By PAT KOVSKY-DOTSON
It might just be said that Pawpaw was the father of his clan, especially in my mind. Let me introduce you to this grandfather of mine. His name is Artimus Louis Holden, sometimes known as A.L. or Louis, but in later years it was always Pawpaw to all the family.
This man was born in the mountains of Gilmer County, Georgia around Ellijay as we know it today. His ancestors had migrated to these mountains years before and got their property in the Georgia Land Lottery.
Needless to say, these people were poor, trying to make a living by farming and a few livestock to feed their family. If you did not raise it on your land, you mostly did without.
Pawpaw must have had an especially hard time for when he was only 4 years old, his mother died and left a newborn baby sister for his father to care for. Back in that day, if a wife or husband died, the remaining spouse remarried quickly in order to exist. This is what my great-grandfather did. From that union came a large family of 10.
Now, my Pawpaw being the oldest and growing up during those years probably had a lot of responsibilities. I don’t know how much schooling he was able to get, but I do know he could read and write. I only wish I had been wise enough growing up to ask about his early life.
One story I know is that as a young boy he would drive cattle across the mountains to the Atlanta area to market. This is now known as Buckhead, though now hard to envision. It is also unbelievable to us that there were no roads at all in that day, so they made their own through the mountains. On these long, several-day trips they would take to sell nuts, apples, potatoes or whatever was available.
Of course, they had to camp at night and look after the livestock.
As it so happened, another family lived near to their property. As a matter of fact, their property lines joined. This was the family of James Chastain Akins. When he was of age, Pawpaw chose one of their daughters to be his wife. Thus, Nancy Malinda Akins (1880-1955) became my grandmother.
Their marriage, trip out of the mountains and honeymoon tell much about the style of living in those days. The story goes that Pawpaw and Mammaw were married in 1900, loaded the wagon of all their possessions and set out over the mountains to make a new life in Bartow County, Georgia, which was known as Cass County in that day. It seems that Pawpaw had some relatives living there and could help them get started and locate work. Their honeymoon was in a camping situation, for it took quite awhile to reach their destination.
I know nothing of their arrival nor their life there. I am sure that Pawpaw was either a farmer or sawmill hand. I do know that five of their children were born there and the youngest at another place.
At some time after most of his children were born, Pawpaw became very ill with typhoid fever and almost died. My father, being the oldest and a boy, had to drop out of school for a time to do the farm work, as this was a necessity for raising this large family. Family members helped them out with food and care.
Sometime after several children were grown, they moved to Eatonton, Georgia in the middle of the state where Pawpaw farmed and had a dairy business.
There, I first met my Pawpaw when I was very young and remember him for the first time when I was 2 or 3. At that age, I really did not know who he was, but only that he seemed to take a liking to me. At this time he was on the farm in Eatonton, and I certainly liked all that was available to me there.
Pawpaw had thick hair and even the first time I saw him it was snow white. Along with this white hair he had a matching white mustache. He was heavy set and always had on a denim shirt and faded overalls. He wore a worn felt hat that you dare not bother. In his later years he got around with a cane, wearing high top work shoes. Only on special occasions did we ever see him dress up, and then he had suspenders, pants and a Sunday hat. Pawpaw had his own ways, but that was fine with us, for after all, that was all he had ever known, and he was our Pawpaw.
On the farm there were hired hands who did the plowing, planting and harvesting, etc. Pawpaw had to tell them how and what to do, and certainly it was in his own way. They respected him and called him Mr. Holden in their Southern Georgia voice.
One of my most memorable events at Pawpaw’s took place on the front porch of the farm house. He had recently been injured in a car wreck and, of course, was disabled for a while. I was about 2 or 3 and was running around playing. All of a sudden, I decided to run into the house, slung the screen door open and it flew back and hit his injured leg. He must have yelled, for I went back to the porch and saw his injured thigh sort of bleeding and uncovered. I had never seen anything like this before, and I must have known I had injured his entire leg. He did not say a word to me, but I climbed up on the swing and cried and cried. I just knew I had killed my Pawpaw!
I loved hearing him call a missing cow to his dairy barn. I can still hear him say, “Come on cow-w-w-w-ws.” If that didn’t work, he would send Jack the dog and here they would come.
Adapting to the Southern Georgia way, he was a great barbecuer. From time to time he would throw a big barbecue and invite all the friends and family for a feast of pork and Brunswick stew and all the trimmings. Of course, he was in charge of cooking the pig all night long and making his own stew. I can still see him with his little mop making sure the sauce was in just the right place at the right time.
Everything was done the old time way, because that was Pawpaw’s way.
When I was 10 years old, they moved to another farm within five miles of our house. I was one thrilled kid! By this time, he was only 65 years old, but a hard life, illness, injury and hard work had probably taken a toll on him. He was still doing smaller chores, but the big farming was behind him.
Of course, still living in his own ways, he came with a cow, mule to use for plowing, chickens, hogs and whatever he thought was still needed. As I have said, Pawpaw was his own character, and he was always in charge of the farm. He had a deep gruff voice that could carry through the woods. He could certainly let you know how and what needed to be done. All this he brought with him, including the fact that everybody would starve to death without his ways of providing.
Here he could putter around the barn and do what chores he was able to do. You would sometimes catch him splitting kindling for the fires. He was never able to milk, but he surely could feed those hogs and other animals. At hog killing time, he had his own recipes for curing, making liver mush, sausage, etc. Champion old timer!
Pawpaw most always had a project going either for food or just for his pleasure. Most of the time it was for both! When the time came, the family had to step in and help. He had at one time a chicken house full of baby chicks, which grew up and laid enough eggs to send to market. Later, he saw some white rabbits and decided that they would be a project. He built cages, raised rabbits which were used for food just like we needed some more.
He could hoe some in the garden as well. One of the most heartbreaking, saddest stories I remember was after I was grown. He came into the house and said he guessed he would have to quit gardening. When I asked him why, he said he had just chopped down his tomato plants along with the weeds for he could not tell the difference. His eyes were failing him.
While all of this was going on, he probably had Ole Red the cow staked out in the front yard. This was his own way of mowing the grass. The cow and Pawpaw both won the prize!
Twelve noon would find Pawpaw in the living room with his battery radio going to the top of the house. He was almost deaf by then and would listen to the news with his ear up in the radio. In the afternoon he would listen to the gospel quartets of the day. He would never agree to watching television after they finally got electricity because it was a new invention and neither could he see it as he was almost blind by now.
Everyone in the family still remembers the big dinner (lunch) my aunt had to have on the table immediately after the news. There was always meat, many, many vegetables and a big pone of cornbread and, yes, also a big pone of biscuit, which was his way to have them cooked. Naturally, there was real butter, homemade jelly, and a wonderful fruit pie of some kind. He could eat all of this as well as anybody even though he had no teeth and would not allow his family to get him dentures.
Once because of high blood pressure they took him to the doctor. The doctor said, “Old Man, if you don’t quit eating so much pork you are going to die.” He said, “Huh, if I can’t eat what I want, then I had just as soon be dead!”
His favorite place to rest was the screened-in front porch. Why not? It was cool and was the gathering place for the whole family. This was where he did his bean stringing, pea shelling and lots of talking.
Occasionally, a friend would drop by and actually stay all afternoon. They would talk of old times, coon and rabbit hunts, out-do each other in farm tales, and talk about how the world was out of control.
As a lasting memory of the front porch days, we have in the family his porch chair that nobody else was allowed to sit in because it was “Pawpaw’s chair.” It was made by hand by someone and the posts, arms and legs were round like the wooden limbs and had a cane woven seat. It has been restored and “Pawpaw’s chair” is memory.
And speaking of his place to rest, his game to rest was checkers. It is hard to believe that being the work-driven man that he was, that he would finally resort to playing checkers as a pastime. The rules of the game were that you never beat him for this caused a stream of things that you probably did wrong in order to beat him. He was the champ! He knew it and so did his opponent. He really was the champion!
In about the 1950s they got electricity. I can’t remember his being so much against it, yet these were inventions which had never been a part of his life. When they bought him an electric razor it took him a long time before he tried to use it, but finally agreed it would shave you. He shaved in the bedroom because that was the way he always did it! Then came the telephone which he could not hear to use, nor cared to do so. He was not too impressed with the inside bathroom either. Old ways never die, and not with Pawpaw for he had his own ways.
The most precious story that I remember about Pawpaw happened when he was around 80. Most of the family was sitting around on the coveted front porch ‘tending to business of the day. This day was the discussion of needing a new roof on the house. This one suggested to Pawpaw their version of what kind of roof and so on another gave their version. Finally, my daddy said to him that his version of a new roof would cause too much repair in the future. I guess he must have wanted it because it did not cost so much. In reply to this, my aging grandfather replied, “That’s alright. When it needs to be repaired, about 20 years from now, I’ll just get me a ladder and climb up there and fix it!”
Pawpaw lived to know some of the first children in the second generation down. There are many stories to be told by the older children, but this one applies directly to Pawpaw.
When my youngest daughter was almost at the crawling stage, I would take a playpen when going to the farm and in the summer it was on the front porch. Pawpaw would tell me to pull it over to his chair so they could talk! Talk they did, with him talking baby talk to her in his deep voice, and she answering back with her baby jabber. They must have bonded, for when she was big enough to hunt Easter eggs, he would point them out to her with the tip of his walking cane.
All of our generations have some of Pawpaw in them, but with a different lifestyle. Some have his genes and health problems, and there is the cooking outside in his black pot along with barbecues.
There is still fishing and hunting, and most of us have gardens. Some of us like to sit around and spin tales. Yet some wear suits and ties to work, but they are all hard workers and provide for their family.
Generations come and generations go, but memories linger. This old white-haired gentleman made his mark on the family and except for some old time ways, we would do well to follow. As was stated in the beginning, genealogy has been recorded, and those of us who follow, are coming on down his line. Time marches on!