My Husband's First Love

Mary Elizabeth Wells Hitchcock
1951

The first woman in my husband's life taught many things to many people.  She worked more than thirty-five years at Clyattville Elementary School.  People often assumed she was a teacher.  She would be quick to clarify that she had only been a substitute teacher and then, thereafter, parapro.  Her zeal for education  plus her insight into the needs of children made her fine at both.

Her youngest son, however, was a trouble maker. He had a knack for making kids laugh at the most inappropriate times. She would laugh, too. They would banter back and forth. Other times, she ignored his foolishness and encouraged others to do likewise. She couldn’t do anything with him.

One time in class, the substitute teacher asked me directly about the history lesson we had just read aloud. I floundered for an answer--day dreaming was standard operating procedure for me. It’s called pondering these days. And, I still do my share, especially about the wonders of my mother-in-law, Mary Elizabeth Wells Hitchcock.

My in-laws were smitten in high school. In the Last Will and Testament of their 1952 yearbook, they are quoted as leaving "hand in hand." The next year, they traveled from Madison County, Florida, to the fair city of Valdosta, Georgia. They were married in the chambers of the Hon. T.N. Holcombe, Jr., Probate Judge.

The judge did a fine day’s work. The union lasted 56 years. They raised a family amidst many trials: the death of an infant son, debilitating surgeries that caused substantial loss of income and other major health problems. They met their trials shoulder to shoulder; never back to back. Each one served to make them more united.

For most of their marriage, he would head to the papermill to hone his electrician skills. And, during the school year, she spent her days substituting and aiding real teachers. She held fast to the philosophy that well behaved children needed attention, too. Well behaved or not, she had great recall for their names, their siblings’ names and where they lived in the community.

Chuck, Keith, Mary Elizabeth and
Charles Hitchcock, 1983

Aside from reporting to their jobs, my in-laws were scarcely apart. They cooked, shopped, fished, visited family and friends, and watched their sons play football in unison. Years later, they were smitten all over again with their grandchildren–spoiling them side by side.

She seldom even made her weekly visit to the beauty shop solo. He would wait in the car. The Big-Jem Exchange on the radio kept him occupied–noting great buys with his electrician’s pencil.  It takes an amazing woman to have her husband that attentive.

All that togetherness--they should have gotten on each other’s nerves. Yet, I never heard any bashing. Sometimes, she would say that he was hard headed. He, in turn, would say that if she didn’t stop shopping, he’d have to build another house just to store her stuff. This would be said while driving her into town to catch some more sales.

Indeed, she did like to shop–a bona fide bargain hunter. All the sale papers from local stores were studied, along with the Avon brochures, and she visited estate sales and flea markets. She would either wait or dicker for the best deals. When she got them, she would shop a plenty and then store what she brought home.  It was only way she did it.

Family, friends and neighbors alike benefitted from her thriftiness and generosity. She gave me some great gifts over the years: clothes, accessories, cookware and linens to name a few.

Keenly intelligent, Mary Elizabeth could be fiercely opinionated and strong willed. Yet, we never had a cross word. At the brink of a mixed opinion over a decision already made, she would say, "that’s ya’ll’s little red wagon."  Meaning that she wouldn’t interfere. She never did. It was the best gift she ever gave me.

In 2008, the first woman in my husband’s life had to bury her own husband. She had spent a decade caring for him while he fought an arduous battle with cancer. The woman who had taught so much then had to learn to stay, sleep, make new friends, and shop all by herself. And, she did. She never said it was the hardest time in her life; she didn’t have to.

Mary Elizabeth joined a Monday morning Bible study group in the Lake Park community. The group was a tremendous support. She told me that one dear lady, in particular, literally took her by the hand for the first meeting.

Memories were too much for her at the lovely church where she had always worshiped with her husband. Thus, she was encouraged to attend church with me and mine. It was there that a Sunday school class of several semi-retired educators awaited her. These new friends saw the wonder of Mary Elizabeth despite the heavy burden of grief she carried. They really got her quick wit, generosity and concern for others.

Just as time seemed to do it’s best work, she took sick. Her own battle with cancer was of short duration, but none the less arduous.  She faced every day with unbelievable courage and grace.

One of her new friends spoke at the funeral service,  "I have a little plague at home with these words: ‘Some people come into our lives and quickly go . . . some stay for awhile and leave footprints on our hearts, and we are never, ever the same.’"  Even though their friendship was for a short time,  Mary Elizabeth impacted her life and she is not the same.

I couldn’t have said it better myself. Mary Elizabeth taught so much to so many.

Indeed, she was as a real teacher--my teacher.

I think of her often–pondering her many wonders. She raised two fine sons. Each is unique with his own strength and abilities. The oldest is keenly intelligent. The youngest is still a trouble maker. I can’t do anything with him. But, he sure makes me laugh.

   This article appeared in Valdosta Magazine Winter 2011.  It is used with permission.