Dear List Members, I hope you will forgive me for posting a personal story, but after reading the post about the old schools in South Sebastian County, I just can't resist. I am justifying it (rationalizing is such an *ugly* word... ;>) as it is related to South Sebastian County history, and genealogy (sorta)... though perhaps a bit more indirectly than the usual fare... If this disclaimer/warning leaves you disinterested, please accept my apology in advance, and feel free to delete at will... My Great-Uncle Everett Thames taught school in an old two room schoolhouse located between Jenny Lind and Greenwood, in the early 1900s. (I can't swear to it, but I think it was probably one of the Old Jenny Lind schools... it was out that way- I know you used to could see it from Hwy. 71, and it was nearer Old Jenny Lind than Greenwood.) The other teacher at the school when he taught there was a Mr. John Hodges. The story is about how, by an unlikely set of coincidences, I came to know this. In the very early seventies, when I was in my very early twenties and lived in Phoenix, Arizona, there was a very spry elderly man who used to occasionally drop by the camera store that I managed. He first came in on business, but we got to be buddies, and he'd usually stop in to chat a while whenever he was in the area (my little store was located in a cental hub for shopping, banking, etc., for that part of town). Mr. Hodges, I soon came to learn, was engaged in the never-ending romantic pursuit of his landlady, Mrs. Glass (in the most proper Victorian sort of way, of course). But alas, Mrs. Glass was not receptive. Not in the least. During his visits, Mr. Hodges would often regale me with accounts of his various courting tactics, and I'd commiserate with him on his complete lack of success. He would often speculate as to why his attentions were being rebuffed, and as to why his latest attempt- whatever that might have been at the time- was once again rejected. He finally came to suspect it was because she was just a "spring chicken" at sixty-three, who just wasn't interested in "an old coot" like him (he was eighty-four or five)... though personally, he thought at their age, it shouldn't matter, as he was still healthy and active. (In fact he was in great shape... he would walk all over the area to take care of his local errands, and one of his standard ploys was to mow Mrs. Glass's lawn for her and help her with her gardening and landscaping.) For a brief time, after discussing the age factor, I thought he had resigned himself that there was nothing he could do about that, and it was just not meant to be... But I underestimated the ardor, and the tenacity, of dear Mr. Hodges in matters of the heart. One day he turned up, and asked me if I noticed anything different. I had to admit I didn't. Then, with an impish grin, he took off his hat. He had dyed his hair brown! He was hoping coloring his hair would render his appearance youthful enough to entice the reluctant Mrs. Glass. It didn't. But unlike Mrs. Glass, whom I understand was chronically annoyed by her admirer's attempts to gain her affections, I was amusedly endeared by his unwavering devotion to his intended. But, despite his thwarted love-life, Mr. Hodges was a bright and happy gentleman- a ray of sunshine, always with a new joke, or an engaging story... and of course, his latest angle on the wooing of the lovely, if reticent, Mrs. Glass. Thinking of him still makes me smile... and chuckle. He was a truly delightful friend, and his humor and charm seemed to make insignificant the more than half a century difference in our ages. I had known Mr. Hodges for quite a while, and we had become close enough friends that one day he came down to the store to tell me that he would be out of town for a while, so that I wouldn't worry about his absence... he didn't want me to think he'd "up and died" or anything like that. He said he was getting ready to go back to his hometown for "Decoration Day", a trip he tried to make every year, health permitting. His use of the term "Decoration Day" piqued my curiosity, as I had not heard Memorial Day called Decoration Day since I'd left Arkansas, and it made me nostagalgic for Decoration Days past, spent in the ritual of grave-tending with my mother and grandmother. Moreover, the use of the term immediately told me he had to be from somewhere in the South, too, so I asked him where he was from... "A little town that you've every heard of, Little Lady", he told me. "Well, you never know... try me", I challenged him teasingly- though little did I dream how surprised I would be at his reply. "I'm from a little place called Greenwood, Arkansas", he said... "I told you it was no place you'd ever heard of..." (Mistaking my slack-jawed amazement for a blank stare, I suspect.) When I told him that, in fact, I was no stranger to Greenwood, as both my grandparents, and great-grandparents had made their homes there, not to mention that my grandparents between them had over a dozen siblings- and then there were the cousins... Then it was his turn to be taken aback, evening up the score. But he was soon to take back the lead... He asked me who my family was there, and I had no more than given him the surnames, before he was telling me that he had taught in an old two- room school with my Great-Uncle Everett, whom I was very aware of, but sadly, do not remember, as he died when I was very young (though I had always been told he was fond of me, as he claimed I got my red hair from him). Not only did they teach school together, but on Sundays, the two of them rode a circuit of little country churches- on horseback- and led the music ministry. His stories painted a picture of my great-uncle, as a young man who loved music, and who was full of humor and adventure... Mr. Hodges, told me stories of their lives that no one else in the world could have shared. I remember, as a child, my mother showing me the old schoolhouse where her Uncle Everett used to teach. (the building may still be standing... but it has been so long, and so much has changed out that way, I'm not sure anymore...) Little did I know when my mother used to point out the little school on our way to or from Greenwood so many years ago, what a role it would later play in an unlikely set of coincidences, that would fall into place over a thousand miles away from South Sebastian County. It has been more than twenty-five years since I first met Mr. Hodges, but I still marvel at our meeting. Of roughly a million people in the Phoenix metropolitan area at that time, what are the odds- not only that we would meet and become friends, but that we would ever come to realize that our histories were connected by a little town, and a little two room schoolhouse, in Arkansas, where he'd taught almost fifty years before- with my great- uncle, no less? But the coincidence didn't end there... Sometime later, I left my job at the camera store to take a job teaching reading in a federal program in the local school district. At one of our traditional end-of-the-school-year luncheons at the school where I worked, the conversation came around to some related topic, and I happened to tell the story of my friend Mr. Hodges to some of the teachers I worked with. Lo and behold, one of the teachers suddenly blurted out, "Are you talking about *John* Hodges?!?" When I confirmed that I was, she said "That old man's been chasing my mother around for years, but she won't have anything to do with him..." Yep, after working together for a couple years, I learned that my coworker, Margaret, was Mrs. Glass's daughter. We had a good laugh, and I got 'the rest of the story', from Mrs. Glass's perspective, via her daughter... (Turns out that Mrs. Glass was firmly entrenched in her belief that matters of romance were unseemly for any but the young... and she had no intention whatsoever of pairing up with my friend, or anyone else, for that matter... and she thought he was an 'old fool' for even thinking about such a thing... but he did do a beautiful job of the lawn. Poor Mr. Hodges... I don't think he ever stood a chance. ;>) Eventually, as they are both wont to do, time and life moved on, and I lost track of Mr. Hodges... I feared the worst, which was not unrealistic, as he had been in his eighties when we first met. In the mid-seventies, I moved back to Fort Smith, and though I never saw my friend again, I thought of him often, and had shared the story with other family members. One morning, some years later, I opened the newspaper, and saw it... Mr. Hodges had died, at age ninety-four, and his funeral was to be held in Greenwood. My mother and I attended his burial at a lovely little country cemetery, not too far from the old school house. It was a very bittersweet day for me... but I was grateful to get to say a final farewell to my friend who was such a bright, funny, and happy chapter of my life. Thanks for you patience in letting me remember my friend once again, and share this bit of his story... (And who knows, maybe one of his descendants will read this, now or in the future, and in that way, I will have given back a bit of the story of his life to his descendants, as Mr. Hodges gave a part of my uncle's life and times to me... It would be only fitting... and the coincidence wouldn't surprise me one bit. ;>) To sweet memories <clink!>, ===================='leigh Ashleigh Morgan Thames <boudiccat@mindspring.com>