Small Feet Walking in Big Shoes

Contents

Preface

Part 1

PEANUTS

Chapter 1

My Parents

Mary Alice Winburn

Chapter 2

EARLY LIFE

Chapter 3

Life Changing Tragedy

Chapter 4

Enduring Hard Times

Chapter 5

Stepping up to the Plate

Chapter 6

Tragedy at Mary Street

Chapter 7

A Real Job

Chapter 8

High School

Chapter 9

What Next

Chapter 10

Turning the Corner

Part 2

PRESIDENCY

Chapter 11

Planning and Dreaming

Chapter 12

The Landmark Years

Chapter 13

Moving On

Chapter 14

New Banking Experiences

Chapter 15

New Opportunity

Chapter 16

Learning New Words

Chapter 17

Moving On Again

Chapter 18

Integrity Bank- Presidency

Part 3

PULPIT

Chapter 19

Early Spirituality

Chapter 20

Teen Years

Chapter 21

Coming to My Senses

Chapter 22

Teaching Sunday School

Chapter 23

Face to Face With The Call

Chapter 24

Incredible Year- 1994

Chapter 25

First Pastorate

Chapter 26

Now What?

Chapter 27

Second Church- Second Chance

Chapter 28

New Opportunity from an Old Friend

Chapter 29

A New Reality- A Community in Pain

Chapter 30

Meeting Needs

Chapter 31

Fisherman’s Net Family Life Center

Chapter 32

Meeting Spiritual Needs

Chapter 33

Conclusion

To my faithful and true wife Kathy, my children Chris and Katie and my grandchildren

Preface

Boiled Peanuts! Peanuts! One for a dime, 3 for a quarter! I yelled as loud as I could while working my way through the tobacco warehouse. Each bag of peanuts was a dime but you could buy 3 bags for a quarter. We were relying on volume. It was the summer of 1960 in Vidalia, Georgia and I was nine years old and willing to work hard to make some money- any money. Money was scarce around our house and if we kids wanted any we had to find a way to make it on our own.

I had learned the peanuts trade from working for Bob’s Quick Stop out on the edge of town. Bob would pay us boys 2 cents per bag for every bag we sold.

I learned a very valuable character lesson while working for Bob’s. Every day I would see the cans of frozen strawberries. I had never had any, but in my nine year old mind, I thought they would be delicious. One day I yielded to the temptation and stole one can. I took it out back and had to work to get it open. The strawberries were still frozen, so I could not bite into them. I just licked them. I still cannot recall a sweeter taste before or since. That afternoon when I showed up to pick up my allotment of peanuts, Fred began to ask some questions. There were three or four boys in the back room of the store. Bob asked if anyone knew anything about some missing strawberries. I did not know that he had actually seen me take the strawberries from the freezer. I stood before Bob that afternoon with one of the worst feelings of my life.

It was a mixture of guilt and fear. I had a brief experience with what a life of crime would be like. I had been caught red handed and red tongued. I made an important life decision then and there. From that point on I would not take anything that did not belong to me. I would rather work and earn the things I got rather than live in fear and guilt. Getting caught was probably one of the best things that ever happened to me.

After I worked for Bob’s a little while, I realized that I could make more money if I bought the peanuts myself. My mother agreed; as long as she got part of the money for boiling the peanuts and helping to bag them up. I would buy the peanuts from a farmer who lived just up the road by the bushel. It was amazing how many bushels of peanuts I sold that summer.

Some of my fondest memories of that summer center on McSwain’s Barber Shop. I would hang around the outside and market my wares to the men coming and going. McSwain’s was gathering place in town. The men would come in and chew the fat, eat some boiled peanuts and get a shave. Those shaves looked incredible to me.

The barber would put hot towels on the man’s face and even cover his eyes. While the customer lay back in the chair with his whole face covered, the barber would sharpen the straight razor. He would hold the razor strap in his left hand and very vigorously rub the razor back and forth to get it as sharp as possible. The razor would make a swishing noise as if rubbed back and forth on that leather strap. I guess the men had to really trust the barber to lay there with their face covered while a man stood beside them with a straight razor. When the razor was completely sharpened, the hot cloth would come off and the hot lather would go on. I certainly was not old enough to get one of those shaves, but I always thought the hot lather must feel really good.

The barber would very carefully and skillfully shave off the hot lather. When it was done he would take out a big bottle of after shave, shake it into his hands and rub it all over the customer’s face. That bottle of tonic sure did smell good. I remember thinking, I will be glad when I get big enough to get one of those shaves. I guess I never got big enough because those shaves went the way of the eight track tapes before I ever got one.

Another of my memories of hanging around McSwain’s was the little black boy who shined shoes. He had a stand with a chair that sat up off the floor with two foot rests. The customers would climb up on the stand put their feet on the stands and the little boy would go to work on their shoes. First he would take a brush and remove as much of the dust as he could, followed by a wet brush with a mixture of water and saddle soap. He would take a clean cloth and wipe off the saddle soap. Next, he would pick up the paste shoe polish and stick his fingers directly into the polish and onto the shoes. The polish smelled like cherries which reminded me of some hand lotion that my mother used. When he finished with the application, the real show began. He picked up the brush with the confidence of a finely trained athlete. That kid could really put on a show when he brushed the initial layer of polish. The finest moment was yet to come though. When he had very skillfully brushed the shoes, he picked up the shine rag. I have never experienced any more anticipation since than waiting for that shine boy to start working his magic with that shine rag. As he performed that final act, he did so with as much skill as any musician with a fine instrument. He would make the rag pop as he came into contact with the toe of the shoe. That kid could really go. That rag would pop and pop. There was a direct correlation between the tunes that little black boy could play with that rag and the size of the tip the customer would give. As committed as I was to the peanut business, I had a secret aspiration to make that rag pop like that little black boy. What a skill!!!

Looking back, McSwain’s was without a doubt a men’s day spa before anyone knew that term. The smell of McSwain’s is one I will never forget. It was a mixture of hair tonic, shaving crème, after shave, saddle soap, and cherry shoe polish. I do not believe life in Vidalia, Georgia in 1960 could get any better for a man than coming in, eating some boiled peanuts, drinking a Coca Cola that cost 5cents (later they went up to 6 cents), getting a hot shave, a popping rag shoe shine, and chewing the fat with friends. Life was good!!!

I made enough money that summer selling peanut to buy some new shoes and jeans to wear to school. I was so proud.

My story, in this book is divided into 3 sections

Peanuts represents my early life.

Presidency represents my career.

Pulpit represents my calling, salvation, and ministry.

Part 1

PEANUTS

Chapter 1

My Parents

Mary Alice Winburn

On August 4, 1919 God must have celebrated because He had just created one of the most beautiful human beings to ever live. She was truly a person created in His image. The Bible calls David a man after God’s own heart, but if there was ever a woman with a heart like God’s, it would be my dear mother.

Mary Alice was born into a very large family. Her father was Reverend James Joseph Winburn, a respected Baptist pastor. He was pastor of several churches in Georgia and Florida. He had been married previously which must have been a great challenge for a Baptist preacher in those days and even today since the Bible says a pastor should be the husband of but one wife. Mary Alice was born in Monticello, Georgia and lived there in her early childhood.

There are not many remaining details of her childhood, but one thing that was very evident in hearing stories about that time was her deep respect and even reverence for her Pastor-Father. She considered the words of Rev. Winburn to be absolute truth. When he spoke, she received it with the same significance as the Word of God. This proved to be a source of great comfort and great pain as she lived out her life. She spent a good portion of her early life in church as a PK (preacher’s kid). Being a PK is not an easy way to grow up. People have different expectations for a preacher’s family. It has been said that they live their life in a fishbowl. I believe that this level of scrutiny resulted in a severe inferiority complex in my mother which stayed with her all her life. Many of the decisions of her life did not measure up to the expectations of her father and certainly not of the high and holy church members of his congregations. She had an inferiority complex affected many, if not most of the decisions in her life. She never felt good enough, or worthy of good things.

By the time Mary Alice was in high school, her family had moved to New Smyrna Beach, Florida. She was a good student and joined the New Smyrna High School Band. She played the trombone. She would beam with pride when she would talk about the marching band. She was the leader of the trombone line. Not only did she play the instrument in the band, but also in the church. Her favorite song to play and to sing was The Old Rugged Cross. She went with her senior class on the traditional class trip to New York City. While there she took a tour of the Statue of Liberty and bought a small replica of the statue. It proved to be a great memory for her and she kept that statue until her death.

Shortly after her high school graduation, she went to work in a Woolworths 5 and 10. In the South in those days everyone just called this store the dime store. Mary Alice’s job consisted of operating the popcorn machine and the candy counter. In Woolworth’s candy was sold by the ounce. She used to love to tell me about measuring out the candy for customers. It seems that most customers felt that they received a little less than they paid for. Just to make sure they were satisfied, she would sometimes add two or three chocolate covered peanuts for good measure. I do not know why she specifically remembered the good measure concerning peanuts, but it was good preparation for future events. When she and I entered the peanut business in 1960 she would always put a couple of extra peanuts in each bag.

In late 1939 or early 1940 she moved with her family back to Soperton, Georgia. Soperton was and is a typical, small and rural Georgia town where everyone knows everyone else. It was in Soperton that she met a young man who was in the U.S. Army. His name was Medford but I never knew his last name. From the way she told the story to me she was deeply in love. She had not dated much in high school and after graduation so her love for Medford was very deep. Even Rev. JJ approved of him. He must have some great guy. Things seemed to be working out well for Mary Alice and she definitely planned to marry Medford. I do not know if he ever asked her or not, but she had definite plans.

On Sunday, December 7, 1941 Medford had come home with Mary Alice to share in the Sunday meal with her family. As she described it later, it was a perfect meal. Her mother wanted to impress Medford and had spent considerable time preparing the perfect Sunday dinner. There was of course, roast beef complete with potatoes, onions, and carrots. There were green beans, rice with gravy from the roast and homemade cornbread. There was also ambrosia, which is a mixture of fresh oranges, grated coconut, chopped pecans, and of course a healthy serving of sugar. For desert there was pecan pie. In the South there was no more traditional Sunday meal than this one. Mary Alice was so happy and so proud of her young soldier. She said he was the most handsome man she ever met in his uniform.

After a great lunch and much laughter and happiness, Mary Alice, Medford, and her mother and father retreated into the sitting room. Her father always liked to turn on the radio to catch up on the news of the day. He walked across the room and with just one click of the Off/On button of that radio, Mary Alice’s life changed forever. The newscaster was telling of a devastating attack on the U S Navy at Pearl Harbor by the Japanese Air Force. The accounts were chilling and the atmosphere in the sitting room turned from one of contented happiness to one of devastation and fear.

Medford did not know what to do. He was just stunned and did not speak for a long time. After a while Rev JJ suggested that he needed to call the base where he was stationed and see if he could find out what he should do. Medford called the base and he was told to report back to his duty station immediately. Mary Alice and Medford walked out on the wraparound porch and talked for a few minutes. They expressed their deep love for one another. Medford had a white sapphire ring set in white gold. He took it off and placed it in Mary Alice’s hand. He asked her to keep it for him until he was able to return. He kissed her, walked out to the street to get into a waiting cab. And just like that he was gone. She never heard from Medford again. She did not know if he died in the war or just went away and forgot her.

Something died within Mary Alice that Sunday afternoon. She kept that ring as long as she lived and many times she would look at it and wonder what might have been.

Shortly after the United States entered World War II, she went to work at the rationing board. The whole country had been called to sacrifice by President Franklin D. Roosevelt. Everyone was called on to do their part. Everything, even food was to be used sparingly and nothing was to be wasted. The rationing board issued stamps for food, gas, sugar and many other items that American’s were called on to conserve. Mary Alice really liked working at the rationing board and felt that she was performing service for her country just as surely as the men who were fighting oversees.

She had been at the rationing board for approximately 2 years in 1945. The war was coming to an end and it looked as if the rationing board would no longer be necessary. Most of the rationing restrictions ended in August 1945 except for sugar which was rationed in some parts of the county until 1947.

In January 1945, a young man just 17 years old came into the rationing board to pick up rationing stamps for his family. He was very good looking, with dark hair and a smile that would make a nun swoon. He had the darkest brown eyes Mary Alice had ever seen. She was trying to get the stamps into the rationing book but her hands were shaking and her knees were so weak that she feared that she might fall down. She finally regained enough composure to ask his name. He said My name is Howard.

From that day on, Howard always came to the board for his family. After several visits he asked Mary Alice if she would like to go to a double feature movie with him. She could not say yes fast enough. They began to date on a weekly basis and Mary Alice fell deeply in love with Howard. They eloped were married on January 11, 1947. They told no one.

Rev. JJ did not approve of their relationship because he did not like the lifestyle of Howard’s family. He did not know them personally, but he knew them by reputation. It was common knowledge that they were not just making syrup out in the woods south of town. He never said much to Mary Alice though because he had never gotten over the hurt his daughter suffered after Medford disappeared. Not only that but Mary Alice was 28 years old by now and he did not want her to be an Old Maid and live a life of loneliness.

In March, 1947 Mary Alice came home from work and told Rev. JJ that she and Howard wanted to talk with him tonight. He agreed and as Baptist preachers would do in those days went into his room, put on a full suit of clothes complete with a vest, and tie. He had expectations that they were going to ask his permission to marry and to perform their wedding vows. He moved into the sitting room where they were with anticipation but said nothing. He sat down and looked at Mary Alice and Howard but no one said a word.

Finally, Rev. JJ asked You wanted to talk to me? Nineteen year old Howard finally garnered enough courage to speak. She told me later that Howard said that he felt like he was looking into the eyes of a Judge. (In some ways he was right.) Rev. Winburn, as you know I have been dating your daughter for a pretty good while. We have come to let you know that we have been married for 2 months. We went to a Justice of the Peace in January and got married. We are hoping for your blessings."

Rev. JJ Winburn began turning red beginning at the bottom of his jaw and working its way up to the top of his head. He had tears in his eyes. All of his dreams for his little girl had just been shattered. He had wanted her to marry into a respectable family and now her she was married to a family of so called syrup makers. He had definitely expected that he would be able to pronounce God blessings of Holy Matrimony on his daughter, but that privilege had been taken by a Justice of the Peace. To make it worse, they had already been married for 2 months and he did not even know it. This was a hard blow for a respected Baptist preacher in the 1940’s. He never recovered from his disappointment and pain. His relationship with Mary Alice was never as warm as it had been to that point and his relationship with Howard was downright cold.

Mary Alice became pregnant in early 1948 with their first child. Unfortunately, it was not to be and she had a miscarriage. She was devastated. Another disappointment in her life and she always felt that Howard somehow thought it was her fault. But they did not have to wait very long and she was pregnant again. Their first child, James Fred Mixon was born on May 29, 1949. He was named for her father (James) and Howard whose first name was Fred. It was a very appropriate name for the baby who was the spitting image of his father. He had the same dark hair and the same brown eyes. This was a very happy time for Mary Alice and Howard.

Two years later along came another boy on July 18, 1951. This one looked more like Mary Alice. He had her round face, big rosy cheeks, and blue eyes. They named this one after the two grandfathers; James Joseph Winburn and Clayton Mixon. The baby was Clayton Joseph Mixon. There would be very few times when these two men would be mentioned together. There would be even fewer when they would be in the same place at the same time. James Joseph Winburn was a holy man, a man who had dedicated his life to God and to preaching the Word of God. Clayton Mixon was a moon shining drunkard. I believe I not only inherited the names of these two men but also many character traits from both.

There were 3 other kids born to Mary Alice and Howard. June Diane (looked like me), David Harry (looked like Fred and Howard), and Lois Anita (still looks like me).

Life with Howard

My father’s name was Fred Howard Mixon. He was October 12, 1928 and was known as Howard. Life with him was very difficult and I will be as kind in this section as I can.

Howard had grown up in a family in which the mother had died early on. He had no memories of her beyond her name. She was Essie McSwain. I do not know if she was of any relation to the McSwain’s at the barbershop. Howard was only 4 years old when Essie McSwain died. He was one of 7 children; 5 boys and two girls. He was raised by the two older sisters.

There was not much emphasis put on education in the 1920’s and 1930’s. Children were not forced or encouraged to go to school. They were expected to work in the fields and anywhere else they could find to help the family survive. Howard was no different and only went to seventh grade in school, but He learned about cars and became a very good mechanic.

Howard’s childhood years did little to prepare him for life. He was surrounded by a family of moon shiners, who called themselves syrup makers. I have been told that the syrup they made was so good that it would make your head spin. I have no personal knowledge of it.

Howard had a very hot temper and would fight at the drop of a hat. I guess he had grown up fighting and had become very good at it. He had a very well earned reputation of being willing to fight anywhere at any time and many people were afraid of him. In the end, it was this reputation that resulted in his death (more about that later).

Howard was obviously a hard worker and well liked by his employers. He was never without a job. If one job went away or if he was laid off, he always had another job he could go to the next day. I never remember him being out of work or missing work. He took his job very seriously. He also took a lot of pride in being able to fix anything. Unfortunately, he lived by the theory of Work Hard, Play Hard. Even though he would be home every night from Monday through Thursday, there would be numerous times that we would not see him from the time he got off work on Friday until Sunday night. When he did get home he would have very little money left to pay the rent or buy groceries for his wife and five kids.

One of these times I remember he only had five dollars to give to my mother to buy groceries. She did not know what to do. I remember going with her to the local fish market and they had a sale on mullet fish. It was 10 cents per pound. She bought 20 pounds, some meal, and lard. We had fish to eat all week.

There were times when he would promise to do better. There were several occasions when he came home on Friday and gave my mother $50. She would be so happy and all the kids would be happy. We would all go to the grocery store and stock up. We felt rich at those times.

There are many horror stories that I could tell you about