Political Controversy

Isn't it bizarre what an election or politics can do to people?  Of course, Goose Creek Island is not exempt from their fair share of election or political controversies.  Some recent research about the Island as provided such a story. Me and my sister Heather found a newspaper article about an incident pertaining to a certain government building involving some former Island characters.  What was even more bizarre was this newspaper article was in the Washington Post.  We just loved the title of the story!!  For those of you who have the 1974 Goose Creek Islander history book, you have read the story about The Night in Jail. Well...as Paul Harvey would say....here's the rest of the story.

“Watson's "Disciples" Held.” The Washington Post. East Carolina University Joyner Library, October 1,1917. Web. October 18, 2012.

Telling Our Stories

  
   How many times has each of us heard the story about when the creek froze over? Or the night that Roland Styron ran off the draw bridge?  On Goose Creek Island, there are people who have a knowledge - a way of knowing details of events or even the knowledge of a skill, a skill that has come from experience or has been passed down from generations.  These people are much treasured resources who can share their story.
     I  have begun an oral history project to record these stories of our Island residents.  Their memories have evolved from firsthand knowledge and experience.  Their memories is what creates and shapes our Island life.  Memories of bygone days of fishing, activities that happened at church or at school, working in the fields or at the fish houses, or even stories of tragedy and triumph are valuable to our Island history and heritage. The voices, pictures and the written word are links to our culture and history.
     On Saturday, November 10th, the first storytelling event will take place on Goose Creek Island. Because it is Veteran's Day Holiday, it was only fitting that the first event reflect the memories of our Island veteran's.  Gene Lupton and Floyd Campen have graciously volunteered to let us record their stories.  We are hoping Freddie Lewis will join them as well.  These gentlemen were champions for our country and today are champions in our Island communities. The storytelling event is open to everyone who "wants to hear a story".
     Everyone has a story.  It doesn't have to be historical fact.  It can be a memory of growing up, what happened at work or at home.  Even a story about difficult times and times of rejoicing.  Telling our stories represents a lifetime of unique history.  It provides meaning and identity to "who we are".  I hope you will join us in what we hope will be a series of many more storytelling events on the Island.

The Devil's Hole

I had the pleasure over Homecoming weekend to spend some time with Juston Lewis. Juston told a story about The Devils Hole.  Here is his story.  Maybe some of my readers will remember this old tale.

Juston Lewis, interview October 21, 2012, Middle Prong Rd.

" I tell you, when I was a young boy, some of the old people, they had a way of trying to scare the h*%# out of you about things.  It used to be they'd talk about a hole up here in the swamp...a devil's hole. The old people would tell you, "if you keep on being bad, we're going to take you up there and throw you in it. (laughing) It didn't take us long to 'straighten up'!" 

Long Lost Cousins...A Bridge to the Past

Rev. Harold Lewis embracing a lost cousin 1979. His sister Mabel Lewis Carawan on right.  
Photo courtesy Lewis Family Collection (C)

     It has been well over a year ago since I began work on my family tree and other projects concerning the people, places, and events of Goose Creek Island.  Posting pictures in the Goose Creek Island Album on Facebook has been a wonderful resource to connect families and discover pieces of family history that otherwise I would have considered lost.  It's amazing how ALL of us on the Island is connected in so many different ways.
     My roots stem from Goose Creek Island and North Creek, "over the river" in Beaufort County.  Even my Beaufort County roots are on this Island as well.  The Lewis', Potter's, Howerin's, Sadler's, Carawan's, Williamson's, and Foreman's are well rooted here.  Most of my ancestors can be traced back to Hyde County.  On the Lewis side, I have traced my paternal heritage all the way to Shackleford Banks and the Colonial Albemarle region.  On the maternal side, I have traced them to Jamestown, Isle of Wight County, VA and to Cornwall, England.
     Of all the people and personalities who make up my family tree, I have found a wealth of information from the Facebook Album.  In my family tree research, I had come to a stop on my great great great grandmother Melissa O'Neal Carawan, wife of Bernard Carawan.  Most recently, a long lost cousin Paul Watson, posted a comment on the Album that finally shed some light on my research.  Melissa died in December 1882 from an epidemic sweeping the southside of Pamlico River. She, along with her son-in-law John Thomas Campen, were buried up the Pamlico River at Ragged Point, known today as Goose Creek State Park. Without Paul's generous knowledge, I don't think I would have found this information.
    Long lost cousins, whether you reconnect with them in person or through social networks like Facebook, can provide a bridge to our past.  During homecoming weekend, it was good to talk with some older cousins that I had not seen in long time and to meet new ones that I had never met before.  What was evident, regardless how the interaction occurred, once I began to converse and reminisce with my lost cousins, the more it felt like we had known each other forever.  Richard Lewis of Elizabeth City, son of Marcus Lewis, emailed me this morning and those were his exact words, "I feel I have known you all my life!"  Even though his father and my grandfather Mike Lewis were the closest of cousins, finding my cousin Richard will open up a whole new chapter in our family history.
    All of my genealogical and Island research has provided me with a well rounded picture of my family and the Island.  But pouring over numerous papers and family trees has also provided a disappointment - I will never meet my ancestors who I feel I have come to know through my research.  But despite that disappointment, meeting long lost cousins has provided me with something far greater than I will have ever known.
     These long lost cousins can shed more light on my research, fill in gaps, possibly provide unseen photo's and documents.  I hope they too begin to share a passion of our family and Island history.  I feel lucky that I have been able to find them and hope my research continues to find more.
     If you are looking for long lost cousins, I would like to prepare you of what you may find.  You may find a long lost cousin who "knows they are lost" and are blissfully aware of their predicament.  Then you will find a cousin who has been looking for you (although they might not know it is you they have been looking for, do you follow?).  But either way, your long lost cousins can become a family historian to your search through the past.
     I am proud to say that I have always had in interest in people, family and friends.  I have found that the closer we can get to our ancestors, the more we can enrich our family history.  But most importantly, I have learned this, no matter where you start from or where life takes you, choose to be happy; choose to know where your roots are from. Because you never know, one day knowing your roots can provide you the greatest joy in your life. 

Homecoming Photos

If you were unable to attend this past weekend's Homecoming on Goose Creek Island, you truly missed a wonderful weekend home.

Mary Kirk, Edith Ballance Kirk, Mildred Ballance Fulford, and Wendy Fulford sporting their Goose Creek Island t-shirts.  Thanks for all your hard work and dedication! Photo Courtesy Wendy Fulford

Elvis, also known as Crab Potter , also known as the Mayor of Minnesott Beach, also known as Joshua "Muff" Potter, Jr. Photo courtesy Joy Williams Guidry.

                           Old Tugboaters. O.B. Howerin and Roscoe Rice.  Roscoe Rice is the oldest resident on the Island.              Photo courtesy O.B. Howerin.

These gals sure did have a good time.  Photo courtesy O.B. Howerin

Martha and Floyd Campen.  Thank you both for your participation in the annual Homecoming Play.  Photo courtesy of Joy Williams Guidry.

Jennifer Sanderson Alcock sings How Great Thou Art at Homecoming Church Services.  Photo courtesy of Wendy Fulford.

Roxanna and Juston Lewis travel home often to Juston's boyhood home.  They were here from Suffolk enjoying Island family and fellowship.  Photo courtesy of Shirley Mayo Ireland.

See what you missed?  Of course Goose Creek Islanders are the best cooks in the world.  Photo courtesy of Wendy Fulford

       

      

Reconnect, Celebrate and Remember. Homecoming 2012

Photo courtesy William Odell "Capt. Dell" Spain

          I have had a hard time today trying to get accounts settled, paperwork in order and notes completed to get out of this office.  I am heading to the Island tomorrow afternoon, Goose Creek Island that is. It's Homecoming weekend!
     I haven't been to Homecoming in quite a few years.  I can still recall the mounds of fried shrimp and softcrabs lining the table.  How could I ever forget Emily Ballance's delicious chicken and pastry; I headed for that pot first thing!  How about all those wonderful desserts and pies that would beckon me to try a slice of each.
     My ride to Goose Creek Island will be begin in Down East, a place that has strong ties to the Island. I'll head west towards Core Creek and then make the turn North to catch the Cherry Branch/Minnesott Beach ferry.  I'll take in the view of the mighty Neuse and come ashore "where the land and the sea meet the sky". I'll cruise through Bayboro, reminisce about my school days and then make the turn.  The turn to journey home.  It's amazing how that ride has changed but yet so much still feels the same.
    In the distance just past Gales Creek Bridge, the Island will come into view. Crossing the bridge, I'll take in the beautiful view of Jones Bay and make the quick glance "up the canal" to see if any boats are starting their annual migration South.
     This weekend is going to be a dandy of a Homecoming.  The first one since Hurricane Irene slammed into our shores just a little over a year ago. It's hard to explain, but when you leave something good, you can never wait to get back.  It's where memories are sweetened with love and affection and where good friends and good times are our reward.  It's the kind of place where it's never hard for home folks to talk you in to coming back...and come back soon!
     In each mile that I'll drive to get home, the more I will leave behind all the paperwork.   I'll be driving towards something that has been meaningful to my life, my upbringing, my raising.  It doesn't matter what I am going to do when I get there, it's just being there that matters.
     So before I go, if there is anyone else out there heading home...no matter where your home is, THIS IS FOR YOU!  No matter where our special places are, I'm sure there's someone there waiting to see you!
     Godspeed and God Bless
            Tina
     

Chester Lupton, A Lowland Boy in Spirit and Heart

Chester Lupton in his electric car.  Photo courtesy Mike Lewis Collection.

During my childhood, I vividly remember Mr. Chester Lupton driving his little electric car down the road.  He was one of the folks in our past that represented an iconic image of being fully accepted by all of the people of Island.  You see, Mr. Chester was born severely handicapped in 1918. Driving his little car, he would stop along the way and speak to anybody who was in their yard or passerby’s who would stop to talk with him.  Mr. Chester died in 1994 at the age of 76…a truly remarkable age for an individual with his disabilities.  Below is his graveside eulogy given by Rev. Merritt Watson.

Chester Edward Lupton

Born: September 27, 1918       Died: October 28, 1994

Graveside Service at Watson Cemetary, Lowland N.C.

Merritt Watson, Minister

            Dear family and friends, we are gathered here today in loving memory of Chester Edward Lupton, who was born on September 27, 1918 and who died on Friday, October 28, 1994. We come to this place to remember a person, who though in age was fully a man, yet remained forever a boy to most who knew him and loved him.

            When Chester was born in 1918, he was born severely handicapped.  He could not walk.  He could barely talk. Only those who knew him well could understand when he tried to communicate.  Yet in his mind, Chester was every bit the man and person that the rest of us are.  He had his own personality, his likes and dislikes. He was in many ways a quite unique person.

            For most of his life, Chester was lovingly and tenderly cared for by his mother, Minerva Watson Lupton.  Only a little over a year ago, we were here together for her funeral.  At the age of 102, she was compelled to leave behind the son who had been her constant companion since his birth.  Though in failing health, Chester was also here, fully aware that he was saying goodbye to his beloved mother.

            I am confident that many of his family and friends were concerned about how he would manage in her absence.  Though he deeply missed her, Chester managed quite well. In the nursing home where he and his mother had moved some years ago, he found consolation in the visits of his family and friends, and in those people around him who loved him and who helped care for him.

            My own memories of Chester are almost as old as my life.  I remember as many of you do, the push cart made for him.  It had a long pole which someone could take and pull or push.  Often times when there was no one to pull the cart, you could see Chester pushing himself backwards, using his feet or a hoe with a shortened handle, making his way slowly toward Howard Lupton’s store.

            Chester loved to be out doing things.  He loved the summer days when he could work in the yard. He and his mother and father would often come to this cemetery and work, helping to tend the graves of family and friends.  Chester was not one to just watch.  He would have his hoe and he also would be chopping at the weeds.

            In the mid 1950’s, a very special thing happened to Chester.  His uncle, Randolph Watson, had an electric cart made for him.  He took Chester to Bayboro to the feed mill he owned and put Chester in a large storage room with sacks of feed all around where he could not hurt himself.  Chester was put in the cart, shown how it worked, and then given room and time until he learned to work the machine as an expert.  The electric cart became his pride and joy, and he didn’t appreciate anyone messing with it.  It gave him a mobility and independence he had not fully known before.

            Chester loved also to be among people.  He liked coming to the store and sitting under the stoop. He knew he would get a lot of attention there, for everyone coming to the store would greet him, and the men would often carry on with him.  Sometimes their teasing worried him.

            On one occasion they worried him with tales of how the highway patrol would get him if they saw him driving his electric cart down the road.  He came home quite upset and agitated.  Everyone tried to understand why he was so upset, and all they could understand was something about ‘up and down the road”.  Finally someone asked was he talking about a patrolman and he nodded his head yes.  He then was assured by everyone that he had nothing to worry about. His little cart was perfectly legal for the roads of Lowland.

            Chester never lost his interest in people. Even after he and his mother moved to the nursing home in Edenton, he would ask about the people he knew back home.  He had a way of communicating with signs. He would rub his leg from his knee to his thigh when he was asking about someone in particular. And those who knew him well would begin to name the people they thought he was asking about, and he would nod his head when at last the right person was named.  He kept up to date as best he could with what was going on in the community.  He even would ask about the proposed new bridge and how progress on it was coming along.

            For me the best memories I have of Chester are of his coming to church on Sunday.  He would drive up in his cart and wait until a couple of the men to lift him and help carry him inside.  He liked going to church because he was among people he loved and who loved him.  He would often come in the building laughing because someone was saying something funny to him or because of the special attention he was getting.  In ways that he probably never knew, Chester was a blessing to everyone here.

            Chester would take home with him the church paper called The Lookout, and he would not rest until his mother read it to him.  He enjoyed hearing his mother read to him and she often did.  Though handicapped in body, his mind was active and alert.  He never lost his interest in what was happening around him.  There was about him an innocence and simplicity that all of us can truly admire.

            Someone who was to him ‘a best friend’ remarked to me that Chester was blessed beyond measure.  When you think of the way his life was handicapped, it may not seem so.  But when you think of his special qualities, and what I believe to be his special standing before his community and his God, I think that he was indeed blessed.

            In the gospel of Matthew we read of an occasion when the disciples of Jesus were disputing about who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.  Jesus called to himself a child and put that child in the midst of them and he said: “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child, he is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 18:1-4)

            In some ways, Chester was always a ‘boy” in spirit and in heart. It is not prerogative or yours to say that he was innocent before God.  Nonetheless it seems to me that Chester could well have been the child that Jesus called to himself and put in the midst of his disciples. Humble in spirit, zealous in love, never failing in his concern for others, his is truly an example of those who achieve greatness in the kingdom of heaven.

            For this reason we are content and confident in leaving to God’s grace and care the now departed spirit of Chester.  The God, who in Jesus Christ said, “Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them; for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven” surely stands with open arms to welcome this, his child home.  Now free from all the impediments of this life, Chester has gone home to a loving God, and we rejoice today in his new found freedom.