Lessons of a Southern Nonogenerian
--Suzanne Liggett

Almost all of Huretta Davis’s life was spent in Madisonville or Chattanooga, Tennessee or nearby environs. Those of us in the congregation today have known her for just a small sliver of her ninety-one years. Although she visited here when Nancy first moved to Rockville, Huretta arrived here for what turned out to be the last years of her life when she came to nurse Nancy back to health after an operation.

That move influenced the quality of life for more people than Nancy.

I met Huretta for the first time when she and Nancy drove up from Tennessee and arrived late at night to our farm in Berryville. She greeted my husband and I, both total strangers, with a large hug and her signature Tennessee-exasperation, “Lawdy.” She hadn’t liked her long trip from Tennessee ending up on a lonely long dirt road on a moonless Virginia fall night. I knew right away she was a likeable, colorful, energetic lady. That was late Friday night.

By Saturday cocktail hour, we were a couple of old pals seated together in front of the television to watch the Saturday night political pundits. I with a Manhatten in hand, she with a teaspoon in hers which she occasionally dipped into my glass for a sip of before talking back at the pundits who were going after Bill Clinton, or as she called him, “Good old Bill.”

Many of you can remember your first encounter with this lady and your first impression. How her wrinkled face grew smooth with the smile of meeting another of Nancy’s friends. Probably someone she already knew by name. And the next time that person’s name came up in conversation, Huretta would light up again and pronounce that person to be “such a honey.” An accolade, I soon learned, that was the highest in her lexicon of affection.

We expect some folks to use their age as a license to dispense sage advice. Huretta failed somewhat in this arena. She showed up in Maryland with more clocks, sets of china and flatware, and cooking gadgets than she did philosophy. Still, upon leaving Tennessee, she packed a number of sayings that she grew up on, and they fit just as properly in Maryland as they had in Madisonville.

MOSTLY--She’d hold off handing out advice until she’d witness us struggling with some competing choices and feeling guilty about the extravagance of what we wanted to do: “Do what you wanna do.” She’d advise us impatiently as if our course should be patently obvious to us. And she’d end with a little coda, “Spend it now cause you can’t take dime with you.”

For those of us who called her friend these last few years, she has become an archetype for ageing in the 21st century. She embodied something I don’t think is normally called wisdom; it’s called attitude. Hers was “a perpetual stance of openness to new things and new people and new lifestyles.” Her openness shown on her face and inspired the many kindnesses that not by accident came her way.

Her appreciation for your friendship took the form of simple things—

• her voice on the phone calling to see “if you’re doing all right,”
• a chicken potpie invitation--buttered beans and creamed potatoes on the side,
• a surprise dessert—custard pie -- homemade —she managed all flavors from banana to coconut to chocolate, or
• or an invitation to That’s Amore for the EarlyBird special
• or the way she’d say goodbye when you left the apartment, reminding you to drive safely because she’s going to be worrying about you “just like you were my own.”

We are all going to miss this young-at-heart old lady. And the best we can do to honor her memory is to spread her attitude and good heartedness around our own houses and neighborhoods. So next time you or someone in your house is paralyzed with guilt in making a decision, especially, one that might be a tad pricey, free them up with her advice: just “do what you wanna do,” or when things are getting bleak, learn how to make a custard pie in case someone you love might need one, and, by all means, don’t wait one more day to tell a friend right to their face that he or she is “such a honey.”