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By Linda Grow
I grew up in a small community of Gloucester called Ware Neck. Ware Neck is a good place, a special place for a child to grow up. My grandparents lived next door to me and my grandfather was my hero! He was taken away from me when I was eight years old, but my memories are so special. He was born on Bellville Creek and grew up to make his living mostly from working on the water. He crabbed, fished and oystered the North River.
My earliest memories of him are waiting for him to come in off the water so we could go sell the day’s take to his best customers. First I would up to the door and say “Fresh Fish, would you like some fresh today?” I must have been six years old when I was allowed to go with him. Once I did I was his side kick from then on.
I really liked going to the big beautiful homes on the North River. The customers had Granddaddy clean the fish so I was invited to the kitchen by the maids for cookies and fresh milk. Granddaddy liked it because he made more money that way. We mostly sold in Ware Neck to people living in huge homes named Warrington, Ditchley and Toddsbury.
The first time we drove up to Ditchley was like watching a scene out of a movie. Two maids in the whitest and stiffest uniforms I had ever seen were hanging laundry on the clothes line. At the back of the house was a balcony with lattice work covered by roses in full bloom. On the balcony was a large black lady also in a starched white uniform beating a rug. As granddaddy stopped the truck she said “Captain Sam, what good fish do you have today?” She called out to the lady of the house who sent someone out to buy fish.
I remember taking any unsold fish down into Back Creek. This part of Ware Neck was populated by black families. Some of them were maids, drivers and farm help at the big houses. He sold some fish but mostly gave it away to families out of work or widows who had no income.
If we got a late start I can remember stopping by one of the old country stores where granddaddy would buy a small chunk of sharp cheddar cheese and crackers for us to share. I was fascinated by the black wax covering on the cheese and I can remember the fibers on the inside of the wax wrapper. This particular store was owned by Mr. Garner, a big tall black man. The store had a limited selection of items; a few cans of soup, crackers, cold drinks from the old Coca Cola box and candy. It had a very old gas pump outside and the store was close to the road. I believe his brother ran the shoe repair shop in Gloucester. The other general stores in Ware Neck were much bigger and full of groceries and merchandise but Granddaddy enjoyed talking with “Garner”.
 When crab season was in and Granddaddy brought crabs home to cook, it was my job to catch the crabs that fell out of the crab pot when he was shaking them out. He showed me how to step gently on them and where to grab them so as not to get pinched. When they got out they would quickly crawl under the truck or the house. Granddaddy explained that was “money” walking away. He made me feel good and proud to be doing such a good job…and I never got pinched!
When he was building a boat in the backyard my job was to pick up the leftover wood. I would sit in the big wooden lawn chair and swing my feet, waiting for him to saw the boards so I could get them and stack them up neatly. To this day I love the smell of fresh cut wood and seeing wooden boats being built.
Granddaddy sold his oysters to Mr. Hodd at Hogg’s Oyster Company at Gloucester Point. Most of the time I had to promise to sit in the truck when he went in the building. I can still remember the day other men leaving the building, walking to their trucks, shaking their heads and talking amongst themselves. Even as young as I was I knew it was bad. Granddaddy got in the truck and said this was a bad day for all the men who made a living oystering. He tried to explain that some oysters had a disease so Mr. Hogg could not buy them. It was a quiet ride home.
When I started school I hated being apart from him. I had spent everyday with him, sitting by a small woodstove in his oyster shucking shack, listening to the radio or waiting for sweet potatoes to cook. We loved hot sweet potatoes right out of the oven with a little butter.
Granddaddy would drive me to Nuttalls General Store to catch the bus so I would not have to wait in the cold. Little girls had to wear dresses back than, no pants allowed. My legs would turn blue in the cold! When I ride by the store now I think of him and memories of little boys buying baseball cards and bubble gum. The same door is there today, showing the wear and tear of age.
Granddaddy developed a bad cough that did not get better. He did smoke, mostly a pipe. He became very ill and spent time in a Richmond Hospital then known as Johnson Willis. Children under 12 were not allowed to visit. On one of the visits however a nurse let my aunt sneak me up the back way so I could see my granddaddy. He was all wrapped in bandages across his chest. They sat me on the bed beside him so we could talk. The family left the room. At first the nurse was afraid I would be frightened because of all the bandages but nothing could ever scare me about granddaddy. He told me he thought those cigarettes he smoked had hurt his lungs and the doctors had to fix it. He told me to never touch a cigarette, making me promise not to ever hold one to my mouth. He said he realized I was little but to always remember that promise. I have never forgotten that promise, especially as I grew older in high school. I feel that promise was the last precious gift he gave me fifty-four years ago.
 Granddaddy died December 22, 1957. I feel his spirit is always with me. As I spend time with my own seven year old granddaughter I think of those precious days with him. I hope to instill in her, the values he gave me- to know right from wrong, good people come in all shapes and sizes, rich and poor and the color of one’s skin makes no difference. The goodness of a person comes from within.
I hope that one day my granddaughter will remember our good times together and smile!
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