To my Aunt Bessie Outlaw—born April 17, 1919, and died November 12, 2007:
Several months ago I wrote some of my memories of Aunt Bessie and today I would like to share them again. As a child I remember her as a beautiful lady, with red hair, silk skin,and she liked to sing. This is the lady I sought advice and shared different thoughts as I became a young woman. This is to the lady who babysat my babies and loved all of our children just as she loved all of us. In my memories I remarked that, after we lost our parents, this is the lady who was like a mother to all of us, she was the only parent left, now we are all orphans as we have just lost our last parent. She loved us all and was a true southern lady. Her last years here were filled with pain, both physical as well as of the heart. Old age brings loneliness in different degrees, whether real or imagined, it brings isolation as well as a feeling of being a burden. She never wanted to be a burden; not too long ago, she said that she always said when she got old she wanted to have her eyes to see, and her own teeth in her mouth. Her eyesight had dimmed, by 50% she agreed it still was not bad because she had her teeth! She had a lot more than teeth, she could still hold her own with the best, had her body had the strength to do so. I spoke with her about two weeks ago and she could still laugh. She always loved a good joke, and when she was down or feeling bad, a good joke would bring a laugh and perk her up. Sometime she would laugh until the tears ran down her cheeks. She was a good wife, mother, grandmother, sister, aunt, friend and neighbor. She was well respected in her community and loved by all her neighbors and will be missed by all of us. We all know she is in a better place, and she can walk without pain, she has a new body now, she has a new life.
Bessie Merrill (Robinson) Outlaw was born April 17, 1919 to Lou Alice Alexander and her husband William Robinson. She was a beautiful baby girl with sky blue eyes. William named his daughter Bessie Merrill after his wife’s first cousin. Bessie was the eighth of nine children, their third daughter and my Daddy's baby sister. The roots of this family ran deep into the South Georgia soil, where family values were bound by love for God, Country, family and a strong emphasis on education. Her father was a farmer and a schoolteacher. Bessie grew up on her parent’s farm near Oakey Grove in Berrien County, Georgia.
The years flew by and Bessie was a young lady of 14 when she met Buren Outlaw. His daddy had died when he was only eleven months old and his mother died before he reached the age of 15. His parents had left him and his brother a small farm south of Nashville, Georgia. His brother, W. H., was already attending college, studying to become a journalist (but became an educator instead). Buren had no desire to attend school. He wanted to farm and had already set his eyes on a pretty girl with red hair. They did not attend the same school, but he lived with his uncle who was the preacher where Bessie attended church. Love won, the Outlaw captured the red-haired girl and asked her to marry him. She said yes, but not before she was 18 would she marry! On her 18th birthday, April 17, 1937, Bessie Robinson joined the gang of Outlaws as an official member! In 1943, World War II was in full swing and they sold their little farm and moved to Tampa, Florida, to support the war effort. In 1944, after their youngest child Joan was born in October 1943, Buren was called to duty to serve in the U.S. Army, which eventually led to action in Germany. Bessie and their three children packed up their belongings, and moved back to Georgia to our grandparent’s farm where they stayed until January, 1946, when he returned home. They lived in the little honeymoon house to the North side of the big house until Granddaddy's health began to fail and they moved back into the house with Granny and Granddaddy, where they remained until moving back to Florida in 1956.
I have tried to recall my first remembrance of Aunt Bessie. I can't, she has just always been a very special part of my life. When I think about the many days and nights that I spent in her home as a child, I recall her bedroom with the tiny red roses all over the wallpaper. It was so delicate, and it tore so easily! I remember her big wardrobe and the smell of cedar on the inside. The door on the front had a long mirror, long enough to see all of me at one time! I recall how good she smelled, and how pretty she was. Uncle Buren was a big tease, very fond of children, had a real scratchy beard and delighted in rubbing his chin against your face for just “a little bit of sugar!”
She always sang a song and the only words I could remember were, “you don't have to be a soldier in a uniform to fight the battle over there.” Many years later, I asked her if she remembered the song and she did not . . . but I finally found it! I was driving home one day about three years ago, and heard those familiar words playing on the radio, it was the weekend before Christmas and everything was pre-recorded for the weekend programs. I called the radio station, a Christian station in Haines City and they located the CD in their bookstore. He was amazed that I knew the song, an old song titled WEAPON OF PRAYER, written by the Louven Brothers and Roy Acuff, and had just been re-recorded by a group called New Found Road. Weapon of Prayer was the bonus song added to the end of the CD. I ordered the CD as well as a tape because I wasn't sure which Aunt Bessie would be able to use and I could use either one. I was so excited to have found the song . . . . she couldn't remember it but promised to play it and see if she could. I'm not sure if she ever did, but I enjoy it and always get a feeling that I am five or six years old again every time I play it.
I loved staying with them, and one of the things I recall the most is the organ in the front guest bedroom. Joan and I would slip in there to play the organ, we could not sit on the bench and touch the peddles at the same time, so we would take turns, one would sit on the bench and play the keys and pull the pipes while the other sat on the floor and pumped the peddles. If we got caught we got into big trouble, but not enough that we didn't do it again. There was a big green grocery truck that came to the house with everything you could imagine. Granddaddy’s favorite candy was peppermint, and he always kept a big stick on the left side of the mantel over the fireplace. When he would say come on over here, I waited in anticipation for him to pull his pocketknife from his right pocket and hit the candy to break off a small piece for us. I can still close my eyes and here the sound of his knife as it “cracked.” We carry on this tradition every year at our home there is always a red peppermint candy stick on the left side of the mantle over the fireplace, in remembrance of our granddaddy as well as a wonderful part of childhood. Just weeks before my ninth birthday, we moved to Florida leaving Aunt Bessie’s family in Georgia. The following year, in January 1956, they moved to Highland City, and to our delight, only one block away. Uncle Jessie and Aunt Minnie were their next-door neighbors.
They bought a new home on Hedge Drive and moved in September 1960. That was a busy month to move into a new home, and their house-warming gift was two new grandsons, David and Jim, one new great niece named Diane, and one hurricane named Donna. The first two weeks in the new house they had no electricity. Just two short years after moving into the house, Buren became very ill, and the next 14 years would bring many changes in their life. He passed away February 28, 1976.
Over the years, she has been a gracious friend, neighbor, wife, mother and grandmother. She loved to cook good southern cooking and was always the first one there with a big pot of something if there was a death or sickness. There was nothing she enjoyed more than cooking a big southern meal with sweet tea and plenty of dessert that would put Paula Dean and Sons to shame! The thing she really liked was to see nothing left on the table except empty bowls and clean plates, and empty pots to wash! Her health had steadily declined the last twenty years or so, and she felt bad that she couldn't cook like before. She remained at home until recently when she had a fall and went into the hospital. She could not return home alone so after a brief stay in rehab she went home with Mike and Tammy to Conway, S.C. She enjoyed being with Mike and Tammy and when she died he was holding her hand, her great big generous heart just gave way. She was tired, after almost 32 years she has joined Uncle Buren and her pain is gone. She was proceeded in death by her parents; her husband Buren; her brothers, Shannon, Mitchell, Jessie, Snyder, Roy, and John; her sisters Vida Mae Gay and Mildred Hamilton; her youngest daughter, Joan Mann; and several nieces and nephews. What a reunion that will be!
She is survived by her son, Fayne Outlaw and spouse, Jean, of Whittier, N.C.; daughter Alisha Smart and spouse, Charlie, of Conway, S.C.; five grandsons, Michael O'Riley and spouse, Tammy, Jimmy O'Riley and spouse, Pam, Wayne Mann and spouse, Sherry, Richard Mann and spouse, Keta, David Outlaw and spouse, Cathy; and granddaughter, Shelia Mann Honaker; fourteen great-grandchildren and seven great-great grandchildren. She is also survived by an aunt, Mrs. Bertha Belflower; a sister-in-law, Minnie Robinson; and numerous cousins, nieces and nephews. She leaves many family members and neighbors who encouraged her and enabled her to live the independent life she loved at her home. All who knew her easily recognized the way she could cut her eyes at you and, without a doubt, there was no question as to where you stood, in or out of grace with her. She also had the warmest, loving look that let you know the same thing.
This room is filled with people from all walks of life. Some of us are related, some of us are friends and neighbors, and there are a few strangers among us; however, we all have one reason in common for being here at this particular time. We are here to celebrate, not to mourn. We are here to celebrate the life of Bessie Outlaw. I hope by the end of the day, each and every one of us will have exchanged introductions and memories of this wonderful woman. We will miss her, but we will look back with fond memories of her . . . .”Miss” Outlaw, my Aunt the Outlaw, a gracious southern lady.
Love,
Lola
(Minor editing by nephew Bill Outlaw for consistency with other parts of Southern Matters.)
