“I won’t have to go back until I’m 103.”

By Ken Welborn

Record Publisher

 

 

On February 15, Laura Gentry and I had the pleasure of attending a birthday party for a truly remarkable lady, Belva Kyle. On that cold, rainy Saturday, over 200 people came to the Knotville Fire Department to wish Belva, also known as Mamma Snookey to many of her friends and family, a happy 99^th birthday.

I said she was a remarkable lady a moment ago, and I wasn’t just talking about the fact that Miss Belva has, since 1904, lived through a span of time which includes transportation evolving from the horse and buggy, to the automobile, to airplanes, to jets, and all the way to space travel and landing a man on the moon. She has also been witness to and seen the effects of World War I, World War II, Korea, Viet Nam, and the Gulf War, as well as today, being keenly aware of the looming war with Iraq.

But Belva Kyle is not just noteworthy for having been on this earth so many more years than the average person. What is truly remarkable, is the way she has spent all that time, always in the service of others. Whether you are talking about family, friends, acquaintances, fellow church members, coworkers, neighbors, and yes, even strangers, Miss Belva is kind and loving to them all.

At her birthday celebration last month, all of the above categories of people were represented. Belva’s son, her daughters, nieces, nephews, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and a host of friends and well wishers packed the Knotville Fire Department. The place was decorated beautifully, the cake and food were wonderful, and everyone there had a great time.

All through the party, Miss Belva sat near the front door, greeting each visitor as they came in or left. Amazingly, she knew everyone by name, and took a moment to ask about them or a member of their family. She was so pleased, so honored, and so humbled by all the attention, her face fairly lit up the room. I had the privilege of making a few remarks, and welcoming everyone to the party.

I was especially honored, because I was blessed to be one of the strangers Belva befriended, and has come to love. Believe it or not, Belva Kyle was already 92 years old when I first met her. Through a chance meeting and conversation, I learned that Miss Belva had become friends with my parents, Rev. C. S. and Cary Welborn, in the late forties, when my father was the pastor of Liberty Grove Baptist Church. I remarked to Belva that, all my life, people from that church had been kind and remembered my parents very fondly from their days at Liberty Grove.

As that first visit with Belva Kyle progressed, of course, I talked about missing my mother’s cooking. I suppose it was the cooking comment on which Belva chose to hang her hat, because, every since that day in 1996, she has been feeding me, and loving me.

In fact, I’m now considered one of the grandchildren.

It has been a joy getting to know Belva Kyle these last seven years, as she is simply amazing. She broke her hip in the winter of 1999. I feared she would never recover, but I badly underestimated her. She not only recovered but, in no time, she was once again out driving her blue Malibu coupe. One afternoon a couple of years ago, she and her little three-legged cane came walking into my office at The Record. When I asked what brought her to town, she teased me saying, “Well, you don’t come and see me often enough, so I came to you.” After a big hug and kiss, she told me she had just left the License Examiner, and had passed her driver's test to renew her license. As I was congratulating her, she made a comment I will forever remember as one which clearly shows her wonderful confidence and attitude. With a twinkle in her eye and an all-knowing smile Belva said, “Just think, Ken; I won’t have to go back there again 'till I’m 103.”

It is truly difficult to put into words how wonderful this little lady is. She never stops thinking about others. One day last week, I got a message that Belva was fixing lunch for me that day. Of course, I canceled any other plans I may have had. When I arrived at her home in North Wilkesboro, she was alone, and had apparently been cooking most of the night. What followed for lunch could only rightly be described as a feast.

She had fixed pan-fried chicken breasts, pinto beans, mashed potatoes, turnip greens, fatback, pickled beets, coleslaw and baked apples. In addition, there was a cake of hot cornbread with a thick crust, which was baked in an iron skillet. And, for the cornbread, there was butter—kept cold in the freezer, just the way Kenny likes it. I ate myself under the table, and had to be removed from her kitchen with a forklift.

Whether it is the Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, Christmas, or just a cold winter Thursday, Belva always makes me feel as though I am special to her. For whatever reason, she came into my life soon after I lost my parents in 1995. Today, I feel as though I have known her forever.

Happy 99^th birthday, Belva. I love you.

Many happy returns.

 

“An Unanticipated Surprise”

by John Setzer

Record Columnist

 

Writing a weekly column in “The Record” for a couple of months has generated an unanticipated surprise.

You might guess the required photo mug shot would create the welcome problem of instant recognition by total strangers on the street. Not so. Thank goodness the paparazzi are not hot on my trail – not yet. No, the surprise is that somebody likes the words I’ve chosen to use… and even likes me!

What’s happened is a dear older lady wants to meet me. Alas, she apparently subscribes to the philosophy that holds: IF YOU SEE IT IN PRINT, IT’S TRUE. I, on the other hand, stand firmly with Mark Twain, who said, “Never let the truth get in the way of a good story.”

“So what’s your problem, John?” This lady has decided I’m a “nice boy.” She told my wife she’s read every single word of every column I’ve written and, on the strength of my linking words together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, has concluded that I’ll pass character inspection. She said, “I’m looking forward to meeting your husband. Reading his column makes me feel like I already know him and I’m sure he’s a real nice boy.”

A small digression: “Boy” is a term I used to chafe under, back when I was one. But for the last several decades I’ve loved hanging out with my same-age cronies at a local coffee shop just to hear a grizzled granny of caffeine ask, “You BOYS want another cup?”

I never do, but I always say yes just to hear her question – makes me feel young all over more than anywhere else.

Do you know the name of Elmer Kelton? It may not be recognized east of the Mississippi. He’s a native Texan. Respected writer of Western novels. Lives in San Angelo – just a stone’s throw by Texas standards – from where I lived and labored in Midland for 18 years. Elmer is a stellar guy. Articulate. Witty. Deep. Wise. Do you get the impression that I like the man? You’re right. I do.

My initial impression of Elmer was formed long before I ever laid eyes on the fellow. I met him through his writings. Later, upon shaking his hand at a reception held at a museum dedicated to the preservation of 19^th century cowboy memorabilia where he was the guest speaker, my earlier hunches were confirmed. He is a thoroughly nice man, a grandfatherly type whom anyone would be honored to share coffee and conversation with.

He gave me his business card and asked me to give him a call sometime so we could lunch together. My cynical side wondered if he was just cultivating another potential customer for his many books? Or was he genuinely interested in me as a person? The latter, I became convinced.

Certainly I’m no Elmer Kelton, but perhaps this mystery lady is someone I need to meet, to know, to encourage, to learn from, to be blessed by. Who knows? Her absolutely accurate thinking that I’m a “nice boy” predisposes me to want to listen to whatever other good stuff she has to say. Maybe I’ll even get some fodder for another column.