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| George Buster Singleton |
(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator
George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere
in Time.” The column below, which was titled “Fond memories of Aunt Lellia” was
originally published in the Nov. 19, 1987 edition of The Monroe Journal in
Monroeville, Ala.)
She was a tall woman, mulatto-skinned with long braids of
hair hanging down her back. She was in excellent health despite her advanced
years. There were those who said that she was well over 70, and then there were
those who said that no one rightly knew just how old Aunt Lellia was.
But one thing was for sure: there was always an air of mystery
around this woman. And for a boy of six, there wasn’t anything in the whole
world that Aunt Lellia didn’t know about.
I can see her now – tall, straight, with eyes that seemed to
look right through you, especially when you did something wrong. That look got
your attention.
She didn’t talk much unless she liked someone; then she
would talk for hours on end about the past years and the many things that could
keep a young boy’s attention. I knew beyond a shadow of doubt that she was the
smartest person who lived anywhere.
Tales and legends
She would sit for hours and unfurl the tales and legends of
her early years. The stories she told would raise the hair along the neck of
the boy who absorbed every word.
She could walk like no one else. Her pace was such that I
had to trot just to keep up with her. The long, straight walking stick was
never used to assist in her walking. The stick rarely touched the ground. When
asked why she carried it at all, the answer was that if she needed it, she
would have it with her.
Always, across her left shoulder, hanging by a stout strap,
Aunt Lellia carried her mystery satchel. There was always many good things that
came out of that satchel. Things like parched peanuts, roasted pecans, popcorn
candy sweetened with honey, and many other goodies.
Also in that satchel of mystery were carried all the
medicines and cures for almost any ailment. There was the black, evil-smelling
salve that was always used for a stumped toe, which happened quite often. A
certain piece of bark that you chewed, should you have the toothache. Then
there were the everyday cures for sorehead on the chickens. And a certain grass
that, when boiled, was an ideal spring tonic. Aunt Lellia had a remedy for
everything; she had the cure for it all.
Background was a mystery
No one knew just where Aunt Lellia came from. She didn’t
talk much about this subject – only the times past. Never did she mention her
family during her early childhood. She and her husband had come through the
area where I was raised and had settled near our homeplace.
Aunt Lellia delivered me when I was born. I have heard the
story many times. I was born on a rough and stormy night. Due to road conditions
and the fact that I was two weeks early, and the lack of communications, the
family doctor didn’t get the word in time. Aunt Lellia was summoned as a midwife.
I was, in some way, very special to this wonderful woman.
Since she had no children of her own, she called me her “baby.” I was to learn
over the years that this privilege of being called “baby” brought with it many
benefits that would have otherwise been denied, and had I not been her
favorite. Because of this, I had access to all the patience and knowledge that
Aunt Lellia possessed.
A lifetime friendship
When Aunt Lellia’s husband passed away many years before,
she was left alone. Since she had no family to look after her, she became almost
totally dependent on my family for survival. This was no problem because one or
two extra around at mealtime at our house didn’t make any difference. There was
always plenty of good homecooked food for everyone. And my mother saw to it
that Aunt Lellia had the things that she needed. A bond of friendship between
these two was to last a lifetime. Aunt Lellia was always there to help.
Since I was the youngest, the baby of the family, many of my
teachings about everyday life were administered by this stern and wonderful
woman. The times that I would get spanked when I was naughty, would end up with
me getting petted and hugged. These hugging sessions quickly taught me that during
these times I could utilize many other side benefits also. I could get almost
anything I wanted if I cried just right.
The years passed, and Aunt Lellia became more and more
dependent upon her walking stick. Her step became slower, her walks not so far.
She became quieter. She often spoke to me about her taking a long journey. Being
young and full of energy, I didn’t realize that she spoke of death and the
passing from this life. Her talk of traveling beyond the sunrise seemed strange
to me.
Saying goodbye
Then that day in May, the day after my graduation from high
school, I saw Aunt Lellia for the last time. I told her goodbye prior to boarding
the bus and beginning the journey that would eventually end at the Marine training
barracks at Parris Island, S.C.
I wasn’t told of her death until my first leave home. I was
told then, also, about a promise made between her and my mother several years back.
Just before her plain and simple coffin was closed forever, a tiny photograph
of a small, barefoot boy was placed almost unnoticed by the side of this gentle
and sleeping woman. The promise had been fulfilled. Aunt Lellia’s wish had been
granted.
(Singleton, the author
of the 1991 book “Of Foxfire and Phantom Soldiers,” passed away at the age of
79 on July 19, 2007. A longtime
resident of Monroeville, he was born to Vinc
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