Judith
Lea Greenhaw Jones Godsey
I
grew up in a wonderful, middle-class family in Mississippi.
My parents were loving, hard working, Christian people
who loved each other and who were incredible role models.
We were all very different from one another, and our
ages were all over the map, but we were a very close-knit
family that shared most things and talked openly about
our feelings. My sister was twelve years older, my brother
five. My sister was a beauty queen, and my brother was
a sports hero.
One of my fondest childhood
memories was when I was in the first grade at Franklin
Academy and my sister, (you have to understand – I adore
this woman) was a freshman in college. One of the greatest
thrills of my life was being asked to come to the dormitory
for sleep-overs on Friday nights. I was the only “little
kid” allowed. I felt so privileged. I listened intently
to every word that was said. I imitated every gesture
– the way they talked, moved, sat - everything. I was
“special.” If only for that moment – I was “special!”
How cool was that for a
five year old? Not only that, but my “big” sister was
a beauty queen! She won the local beauty pageant and
went on to compete in the state pageant. I was in the
second grade by then, and I was just in awe of her.
I can remember vividly (with my cropped off hair and
my Tomboy ways) running through the hotel lobby and
rounding the corner just in time to run into Lynda Lee
Mead, Miss America 1960. I am not kidding you. She had
on the crown, the gown, the sash – the whole nine yards.
I literally rounded the corner and ran smack into her
hoop skirt. She was the most beautiful thing (besides
my sister) that I had ever seen.
WOW! My “Forest Gump“ days had begun.
My sweet sister won the
bathing suit competition and was a runner up. Two years
prior, Mary Ann Mobley was crowned Miss America. The
following year it was Lynda Lee Mead. To my way of thinking,
my sister should have been Miss America that year! She
sure was pretty enough to have been.
Now,
my brother was a different story! I was literally his
shadow. He was “Mr. Athlete.” In fact, the high school
coach at the time, Billy Brewer, who went on to be the
head football coach at Ole Miss, said that my brother
was the best athlete to ever come out of my home town…
and he was! I adored him! Still do!
My neighborhood was full
of boys, which was fine with me since I was such a Tomboy.
I lived in a tree in our back yard until I was about
12 and only came down for meals! (smile...)
At one point, the neighborhood
boys, Kelsey, Jean, and David, formed a baseball team
with my brother. I HAD to be a part of it. So, they
came up with a way for me to join in and feel a part
of the group without being in their way. They told me
I could be the “getter” of the team, a very important
position! Anytime the ball went out of bounds, my responsibility
was to “get” it. I was almost in Jr. High School before
I realized there was no such position on a real baseball
team. I was a good “getter,” though.
We
were also very fortunate because my Grandma, my mom’s
mom, lived with us during the winter months every year.
One of my most vivid childhood memories was sitting
on the bed behind her each morning and watching her
brush her waist length, gray hair, and then twisting
it up into a perfectly symmetrical bun secured with
small hair pens and combs. The image of her long hair,
her small arthritic hands, her incredibly graceful movements,
her reflection in the mirror, and her soft humming while
performing her daily ritual will always be with me.
I was blessed.
In
high school, I do not know how, but I walked away with
just about every honor and award one could, non-academic,
that is. I was just a very sincere person at the time.
I just loved everyone and was nice to everyone.
I went to high school during
the sixties (in Mississippi if you can imagine) and
integration had just begun. Once, I can remember having
“spend-the-night” company over when I was in grade school
and the two of us sitting up in bed talking and crying
because we were so scared. James Meredith had just been
shot at Ole Miss. Before the night was over, we envisioned
tanks and National Guardsmen marching down our Main
Street as blacks tried to integrate our local University.
We just couldn’t understand the problem or why someone
would get shot over something like that. We were scared
to death. The whole world was changing.
Years later, my high school
graduating class was one of the first to have black
students. They were all good students, great athletes,
and very attractive. Still, it had to be very hard for
them. I remember making a priority of not treating them
any differently. Maybe that was why my fellow students
looked upon me so favorably. I do not know. I certainly
did not have my sister’s good looks or my brother’s
athletic ability, and academic scholar, I was not –
yet. What else could it have been? Anyway, it made me
feel warm, and welcomed, and very loved.
I was a cheerleader for
six years and the head-cheerleader for two, B-Team and
Varsity. I was “Miss Lee High,” Hall of Fame, Class
favorite, Homecoming Queen, President of the Girl’s
Athletic Association, female lead in the Senior Play,
you name it. I was even selected as the Grand Duchess
of the Out of Town Royalty at the Memphis Cotton Carnival
when I was a senior in high school. What a shock. Honestly,
it was kind of embarrassing. I didn’t ask for any of
it. It just kind of happened. It all came very easily
without thought, strategy, or planning on my part. It
was all so amazing. I was glad, though, because I could
see how proud it made my whole family.
By this point, my sister
had her own family, my brother was married and living
in a city not too far away, and my dad, who had traveled
for years with his job, had become disabled enough that
he was working in town and was home all of the time.
For
as far back as I can remember, my mom worked, even when
it was unheard of – when a woman working outside of
the home was so extremely rare. Then, in her middle
years, she worked, took care of us, kept the family
going, but also had the added responsibility of
taking care of my father who was very ill for the last
fifteen years of his life.
She
worked all of her life. She belonged to numerous church
groups, social, and garden clubs. She cooked like “Betty
Crocker.” In younger days, she sewed every stitch of
clothing we wore, and took care of my father’s many
physical, monetary, and emotional needs during his long
illness. She had more friends than anyone I have ever
known, from all walks of life, and she was absolutely
HILARIOUS. She kept all of us laughing even in the worst
of times.
Mom
passed on in August of 2004. I still reach for the phone
to call her sometimes. She was my best friend.
As I said, I was blessed…
My
Daddy was 6’4”. He was the strongest, most handsome
man I had ever seen. He was tall, muscular, slender,
and was always, always tanned. His mother was part Chickasaw,
and his father was “Black Irish,” so his coloring was
magnificent. My brother and sister actually probably
knew him better, because by the time I came along, he
was the foreman of a construction crew and traveled
out of town all week, only coming home on weekends.
That meant mom handled all of the discipline, too. That
also meant that mom was viewed as the “bad guy” and
daddy would come home and everything would be wonderful.
I loved the weekends! Mom did, too!
When I was older, he started
to slowly become ill. After that, he took a job at the
company headquarters right down the highway and was
home all week – every week. He was not that sick, yet.
We had no way of knowing what lay ahead of us. We were
all just thankful he was not traveling so much.
At first, his foot would
drag a bit when he walked. Then, I remember he tripped
and fell at a construction site and broke his arm. It
took months to heal. A scrape or cut would take forever
to mend. Well, gradually, over years, it progressed
from these small, seemingly innocent things to major
deterioration that engulfed his whole body – including
his speech. No one knew what it was. It was similar
to Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (Lou Gehrig’s
disease), but it was far slower. Mom flew him
to many major hospitals during that time – Mayo Clinic,
Oshner’s, you name it. He was even written up in medical
journals. I can remember thinking nothing of daddy being
in The University Hospital in Jackson, Mississippi and
seeing two doctors and ten or fifteen medical students
enter the room to examine him and discuss his condition
right in front of him. Amazing what you can get used
to.
Long, painful story short
– he died in 1985. Actually, his cause of death was
listed as Soriasis of the Liver caused by years
of battling Hepatitis he had contracted through a blood
transfusion almost a decade earlier. A very long and
painful ending to a beautiful life. I miss him daily.
He was a good man. Throughout all of the pain and suffering,
I do not once ever recall hearing him complain about
his luck, dwell on his ailments, or utter an unkind
word about anyone.
•••
So,
that is a large part of my personal, childhood history.
Growing up, we were all held together securely by strong
ties made up of love, faith, character, values, and
ethics. There was yelling – we were a very demonstrative
family – at least we three kids were – but there was
never any hitting or drinking in my home, spankings
when we deserved them, but no hitting, ever.
Our problems (and every
family has them) revolved around illness, a problem
one feels helpless to fight, a problem the members of
the family unit have no control over.
There were other problems
that affected the rest of us, but no one could explain
why… at all! My mom and my dad had perfect hearing,
but all three of the kids have developed major handicaps!
(I am putting that mildly.) My brother and I are basically
deaf… We have lost significant hearing
in both ears – specifically, I have lost 80%
hearing in each ear. My sister has also started to lose
her hearing in the last few years. It hit my brother
at the age of thirty. Think how hard that is for a man!
I lost my hearing literally “over night” at forty –
very hard to accept, and my sister’s hearing declined
significantly at fifty. Specialists from Baltimore to
Memphis say the exact same thing – even without conferring
– that it is genetic – like speckled puppies. No one
knows when they will pop out! Obviously, there is nothing
that can be done for it. Surgery would be of no use
at all. Dealing with it is the only thing we can do.
Another thing, losing your
hearing totally undermines your personality. Once an
extrovert, I became an introvert! I needed someone to
“interpret” for me. It is honestly a strange affliction
in that you can hear OK with hearing aids, but
with the nerve damage, your brain cannot process it
as fast as others – or some times at all. “Ball”
may end up sounding like “tall” – none of it may make
any sense tonight, but in the morning it might. You
need someone to help you interpret many times. For example
– if I went to a movie and had on a head-set, I usually
did OK. But if it was an animated or narrated film –
Oh Boy! I was lost! No captions? No lip reading? No
clue!
Yes. It is a pain. Another
pain (and very strange) is that if there is music playing
in the background, I often won’t even “hear” it. But
if someone says, “Hey! Great music!” I realize there
is music playing. Even stranger – if I hear it, I might
not recognize it. All it takes, though, is for someone
to say one or two words from the lyrics, and I’m “good
to go.” I recognize it every time. Mind-boggling!
It has affected more than
my personality. My career suffered immeasurably. Once
very active in the community and in charge of major
capital campaigns, everything had to be adjusted. After
a while, it just became too stressful to try to “keep
up.” Thank the Good Lord I have an employer who understands
that the deterioration of my hearing is not reflective
of a deterioration of my intellect! Someday, I may write
a book about the whole experience. I will call it The
Incredible Shrinking Woman or maybe The Vanishing
Woman. It is amazing how people’s attitudes change
towards you once they find out you are hard of hearing.
It could be worse, though.
It could hurt or be life threatening. It is neither,
thank the good Lord! But it is a pain for everyone
who loves us or works with us. Oh well, if you are going
to be in our lives, you are going to have to DEAL with
it, too.
•••
After
graduating from college in 1973, I married my hometown,
college sweetheart who was a Naval Academy graduate
and an A7 Pilot in the Navy. We moved to California.
Imagine a small town girl from Mississippi moving to
the “Golden State.” I was beside myself with excitement.
I will never forget when we got to Lemoore, California
after driving for days. We drove through the little
town, and I was shocked that there were no stop lights.
It was so small, it only had stop signs! Then, main
street ended in a “T” with highway 41 which lead to
Fresno. When we stopped at the 3-way stop sign at the
“T,” directly in front of the car - for as far as the
human eye could see – were cotton fields! Cotton
fields! I cried! Literally!
Little did I know that
at the age of 21 I was about to enter one of the sweetest
eras of my life.
I taught drama and English
Literature at the local high school. I sponsored the
ski club. I directed plays. I danced in a dance company
in the next little (but bigger) town, Hanford. I modeled.
I traveled the Orient when my husband was on cruise
there. It was a glorious time! I like to refer to it
as “B.C.” (Before Children). We were free to go and
do as much as we wanted to, and we did. We were in a
great location and could be in any terrain – from the
Pacific Ocean, to the dessert, to the mountain tops
within an hour in any direction. We had great friends,
great jobs, great love, and great fun.
We moved back and forth
from Mississippi to Virginia Beach a number of times
as my husband tried to move from naval aviation to being
a commercial pilot. He eventually succeeded and was
hired by Pan American Airlines. During that period,
we had two beautiful children, Jeremy and Jessica, and
eventually ended up on the East Coast.
I had always taught public
high school in Mississippi and California and had very
limited experience with babies and toddlers, so I went
back to school and got my Lifetime Diploma in Montessori
Education.
I found a benefactor and,
with her money, I started one of the first Montessori
Schools in the state of Mississippi. I was the happiest
I can ever remember. I worked at the school all morning
taking Jeremy, three at the time, and Jessica, a newborn,
with me. The afternoons, Jessica and I spent at home
together, and the family reunited in the evenings. It
was wonderful!
I can remember when I was
in the hospital right after having Jessica, still on
the phone calling everyone I knew from church and from
the neighborhood asking them if they would be interested
in enrolling their children in a Montessori School.
It was not uncommon to have someone say, “A Monastery
school? Why would I want to put my child in a Monastery
school?” Needless to say, there was a great deal of
educating, marketing, newspaper articles, and TV talk
shows to do.
The Children’s House of
Meridian opened with 26 students when Jessica was three
weeks old. The school is still one of my proudest accomplishments.
Once
we settled in Virginia Beach, I went back to teaching
high school at an independent school in the area. Before
long, I was promoted to Assistant Director of the Middle
and Upper Schools, then to Admissions Director for the
Middle and Upper Schools, and finally, in 1989, to Director
of Development. It was a joy working with people I loved,
and students I loved, all for a worthwhile cause. It
was also a joy to have been able to have my children
with me, and to know their teachers and friends intimately.
Jeremy graduated in 1997 and Jessica in 2000. I finished
my master’s degree in 1999 while still working full-time.
I now coordinate the school's Communications and Public
Relations and have been at the school for over twenty
years.
The children's father and
I were married for 16 years - until 1989. We still remain
good friends and have always taken our responsibilities
for the children very seriously. He is a great father.
Being a Navy and airline wife, I moved my family 13
times in 16 years of marriage, and there were long periods
of being alone. We never seemed to fight, at least nothing
out of the ordinary for a married couple with two young
children and financial pressures. We had simply grown
apart and gone our separate ways over the years.
•••
During
the first few years after we divorced, I dated a good
bit, but no one really turned my head. Then in 1992,
I met JP. We dated on and off for seven years and ended
up getting married in 1999.
In 2003, he was named “The
Happiest Man in America” by USA Weekend Magazine.
That afforded us many opportunities, pleasures, and
heartaches. There are many, many stories to tell, but
perhaps another time…
We were divorced in 2005.
•••
Today
I am living happily in my beautiful, little home in
Virginia and am enjoying life immensely. It is the first
home I have ever owned on my own!
Besides loving work, I
try to stay as involved in the community as my hearing
loss will allow. For eight years I was a member of the
Central Business District Association, which was responsible
for the development of our beautiful Town Center. I
was a member and co-founder of the Richard Hassell Foundation,
a charter member of the Mississippi Montessori Association,
and sat on numerous committees on the Hampton Roads
Chamber of Commerce.
On the state and national level,
I served on the Board of the National Association of
Independent School (NAIS) Public Affairs Leadership
Network, was on the National Committee on Planned Giving,
was a member of the Virginia Planned Giving Study Group,
the Virginia Independent School Development Association,
and the Hampton Roads Development Directors' Group.
Currently, I am a member
of the a local Rotary Club (my surrogate family) and
am on the Hampton Roads Salvation Army Board.
This must all sound very
self-indulgent, but it is not meant to be.
It is hard to sit down and write out your own bio.
I hope I have
made it more of a journey than a resume…
•••
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