Gentle Reader, since seeing the News issue of 3 April, with the obituary of Sandra Caillouette Houston, I have intended to wrote about her mother, Julia (Mrs. Harry) Caillouette.
But when I picked up that issue of the News preparing to write this column, I realized just how many ladies of my acquaintance were written about in that issue, either in celebration or in sadness. First, on page two was Edna Mae McCarroll’s 99th birthday on 6 April. Edna had a long career with the Harriman Police Department. As soon as she found out that I was a member of the McCarroll Clan, we addressed each other as cousin. It was always a joy to see her as she showed what a woman could do in the police force.
Then on page 6 in addition to the Houston obituary there was the obituary of Ida Mariah Harrison, who was born a Moore and thus was kin to both the large Harrison family by marriage and the large Moore family by birth, all as indicated by the listing in the obituary, many of whom still live in Kingston, and add to our community.
While on page 7, sports, the editor’s leading sports story is the Kingston women’s softball team’s victory over McMinn Central.
Then an even longer story of success of the female persuasion featured Kingston Lady Jacket standout Braxton Fritz, signing with Maryville College.
And finally, on that same page with a two-column picture, is a photo of Barbara Pickering and Ken Altes, with the title “Senior Bowlers end March like a lion.” For those who do not know, Barbara is a long-time resident of Kingston, but like the old curmudgeon, she is a native-born citizen of Emory Gap, and in fact for a time, many years ago, she and he were next door neighbors, although she was younger than I, and obviously much, much better looking.
But it was the mention of the name of the lovely Julia Caillouette that brought them all to mine, and prompted this article.
I initially met Julia when I first went to the old Court House to vote, after I had moved my office to Kingston, and changed my legal residence to the office on Court House Square. Then I qualified to vote in Kingston as a landowner in Kingston, which at that time you could do under the charter.
Julia was a faithful election worker, and as such she wanted to know who I was and why I was there. So, we got to know each other pretty well from that first encounter, and we were on the way to becoming friends.
It got to the point that the rest of the ladies at the voting tables knew that I was going to wait for Julia to wait on me, and that Julia was going to wait on me for we had to catch up on anything that had happened since the last election or otherwise. If anyone was upset about any delays, they never spoke up, at least not to me.
But Julia was special, and the fact that she was special is illustrated by the following anecdote I think:
You may remember, or have at least heard about, the big hurricane that struck the Gulf Coast in 1969, I believe it was, called Hurricane Camille. It struck off coast where the city of Biloxi, Mississippi, is located.
Earlier, I had driven a couple of times along the coast on the way to Mobile and had stopped at Biloxi, and stayed there once for Mardi Gras, so I was fond of the place. Thus, when I heard on the news that Biloxi had been hard hit by Camille, I was curious as to just what damage had been done.
After thinking about it a few days, I decided I would just go down to Biloxi and see for myself just what damage a hurricane could do, and what damage this particular hurricane had done. So, I packed a bag, gassed up the car and headed south.
Friends, I now know what a hurricane can do, for I saw what it had done. I saw two story houses turned upside down and carried yards away. I saw a beach-side motel that I had slept in that had all of it insides blown out and away, leaving only concrete slabs, supported by concrete pillars with no walls whatsoever.
But, in driving around, I have seen huge Live Oak Trees with no apparent damage, near other trees uprooted. It was one of these experiences that lead to this anecdote:
I was slowly driving along a street a couple of blocks inland from the beach that had mixed appearances, some severe damage, some very little obvious damage.
I came upon a spacious lot with five or six large Live Oak Trees with no obvious damage and a large “For Sale” realtor’s sign. Out of curiosity, I stopped and got out of the car and strolled over the lot where I saw that there was a basement where the house that had been there had clearly blown away.
At this point, a lady emerged from the house next door, which appeared not to have been damaged. She walked towards me and asked if I was interested in buying the lot. I replied that I was just looking.
She then asked where I was from. “Tennessee,” I replied.
“Where in Tennessee?” She asked. “Kingston,” I answered.
To my surprise her words were, “O, Do you know Julia Caillouette?”
It developed that she and her husband, like Julia and her husband Harry, were owners of an oil distributorship and that they met regularly at business meetings and conferences, and had become close friends, and would I please buy the lot and build a house on it because any friend of Julia’s would have to be a good neighbor! Despite this kind invitation, and love of Live Oak’s I decided I was not built for hurricane resistance, and passed up on the opportunity to become a Biloxi landowner.
As I recall, when I told Julia of the lady’s high praise, she reciprocated.
I wish that reading all obituaries brought back pleasant memories such as this one of Julia Caillouette’s daughter did.
The opinions expressed in this column do not reflect the views of this newspaper.
