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Column
By Zach
Mitcham
The Madison County Journal
September 8, 1999
 Sunday
is Grandparents' Day
Sunday is Grandparents' Day. So I'll take
this space to tell you a little about my own.
Granddaddy, my dad's father, who passed away in 1989, worked
for a textile mill in Monroe for over 50 years and served in
the Pacific during WWII. Granddaddy - Wilson Benjamin Mitcham
- was a kind man, always looking to please those he loved. I
remember Granddaddy walking out to meet me in our back yard as
I dribbled a basketball on hardpan. He asked me to throw him
the ball and to "put something into it." I did, and
when he caught the ball with his chest and arms, he fell to the
ground, saying something about how strong I was, not letting
on that he had hit the dirt on purpose, just to make a kid feel
good.
I remember other things, like his nightly cornbread crumbled
in buttermilk and his yellow electric car that sat for years
behind my grandparents' house. I only recall riding in it once,
after Granddaddy and my dad - I call him Pop - let me believe
I had actually fixed the car.
I remember how Granddaddy would wave to us as we rode away after
a visit with both arms crossing above his head. We would round
the first curve headed home and I would always catch a glimpse
of him through a narrow break in the trees, still waving. We'd
pass the Baptist church far out of sight and I'd wonder if he
still had his hands above his head, telling us bye.
My dad's mom, Myrtle Cofield Mitcham, is perhaps the most kind-hearted
person I've known. She had surgery for a brain tumor in 1993
and has been either in a hospital or nursing home ever since.
I remember the night before Grandma's surgery, how she cooked
us all a big meal. Grandma continues to give in that same way
with kind words, hugs and smiles. When I think of love, I often
picture Pop clipping Grandma's fingernails, making a joke about
himself that sends them both into a chuckle.
For years, I thought my mom's mom, who lives in Campton, had
the strangest name - Majosie. I was probably 10 or 11 before
I realized that "Ma" and "Josie" were separate.
As a kid I cackled with my cousins whenever Ma Josie opened her
presents at Christmas. You could tell which gift she really liked.
A nice sweater that caught her eye would evoke a loud "Ahhh....wooooo....ooooo!"
Ma Josie seems quiet around the family. Perhaps she doesn't want
to join in the commotion caused by my mom and her sisters once
they get going - you'd think they were trying to talk above a
rock band. But Ma Josie, a regular at the senior center in Walton
County, has a lot to say when you talk one-on-one with her. And
I really enjoy when she shares stories about her younger days.
I never really knew Papa Tom, my mom's dad. He died when I was
3. I remember him taking me to buy gum at the country store up
the road from his house. Papa Tom was a man of many trades, including
farming, hauling feed and owning a used car lot.
Talking with my uncle Tommy a while back, I could tell he admired
his father. He might fail, but at least he tried hard and was
always looking for new things to do, better ways to make money.
One summer he took his flatbed to Florida and came back with
the truck stacked to the hilt with boxed oranges. And one November
Papa Tom
continued on following page
and another man spent the month in Maine cutting down trees and
stacking them on their trucks. In the used car lot days, Papa
Tom, Uncle Tommy and my Uncle Gerald would go with two or three
other men down to Macon most weekends to get cars they called
"junkers." They would all pile into the same car and
throw six towbars into the trunk, then come back with two used
cars apiece, driving one and pulling the other behind it with
a towbar. Tommy recalled one hair-raising drive when he nearly
rear-ended another driver. He laughed, thinking about what that
guy must have felt, seeing two cars - one without a driver -
sliding to a halt behind him.
My grandparents are and were special people, living through times
I cannot comprehend. But I know my grandparents offered immeasurable
love to their children and children's children. And I'm sure
many of you can say the same thing about your grandparents.
Zach Mitcham is editor of The Madison
County Journal.
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Column
Frank
Gillespie
The Madison County Journal
September 8, 1999
 Frankly Speaking
What's in a name?
Guy Velpoe Roberts Jr., of Cordele, is trying to find out what's
in a name. He has spent the last 74 years being the only person
he knew, other than his father, with the name "Velpoe."
Mr. Roberts has searched the Internet, checked various databases,
and posted messages on genealogy bulletin boards. The only thing
he found was an obscure reference to a "Velpoe" community
in Madison County.
Continuing to use the Internet, Mr. Roberts located my web page
and sent an electronic message asking for information about the
Velpoe Community. Commissioner Melvin Drake verified that there
had been a community by that name at what is now Akin's Crossing
on the Macedonia Church Road. The old Akin Store was at one time
the site of Velpoe School.
Records of the old school are available at the Madison County
Board of Education. These records cover the period from 1900
to 1937. They do not reveal the origins of the name.
A check of the Madison County Cemetery Book, census records and
other resources in the Madison County Library failed to show
anyone with the name "Velpoe." Several former students
were able to describe the school, its location and size, but
none of them had any idea where the name originated.
Guy Velpoe Roberts Sr. was born in nearby Jackson County around
1886. He was delivered by a Dr. Smith of Jefferson, the seventh
son of a large family. According to information from family members,
Mrs. Roberts asked the doctor to suggest a name because "I
have run out of ideas." The doctor suggested Guy Velpoe,
saying that the name came from a professor of medicine in Austria.
Mr. Roberts has been unable to verify that story.
Guy Velpoe Roberts Jr. is still seeking the origins of his name.
He hopes anyone who knows how the Velpoe School, and possibly
his father, received the name "Velpoe" will contact
him at 122 E. Twelfth Avenue, Cordele, GA 31015. Or call Frank
Gillispie at 706-549-7966.
Editorial
The Madison County Journal
September 8, 1999
Remember those
who are suffering
Every community has its tragedies. And this past week was particularly
tough for Madison County and North Georgia with the drowning
death of a Colbert boy and the burial of a slain Elberton girl
with county ties.
Randy Carroll, who drowned in Lake Hartwell Thursday, was remembered
Sunday by his peers as a an active member in his church's youth
group, one who was "not afraid to take a stand for the Lord."
Krystal Gayle Archer, found brutally slain in Morgan County last
week, was buried in Madison County Saturday. She was remembered
by her preacher as a "sweet, loving and trusting" girl.
Sadly, she will also be remembered for her suffering - "like
Christ," one man remarked after her funeral.
Two other Madison County teenagers - Andrew Peek and Kaleb Peppers
- passed away earlier this year, the first in a car wreck, the
second by drowning.
It's all too often we get a call about another lost youth. We
follow that call with a story about what happened and what kind
of person that kid was.
But no amount of newsprint, whether in a story or obituary, does
justice to any of these things: to how that person laughed or
smiled, how that person enriched the lives of others or how bad
the hurt is with him or her gone.
Words are often little comfort for those who are suffering.
But we hope Madison Countians will continually stand by these
families facing loss with their presence and prayers.
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