his surprise the bullies believed his bluff, and let him start for home. As Evan turned the corner at 32^nd Avenue and Fifth Street, the ruffians shouted, “Hurry and change your clothes, Sissy. We’ll be waitin’ for ya!”

With a sigh of relief and a witty chuckle, Evan ran home to change his clothes. BUT, he did not return to the park.

(An update 53 years later—The original ruby ring was lost a long time ago for reasons I do not recall. I looked for a similar ring over the years to replace the one I bought when I was almost 10 years old. But, I could never locate one that I felt was even close to the original ring. Then, on Saturday, October 7, 2000, two days after my birthday, my wife told me we were going to go shopping. Since I don’t like to shop, I inquired where this shopping trip was destined. She told me that we were going to look for the ruby ring of long ago. We were going to The Wooden Skate Antique Jewelry Store in Okemos, Michigan. I told her that it was to no use. I had looked for 46 years and had never found a match. She said that maybe this would be the day. Anyway, she wanted to buy a birthday gift for me. I reluctantly went along. We arrived at The Wooden Skate. I asked to be shown the men’s rings. The clerk led us to another section of the building. I looked through the class countertop where the rings were displayed. Immediately I saw a ruby ring just like the one I had long ago. I tried it on and it fit perfectly. My wife said that I should buy it, but I resisted because I thought $60 was too much to pay for a ring even though it was an art deco style ring from the 1920’s. Not buying the ring wasn’t going to be the order for the day. My persistent wife said that I had been looking for such a ring for 4 decades, and if I were not going to buy it, she would buy it for me. Which she did and that was the end of that!)

Part VI: Four Grandchildren of Andrew Russell and Josephine Davis

Margery Eunice Davis Wienand

(December 6, 1911-February 13, 2000)

The second child of Luther and Ellie Davis was born on December 6, 1911. Margery Eunice Davis was almost four years younger than her sister Mary Lucille and a little over 3 years older than her brother Cronin who was born the early part of 1915. Early pictures of Margery, whose name was chosen for a perfume sold at her father’s drug store,* show a beautiful child with engaging eyes as well as physical grace. Her beauty and grace would be a hallmark even into adult life. What the early years were like for the three children of Luther and Ellie can only be told in pictures. There is one photograph of Luther, Ellie, Mary Lucille and Margery that shows Margery standing close to her handsome father. Judging from the possible ages of the children and the pleasant look on Ellie’s face the third child (Cronin) more than likely was on the way. As I look closely at Margery, her eyes once again are the clear and bright lamps that I remember from my earliest times of visiting her in Montgomery, Alabama. Margery, perhaps, favored her mother Ellie more than her two siblings did. Ellie had a full oval face with perfectly positioned eyes. Margery, too, was stamped in her mother’s image.

The first memories of Margery Davis Wienand were after the family had moved from Fairhope, Alabama. I have to rely on her children’s knowledge of when this move took place because until recently I thought the Wienands had always lived in Montgomery. My father always spoke of Margery, but my first remembrance was a drop by visit to their home in 1955 or 1956. My oldest brother was enrolled in the Forestry Department at Auburn University, and after church one Sunday, we all piled into the car to drive over three hours to visit him. At age 11 it seemed like an endless journey to me. Because of the long drive back to Tuscaloosa we didn’t stay very long visiting with my brother. It was long enough, however, to deliver any needed supplies and care packages. On our way back to Tuscaloosa, we stopped at Margery and John Wienand’s home in Montgomery. I have a clear memory of being warmly greeted by my aunt and uncle as well as being fed from their table. Uncle John had a quiet but strong presence and Aunt Margery was interested in the details of life regarding her brother and his family. I was conscious that she had a genuine interest in who were were. My own family was not given to physical expressions of affection, but the Wienand family expressed their affection openly. I was impressed with this and remember early on desiring to imitate these characteristics. I have a vague recollection of my aunt and uncle’s two daughters and was intrigued to know that I had female cousins. With six boys in my family and out of the 19 cousins from my mothers family only 5 were girls and all were younger than I. Meeting an older girl cousin as well as a younger one in the same family was significant. Margery and John’s son who was known as Son-John since he was the third generation with the name was probably not home at the time. He was the same age as one of my older brothers so the age difference may have precluded interaction at the time.

We visited on several other occasions for the same reason of needing to go visit my brother at Auburn University. The same warmth and hospitality was always present as well as great affection for us as close relatives. My father spoke of Margery in affectionate ways and always enjoyed her written missives to our family. He had a Mobile-way of speaking her name and the sound was like someone who had been reared in Boston, MA. He pronounced “Auburn” the same way. I noticed that a lot of natives from the Mobile area spoke with that inflection even Margery herself. I loved to hear her say the word “Christmas.” It sounded like “Crusmus” or something similar.

As far as his two sisters were concerned, my dad was the “apple of their eye.” I wondered if this doting and “excessive” caring for the younger brother of the family had to do with the fact that these children had lost their “real mother” at early ages. Mary Lucille would have been 8, Margery was 4 ½ and Cronin was 16 months old. Until their dad remarried over three years after his first wife died, it had to be hard on the older two as well as the baby (Cronin). Perhaps, the two dear sisters looked after him in special ways.

Every February 14 on my dad’s birthday as long as I can remember, it was a guarantee that my father would receive a box of candy and a big, fuzzy, heart-shaped valentine from his sister Margery. Mary Lucille would also send a card. Maybe it didn’t happen every year, but it was often. I had never seen fuzzy, large valentines except when he received them on his birthday. I thought all valentines came in small sizes and many to a package like the ones that were handed out in school. There were always duplicates in the little packages, but my dad always had unique valentines. I remember, too, that it was an unspoken rule that none of us children would ask our dad for a piece of the candy that he had received in the special valentine candy box. He put the box in his underwear drawer of his chest of drawers. Each night before he went to work, he would take out a piece and put it in his lunch box. We were allowed to smell the box when it was empty. Russell Stovers and other candy makers seemed to steep their candy boxes in chocolate, and the sweet smell of chocolate stayed with the box for decades.

As all children seem to grow up faster than one imagines, the grandchildren of Luther and Ellie Davis followed suit. I remember other times that the Wienands and the Davises gathered together but the pace and direction of the various lives were always in multiple directions. Some of the cousins went into the service. I know that Son-John made a career in the Air Force. Some were going to the University. Others were making career choices that took them far away. Montgomery and Tuscaloosa are only 100 miles apart but as everyone even now can attest, “It is the longest and most time consuming hundred miles that anyone can imagine. “Are we there, yet?” is not even funny when driving that 100 miles.

There were weddings, and some were able to attend. These events only gave us snatches of time to get caught up and not everyone could be present for a zillion reasons. After a while, the little connections that we did have began to disconnect and we lost contact except for the news we would hear from our parents about Margery and John. Then, parents die and even children die before parents. Parents who were the hub of contact are no longer there to convey the news of cousins and relatives that we no longer really know. Now, funerals bring us together and everyone says, “We must get together.” Time and space, however, intervene, and the connections are not made for many reasons.

Relationships are intentional in that we are responsible for maintaining them. No one else is. Some are easy to maintain and are reciprocated. But, others are more complicated because of personalities, time or lack of interest.

As we age, some of us have a need to reconnect with family no matter how distant the relations. We may also wish that things had been different and the closeness that wasn’t there for years would have a resurgence through the remaining cousins whether they be first cousins or first cousins once removed. Since there are no more mothers or fathers remaining of our parents’ generation, we are left only with ourselves to carry on the remembrance of our parents’ siblings and of their parents and grandparents. Thus, we have genealogical works that list names or story memories like this present blog. There will always be gaps in the story. Sometimes the gaps are very large since one person’s memory is only part of the puzzle. The gaps in memory for dear Aunt Margery are great for me. Circumstances are never the same when it comes to equal time with relatives. The time for starting over or starting the first time is never too late while there is still breath. I rely now on my dear cousins, the surviving children of Margery Eunice Davis Wienand, to fill me in on the huge gaps that I’m incapable of filling. Actually, they have already begun that process to my delight. The best memory of her is that my parents loved her dearly as a sister and sister-in-law. That was evident from my earliest memory. This is enough to continue her memory in my own mind and pass it on to my children and grandchildren. Margery Davis Wienand’s joys, pains, heartaches, successes and triumphs are memories that may have been long forgotten, but her kind, loving, and caring ways live on in her children. Observe them closely, and you will observe as well as experience the loving legacy of Margery Davis Wienand.

*As remembered by her daughter

October's Party

October's Party
George Cooper (1844)

October gave a party;
The leaves by hundreds came-
The Chestnuts, Oaks, and Maples,
And leaves of every name.
The Sunshine spread a carpet,
And everything was grand,
Miss Weather led the dancing,
Professor Wind the band.

The Chestnuts came in yellow,
The Oaks in crimson dressed;
The lovely Misses Maple
In scarlet looked their best;
All balanced to their partners,
And gaily fluttered by;
The sight was like a rainbow
New fallen from the sky.

Then, in the rustic hollow,
At hide-and-seek they played,
The party closed at sundown,
And everybody stayed.
Professor Wind played louder;
They flew along the ground;
And then the party ended
In jolly "hands around."


This is a poem I learned in 3rd grade. We memorized it and went from room to room reciting it. As these last days of October wane as does the present harvest moon, may we in Michigan enjoy the last days of brilliant color.

Part V-d: Four Grandchildren of Andrew Russell and Josephine Davis

Memories of Mary Lucille Davis Woodliff (Part IV)

In early January of 1997, I received a phone call from my brother Rick who lives in Alabama. He said, “Ron, you’ve got to do something!” Mary Lucille had called him and she was on a war path and was madder than H-E-double-hockey-stick! She had not had any news at Christmas from her brother’s family in Tuscaloosa. That meant US! Mary Lucille loved her sister and two brothers dearly and kept in touch with all of them over the many years. Her two brothers were now deceased, and she expected that somebody, especially in her brother Cronin’s (my dad) family, to keep her up to date with what was happening in Alabama. I scanned my memory to see if I had forgotten to send a Christmas card. I wrote Mary Lucille several times a year, but apparently I had forgotten to get something to her at Christmas time. There was NO news from her nephews in Alabama and that was NOT good news! I told my brother that it was his turn to do something. I was letting myself off the hook this time.

(Mary Lucille Davis Woodliff)

Several minutes after the phone call, I sat down and wrote a letter to Mary Lucille. Then, I got the bright idea of trying to fax the letter so she would get it quicker than sending it by USPS. I called her son Duane to see if he had a fax machine at his office. I told him to go straight to the office because I was “high tailing” the letter to Oklahoma as soon as we disconnected our call. The letter was promptly delivered to Mary Lucille.

A couple of days later, I phoned my aunt to check on the situation. Mary Lu recognized my number from her caller ID box and answered with the question, “Is this my nephew from Michigan?” She then asked me if my faxed letter was precipitated by guilt for not writing at Christmas time. I reminded her that I had written several times that year and that I had responsibilities as a husband and a father as well as work responsibilities. If I forgot to send a Christmas greeting, this was not grounds for throwing a tantrum. She said, “It worked, didn’t it?” I told her that it had, but there were other ways to evoke a response other than beating up on people and terrorizing the neighborhood. I told her that I didn’t want her to try that tactic again. She said she wouldn’t, and she never did.

When I was in conversation with Duane regarding faxing a letter, he invited us out to Oklahoma. I told him we would come during our Spring Break from school. Our youngest was still at home so the three of us drove in early April the 20 hours from Michigan to Oklahoma. We arrived late Saturday evening and stayed with Duane and Eloise. The next day we were in church together which is where Mary Lucille discovered that we had arrived. On that Sunday afternoon, three of the Woodliff cousins gathered for a reunion. We had a great time reminiscing about family. Mary Lucille sat right next to me and held my hand affectionately. One of the cousins asked me to fill them in on my family and my brothers’ families. As I gave the details, Mary Lucille frequently interrupted my conversation. I had to lean over and quietly remind her that “it was not her time to speak and that I would tell her when her time was.” That settled it. From that time on, we had a good understanding that neither of us would try to control the other’s turf. It was finally working with respect and understanding. For me, it was a victory for the two of us. We both had aggressive personalities, and we came to terms with those personalities and found peace. Of course, how much it affected our other relationships in our individual families, I don’t know. But, I have a suspicion that not much changed with Mary Lucille on the other fronts of her life. I would like to believe that I changed for the better in regard to toning down my hyper personality with those around me. My children, however, would probably tell me differently. Over ten years later, they may say there has been improvement or, perhaps, they have only adjusted their lives to embrace it with more grace and mercy than I deserve.

We made a second trip to Oklahoma that year which was in early August when the Woodliff clan gathered at Ten Killer Lake in eastern Oklahoma for their annual Family Fest. They had all the water toys, good food, good humor (which is always more evident when Lance is present), and the stuff that makes a family even better—love and affection for one another in spite of our human frailties. Mary Lucille had recently had cataract surgery and was forbidden to go near the water. She wanted me to see her jet ski at 89 ½ years old. I told her as I took my turn to “baby sit” her in cottage that I would just have to imagine her jet skiing because the others and I were going to make sure she did not defy the doctor’s orders. She obeyed.

As we said our goodbyes on the last day of the reunion, we had our picture taken with Aunt Mary Lucille. I knew full well that this would be the last time I would see her in the flesh. She died on March 31, 2000 which was a little over six weeks after her sister Margery had died on February 13, 2000. My dad’s two sisters were now gone, and there was no one of their generation left to answer the questions that we waited too long to ask. My oldest brother told me once that the six of us came from such good, strong stock—the Davises, the Cronins, the Elliotts, and the Neighbors plus everyone in between. I believe he was right.

(Next: Memories of Margery Eunice Davis Wienand)

(Mary Lucille Woodliff with her nephew and nephew's wife)