Grandma Burdett and Aunt Reatha

by Cecelia Greene Wofford

One Sunday afternoon when I was 9 or 10 Mama took us to Aunt Reatha's. Grandma Burdett was living there. Grandma had been sick, so Aunt Reatha and Uncle Ed converted their garage into living quarters for her. Grandma had a garden planted in front and to one side of the garage. There were green stalks with ears of corn and lush bushes of squash and beans growing near the ground. Grandma had planted flowers all around the borders and between the rows of vegetables. Grandma always had nasturtiums and pansies. I still think of Grandma every time I see a pansy, whether growing or in a photograph.

In the large room of the apartment Grandma had a loom set up. There was a contraption that looked to me like a cross between a kiddie cart and a hobby horse that Grandma had bought so little kids could sit on it, and when they turned a handle they could fill a bobbin that went into a wooden shuttle. I was told I was too big to sit on it. There were pedals on the floor that had to be pressed with your feet to change the positions of the threads of the loom. Grandma put the shuttle in its holder and pressed a lever and the shuttle shot back and forth in the loom and weaved the strips that made the rag rugs she gave everybody.

Aunt Reatha had milked the cow and was straining the milk in the kitchen. One of her Persian cats was lying on the floor. A buzzer went off, and Aunt Reatha noted the time on a chart, and we went outside to the pigeon coops to see which bird had come in. Uncle Ed had gone to Brooksville that morning to let some birds loose that he had entered in a race. On the way back to the house I noticed a cloth bag hanging on the clothesline filled with sour milk that was dripping to make cottage cheese.

We went into the living room later, and there were canaries in a cage and a male cat Aunt Reatha called Blue because of the unusual blue-grey color of his fur. Aunt Reatha was trying to breed a true blue colored cat. Someone asked Aunt Reatha how long her hair was. She took it down. As I remember it reached the calf of her legs when she stood up. Aunt Reatha wore her hair in two braids wrapped around her head.

Grandma gave us some ears of corn and told us we could rub the two together or rub them with our thumbs to get the kernels off the cobs. We made popped corn that night, and Mama remarked that there were no unpopped kernels left like there usually are when you make popped corn

REATHA EFFIE BURDETT MERCER D’ARPA

By: Reatha Johns Albury

Reatha Effie Burdett was born November 15, 1911, to William and Nellie Burdett. She was the seventh child and fifth girl born into this family. She graduated Valedictorian of her senior class at Hillsborough High School in Tampa, Florida.

Aunt Reatha never had any children, but throughout the years cared for one or another of her sisters’ children. She had (our) cousins and even some of their children into her home for a time. From reading Aunt Dorothy’s account of her growing up years, it seems Aunt Reatha was very responsible as a child and watched after several of her sisters and her beloved brother, Bud. I am her name-sake. At a recent family reunion, Harvey Simpson said, "Wonder how your mother knew to name you after Aunt Reatha." Meaning that I look so much like her. I recently acquired a portrait of her when she was young, and my two and one-half-year-old grandson insists it is me.

I have memory of going to Aunt Reatha’s house only a few times while growing up. I felt a little uncomfortable there, as somehow I had the impression that Uncle Ed did not like children. Because there were so many of us, maybe he didn’t like so many at one time. He raised homing pigeons, and Aunt Reatha raised chickens. One can just imagine the fun kids would have had running around in the chicken yard, watching the chickens flying all around, carrying on, like ‘chicken’s with their heads cut off’; or opening the pigeon cages and trying to hold the pigeons. Perhaps Uncle Ed understood the trauma his beloved pigeons would suffer, as they flew away to escape. We were such quiet, well-behaved children, I don’t understand how he could worry. Aunt Reatha sold eggs, butter and milk during this time.

My three younger sisters, who were teenagers, went to live with her after our Mother died. She was a widow by this time. I was married and lived just two or three miles from Aunt Reatha. After the girls finished school and went on to their chosen endeavors, she would stop by to visit with me on her way home from work from time to time. Sometimes she would bring Becky, Reatha Ann’s daughter, along as she was staying with her. By this time, I felt very comfortable at her house, and would go for hours to talk with her. In our conversations, we usually got around to discussing the Bible and history. She was a student of the Bible and history, and was very knowledgeable in both. She loved to read, and had many books. Sometimes, she would become so engrossed in a book that she would spend most of a night reading, and then have to go to work the next day. She spent many years teaching the Bible at her church. The young pastor liked to have long, in-depth conversations with her. Sometimes, she told me stories about her life. I grew to love Aunt Reatha from our visits, and have fond memories of her.

She loved my kids, and when we took a group of kids Trick or Treating on Halloween, we would go by to see her. She really enjoyed seeing the kids dressed up in their costumes.

When I would go for a visit after she married Fred D'Arpa, it was an experience. He was hard of hearing, consequently, she would speak to him in a very loud voice. Also, she wanted my full attention and he wanted my full attention, so the volume of the conversation rose steadily, as each tried to get me to talk exclusively with him or her. I felt like a ball on a rubber cord, alternately being pulled in two directions. Sometimes after leaving from one of these experiences, my head felt like it was rotating at very fast revolutions.

In the late 1970's they, along with Aunt Thelma, decided to take a trip to Ohio and asked me to go along. I really wanted to go, but didn’t think I could endure what I knew, from experience, would happen. Aunt Reatha said they hoped I would do the driving. I had visions of both of them telling me which way I should go, each raising the volume to ensure I listened to their directions. Later, Aunt Reatha told me that early one foggy morning they left a motel and turned onto an Interstate highway. Suddenly, they realized they were going in the wrong direction.

For about the last 20 years of her life, Aunt Reatha suffered from heart problems and many times had to be hospitalized. The effect of not being able to do the things she had done was very stressful for her. She was very independent.