By Shirley Noe Swiesz
Originally published on Journey of a Mountain Woman
A lifetime friend of mine, Reggie Hall, was the son of a coal miner. He was one of seven children.
When his dad came down with a lung disease, probably black lung, and he could no longer work, his wife picked up the slack. She sewed for people and I remember once she had an old coca-cola ice chest and she bought large blocks of ice and sold snow cones to the neighborhood.
She, like so many in my day, was very frugal. Her mother had been married to my great grandfather and after he was killed in a bad storm by a falling tree, she later remarried and had three daughters. So Reggie’s mother learned from the best how to stretch a dollar.
She was a wonderful person, deeply devoted to her husband and children. She went to church at the little church on the hill where I went and often sang in church. Her family was musical and the children learned to play the piano on the church piano.
The oldest two boys were amazing guitar players and they won all the talent shows in high school.
Having seven children called for a lot of birthday parties and every kid in the neighborhood would be there. We would play games till dark and she seemed to enjoy them as much as the children. She baked the cakes and it was always a great party. I remember once I had no gift for the party so I took an old wooden container that had shaving soap in it that had been long used up. I cleaned it out and painted it silver. I was in the fourth grade. I talked to her a few years ago and she said she still had it.
Reggie loved comic books and we swapped often, for I was an avid reader of funny books.
Reggie passed a few years ago but we were good friends and when he visited Harlan he always came to see me. I miss him. Harold, the youngest boy, is the only boy still living.
I miss those old friends and the sound of our laughter still rings in my heart and mind.
Have a good evening and God bless!