Little Eva
A few months ago, right before the pandemic struck, at a restaurant here in Hattiesburg, I bumped into an old classmate from my Home School days in Big Level. Delaney Walker and his family were coming into Ed’s Burgers as my wife and I were leaving. I didn’t recognize him and would’ve walked right on by had he not spoken, greeting me by name. Even then I couldn’t place him or recall his name. Thankfully, he sensed my confusion and introduced himself. After a few words of catching up, we parted—he still lives in Big Level, I moved away at age 19, was gone 35 years, and settled in Hattiesburg upon retirement in ’08. I was struck, awed really, with how quickly he recognized me, particularly in that we had not seen each other in five decades. I was equally struck, though saddened, by how slow I was to place him. Later that evening, while reflecting on this brief two- or three-minute encounter, I pulled out an old class photo just to see how much we’ve changed over the years. I quickly got lost in a wave of nostalgia.
Of the half a dozen or more pictures I could have chosen, this one depicting the 23 students in the Second Grade at Home School in the 1960-61 academic year is one of my favorites. Over half of these students went to school with me for 12 years, both at Home School in Big Level and also at Stone High in Wiggins, and several were enrolled with me in junior college at Perk. I could recount stories about most of the individuals represented here, but while many of those tales are meaningful to me, most wouldn’t hold any interest to others. Even so, I love looking at these smiling young faces. (At least, some were smiling; a few of us were fixated on the birdie.) Seeing them, I can easily recall the many wonderful moments we shared ‘back in the day,’ as we made our way through adolescence to young adulthood. There were antics in the classroom and on the playground. There were exploits on the ballfields and in the gym. There were numerous school plays and other programs and assemblies in the auditorium. There were memorable times on the bus—those daily trips to and from school, the road trips to away basketball games, and those field trips and end-of-school class outings.
The Second Grade page from the 1960-61 Home School annual (Big Level, Mississippi). That’s my 7-year-old self in the center of the second row. It just occurs to me that if these yearbook portraits were taken in October of 1960—a reasonable assumption—then my classmates and I were as close then to the end of the 1800s as we were to today here in October 2020. Makes the head spin, doesn’t it?
Among this group, I see my 2nd cousin Joel Miles. Though I haven’t seen him in years, we were once quite close. We were suitemates at Perk our sophomore year of college, and he was a groomsman in my wedding. He’s currently the mayor of Wiggins. [Note to self: I should give him a call.]
I see Paula Skelton. She was my girlfriend in the first grade, so she told me. I didn’t mind; she sure was fun and cute. She also told me that Red Skelton was her uncle; her family moved away from Big Level after the second grade so I never discovered the truth about that. Not long ago I tried to Google the question, hoping to find a possible kinship, but I came up with nothing conclusive. Intriguingly though, I discovered that Red had a brother named Paul. So, did Paul Skelton have a daughter named Paula? I’ve decided I don’t really want to know. She told me that Red was her uncle, so I believed her. I still do.
I see Janet Hatten. In the first grade, she and I got our hands slapped by Mrs. Bullard’s foot-ruler for laughing and talking across the table. We shared many laughs over the years. As a teenager, I worked at her dad’s country store for a couple of summers. Janet and I were still making each other laugh across the lunchroom table as seniors at Stone High.
I see Wayne Jetton. He and I shared a lot of the same sensibilities—maybe we still do, though I couldn’t say since I haven’t seen him since high school. In the 9th Grade, he introduced me to Edgar Rice Burroughs “John Carter of Mars” series of novels. I wonder if he still likes science fiction as much as I do? Wayne reached out to me on Classmates.com just a few months ago and we shared a couple of messages. [Another note to self.]
I see Carolyn Corey. I have to confess that I can’t place her, but just this spring she found her way to my blogsite and left a kind comment on my first piece saying that her father died in 1960 and that she moved to Leaf in Greene County after the second grade. [Carolyn, I’m sorry I don’t remember you, but I do so appreciate hearing from you. I hope you’re still following my blog.]
I see David and Danny. I had school-night sleepovers at their houses and later summer jobs with both of them. I see Kendall and Joe and Dewayne. I see Cindy and Lois Ann and Billie Ruth and the others. I would love to hear from each one and find out what kind of life they’ve had. [Note to readers: If you can fill me in on some of these individuals, please send me an email; I’d love to hear from you.]
But wait… I also see Eva Gayle Wells. Right there on the bottom of this photo, cute as a button with those blonde curls, big bright eyes, and that kilowatt smile—pure sweetness wrapped up in a petite package. Though a bit tomboyish at times, she was all girl. She and Janet were best friends and, like Janet, Eva Gayle could always make me laugh. She was also a member of our lunch-table group in high school. She and I did our share of flirting back and forth throughout our twelve years of school together, but we never dated. That’s because Sharon had been my girlfriend from the 6th Grade on through high school—she and I were steadies until the middle of my senior year. But as for Eva, there was that one time. . .
Once, Eva Gayle and I did get together. It wasn’t a date as such, more of an impromptu night out. It was a Friday in late September during my first semester at Perk; classes had started at the college only a few weeks before. Leaving the campus dorm that afternoon on my motorcycle, I rode into Big Level and stopped by Hatten’s Grocery, the country store where I’d worked all summer. I needed to gas up, but my real reason for stopping was that I was anxious to find out what had been happening around the store since school had started. I also wanted to see which of my friends might be hanging out there. While shooting the breeze with Chubby, Janet’s dad and my former employer, he said that he was taking Janet and his son, Terry, down to a Biloxi High football game and invited me to go with them. I had no interest in either team but the chance to go to the coast and have something to do on a Friday night sounded good to me, so I scurried on home to clear it with Mama and see if I could borrow her car. After cleaning up and snagging a quick bite, I drove back to the store to meet them. As I climbed into their car I was surprised to see that Eva Gayle was also along for the trip. I’d not seen her since graduation in May. But there we were, three old friends sharing the backseat, picking up were we left off just a few months before in the SHS cafeteria.
I can’t recall now anything about the actual game that night, not the score or who the opponent was or even who won. What I do remember is that it became increasingly chilly as the game progressed and Eva kept snuggling up to me. I didn’t mind that at all. No sir, not a’tall. I was fully reciprocative.
The ride back to Stone County was uneventful and quiet. Eva Gayle was next to me in the backseat this time and the snuggling and cuddling continued for most of the return trip. There was a mutual attraction that had been all but ignored during our twelve years of school together. And now in that all-too-brief evening it couldn’t be ignored. In fact, as we neared the store, she whispered in my ear to ask if I could drive her home. I was certainly willing and did. The fact that it was 20 miles out of my way made no difference a’tall. No siree, Bob.
The unexpected sweetness of that evening, almost 50 years distant, still lingers, but, sadly, that was the last time I saw Eva Gayle. The following week I was back at school and back to business as usual—or so I thought. As is so often the case, life’s circumstances come at you in ways you don’t expect. Sometimes they completely roll you over like a tidal wave. In just a week, maybe two, after that evening with Eva, I was introduced to a freshman at Perk from George County. Little did I know on that first meeting that she was the girl who would become my true love and life’s partner.
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Fast forward 7½ years from that fall of 1971 to the spring of ’79. Gena and I have married, I’ve completed graduate school at DSU, we’ve moved to Senatobia, and I’m finishing the third year of my teaching career at Northwest Junior College. During a phone conversation with Mama, after she had caught up on all the things her new granddaughter was doing, she happened to mention that Eva Gayle, who had also married, had been brutally murdered at her home in Hattiesburg. She didn’t have much information but had heard that her throat had been cut.
In those pre-internet days, and on the other end of the state as I was, that’s all I knew. But years later, in 2010, not long after my retirement from the college and our move to Hattiesburg, I saw an article in the local newspaper reporting that the three men who had been convicted and given life sentences 30 years before for this horrific rape and murder had been exonerated through the work of the Innocence Project. Newly-tested DNA evidence implicated another man who had lived up the road from where she and her family were living. It turned out that this man was also in prison, serving a life term for a different Hattiesburg rape committed in 1982.
The name Eva Gayle Patterson (her married name) continued to crop up in the news, both locally and nationally, for several years afterward as numerous legal actions played out. There were trials, lawsuits (state and federal) and, in 2016, a $16.5 million settlement was reached with the three exonerated men. Thus ended a long case that, as a New York Times article stated, was nothing but a series of tragedies for all involved.
Eva Gayle Wells Patterson in an unidentified photo from the 1970s. This is how I last remember her.
Source: WDAM.com
Dear readers, I should probably apologize for ending on such a stark downbeat, but I confess that I didn’t know where this piece would go when I started it, and now that it’s written, I can see that any attempt I might make trying to soften it or to bring it back to the warm, hazy gauze of nostalgia with which I started would be unfair to Eva Gayle and would more than likely come off as lame and unsatisfying. So, I leave it here. Make of it what you will.
Notes:
Federal Lawsuit Filed Against Law Enforcement in Mississippi
30 Years Later, Freedom in a Case With Tragedy for All Involved
WORDS TO PONDER
Snuggle (verb): to settle in or move into a warm, comfortable position; to draw close especially for comfort or in affection.
www.merriam-webster.com
Cuddle (verb): to hold close in an affectionate manner; to hug tenderly; to lie close, snuggly and nestling.
www.yourdictionary.com
What’s the difference? Cuddling is primarily an expression of affection between persons. Snuggling is a way of getting warm and comfortable using external objects. Cuddling practically requires an animate (or anthropomorphized) partner, whereas snuggling may be done with a partner or alone. You can snuggle with a cozy blanket on a soft couch, but if you are cuddling, that usually means there is another person involved, or maybe a pet or teddy bear.
www.quora.com
SONG OF THE DAY
“Funny How Time Slips Away” by Willie Nelson (...And Then I Wrote, 1962)
BONUS TRACK
25 Nov 2020 Edit: This blog entry was originally titled “Waves” and did not have this bonus track. I wasn’t satisfied and subsequently gave the piece the title you see above. Having done so, I felt it was only appropriate to add a Little Eva tune to go with the Song of the Day. Her monster 1962 hit single, “Locomotion,” wouldn’t do, so I went looking for an alternative. The B-side seemed a likely candidate, but in searching for a suitable YouTube video of her recording of “Keep Your Hands Off My Baby,” I discovered the Beatles cover I’ve added as a bonus track. It not only flips the gender, which I like, but is a much better rendition, in my opinion. Oddly, it’s a song that, early on, the Beatles often performed live but never got around to doing a studio recording of it. From what I’ve been able to discern, a Beatles fan recorded the song over an AM radio broadcast of one of the group’s appearances on the “Live at the BBC” radio program back in 1963. This amateur audio file floated around Beatles fandom for decades as a bootleg. When it came across their radar, the Beatles’ record label didn’t do anything with it due to the poor sound quality of that original off-the-air recording. Apple Corp. later made a feeble attempt to enhance it, but several amateur audio enthusiasts have since made even more improvements. The version I’ve posted is, in my opinion, the best of the lot. It’s my warning to all would be rapists and murderers: Keep your hands off all my babies and sweethearts!