Strangers on Gospel Hill

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We came as total strangers. Local folks had no idea of our background, education, or finan-cial status. They went out of their way to welcome us to town. The “money pit” we had pur-chased at auction was not on “Silk Stocking Avenue.” It was in the older neighborhood, “Gospel Hill,” but to us, it was a mansion where we could live out our dreams. Our immedi-ate neighbors were friendly and polite to us. People don’t always judge a person by the color of their skin, financial or social status in life, (which we already knew) but sometimes small towns have a way of scrutinizing a person’s background before they form a valid opinion of their worth.

Our first encounter with love and acceptance came from our previous landlords, Danny and Gloria, who invited us to the beautiful old Crenshaw UMC and afterward to the local restau-rant, Slaws, for the best home cooked food around. They made sure we were introduced to everyone in both places on our first visit, where we were warmly welcomed.

Later after we moved into our home, one of the local oil dealers, Mr. Robertson, made a spe-cial trip to see my husband at his office. He welcomed him to town, invited him to go to the Rotary Club with him the next week, and said he sure would like to have our business. (Our steam heat was fired by fuel oil). How many merchants do you know that make a visit to ask for their business? In a few days, his wife, brought over a baker’s dozen of homemade rolls. We thought we had died and gone to Heaven! Some of the best rolls anywhere, ever!

I mentioned to someone at church that I needed some mulch for my garden and asked where I might purchase some, and wouldn’t you know it, a few days later, I discovered a big pile of mulch in my yard that had been delivered and shoveled by this dear man, Richard Lee. Richard was a jam up “stew master” for the Men’s Bible Class at Crenshaw UMC who was forever doing good for somebody.

At Christmas, a whole box or navel oranges and some red apples were brought by a local re-tired Dentist, Dr. Bradshaw. One of the kindest men on earth who had been paralyzed by a freak accident, but with his caregiver John, he always was spreading good cheer to anyone in any way he could. I had met him and his wife while I was walking one day. They invited me in, and I immediately fell in love with them. We could count on the oranges and apples every year he lived after that.

We received a plate of warm homemade cinnamon rolls from the dedicated “communion bread” maker for Crenshaw, who was a wonderful baker! At Christmas, The Yancey’s own-ers of a local pharmacy delivered one of her famous Coconut Pound Cakes, greeting us and welcoming us to town.

The big old house did not have central air conditioning. There were some small units in a couple of rooms, and one barely cooled the room. The weather that first summer was steamy and hot. We sweated like pigs, while we worked in the house sanding and painting, working our way up the stairs. One day, a former AG at Fort Pickett we had met said he had a huge window unit just sitting outside in his barn, and he wanted us to use it if we could. Would we? You bet! It cooled our entire downstairs until we finished refurbishing it and purchased our own.

It is impossible for me mention the names of every thoughtful gesture to us during our first few months in Blackstone, Virginia. What I can mention is, that we immediately knew we wanted to live right there in Blackstone and be part of this little piece of Heaven where pride in the community, love of neighbors, and business owners appreciated our business. What’s not to like about a community of loving and friendly people who make you feel like you be-long?