R.D.(BOB) MCARTHUR FAMILY

R.D.(BOB) MCARTHUR CHILDREN ABOUT 1942
(GINNY,IRVIN,JOHNNY, BETTY, MIL, DONNELL,
DAVID, MARY AND STAINTON)

R. D.(BOB) MCARTHUR FAMILY ABOUT 1930
(BACK: DONNELL,MIL,DAVID, PAPA, MAMA
STAINTON, MARY)
(FRONT: IRVIN, BETTY, JOHNNY, GINNY)

To be born in 1923 was to be born in one of the best of times. The first World War had been fought to end all wars. There was peace and prosperity in the land. Although Mississippi, where I was born was doubtless considered by many to be a backward state, we didn't know it at the time. Our family was blessed with deep roots where we lived about two miles from downtown, thriving Meridian, Mississippi. We were not too much concerned about where our family came from. It seemed to me that we had always belonged to that particular spot "at the end of the car line” as stated on my birth certificate.  We knew almost every person that lived within half a mile of our home and everybody made it their business to look after their neighbors. After all, my father, or Papa as I called him, was born in the house next door to where I was born. Talk about roots! We had them!

Since not many of you had the experience of being number eight in a family of nine children, I thought I'd like to share with you a little of the joys and sorrows of being in this special position. For one thing, when parents have brought into the world seven children previously, they have already tried out all the theories there are about raising children. Finding that none of them really work, they begin to hang loose about the whole matter. I was given a lot of freedom as a child, but I knew very well the limits of my freedom. Mama once confessed to me that she didn't remember my birth—birthing was pretty routine for her by then. I soon gave up trying to get her to tell me about my childhood days as I grew older, because I decided that they didn't make too much impression on her. All I can remember is that she said I was never any trouble, which proves she had difficulty sorting out all her children in her mind. Oh, will, what should I expect, being number eight?

Papa was crippled most of my growing up years. We couldn't play ball together, but I do remember the mean game of checkers that he played. To him checkers were a very serious business. If you were going to play checkers with him, you had better pay attention to the game. He just wouldn't tolerate any horseplay. The only time I saw him smile in a checker game was when he made that final jump that declared him the winner.

My most valuable inheritance from Papa was the privilege of witnessing his unending faith during the most trying period of life when he was losing his health and losing the means of financial support of our big family in the midst of the Great Depression. Above all else I remember his determination to be present at church twice on Sundays and at Wednesday night prayer meetings, even when it meant going in a wheel chair. What a wonderful example he set for us and others who find so many excuses for not going to church!

FAMILY TREE LINK