Big Jack and Little Jack Roberts: A True Story

When I was little we lived in a big two story house in a tiny little town in the Upstate hill country of South Carolina on the North Carolina line.  Our neighbors' surnames were Wilkins, Roberts, Owens, Paul, Fisher, Fort, Harding, Cooley, and such as that.

Today I'm thinking about two of my neighbors who were both named Jack Roberts.  We called them Big Jack and Little Jack. 

Now.  Big Jack was the older of the two.  He was a smallish grey haired man whose wife's name was Cathleen.  I called them Uncle Jack and Aunt Cathleen even though they were no blood kin to me that I knew about. 

Little Jack towered over Big Jack.  He was very tall (to a little girl like me) and had dark hair and his wife's name was Dorothy.  Little Jack and Dorothy had three children, Linda, Anita, and Johnny.  I loved them all so much.  They were the nicest people.

I'd often ask why we call Big Jack "big" when he was little, and why we called Little Jack "little" when he was big, but Mama would usually just say, "Because Big Jack is older than Little Jack," which never really made sense to me.

Little Jack worked all the time like my Daddy, but I would oftentimes go visit Big Jack and Aunt Cathleen.  They were almost always at home.

Big Jack had a little room off the back porch of his house that was full of radio equipment.  He was a ham radio operator.  I didn't really know what that meant for a very long time, but I did know I was never supposed to go in that room.  However, sometimes Uncle Jack would let me watch him turn the dials on all that radio equipment.  It was really something to see.

There would be different voices squawking over the speakers.  All static-y and  hard to understand, but Uncle Jack could always understand them.  He would say strange things like 10-4 and such, which made no sense to me.  I liked the sound of it though and would often repeat what I heard, which might be why I was not allowed in that room...come to think of it.  😉  Hmm....

I didn't know what the words meant so I would say them at odd times.  Daddy would say something like, "Alice, pass the mashed potatoes," and I'd say 10-4, and then I'd be amazed when Daddy'd say, "Alice, have you been over there bothering Uncle Jack again?"

I was convinced my Daddy was psychic.  😉

Aunt Cathleen and Uncle Jack both loved me.  It broke my heart when they passed away.  Little Jack went to heaven too, but his wife Dorothy is still alive and well.  I saw her last Autumn when I visited my hometown.  It gave me such joy to see her!  You have no idea.  She is still the sweet precious lady I've known all my life.  I felt so blessed to get to visit with her a little while. 

The houses where the two Roberts families lived are still there too, side by side.  I remember those houses very well.  The house on the right was Big Jack's house.  It looks different today.  When I was little it was white and had a screened porch on the front.  The house on the left was Little Jack's house and it looks exactly the same now as it did then except back then it had a new paint job and the roof was new.  I just love that house. 

I wish my sons and granddaughters could have known Uncle Jack and Aunt Cathleen and even Little Jack, but that is not the nature of life.  

Those of us fortunate enough to live many decades on this Earth lose those elderly loved ones from early childhood all too soon.  I believe it is good to remember them now and again. 

If you, like me, are blessed enough to have had such wonderful people in your life, please consider writing about them for your children and grandchildren and for the generations yet unborn.  Lest they be forgotten.

Every single name carved into a headstone is a story.  Most of the stories remain untold.  This makes me very sad, so expect to hear more about the humans worth remembering who have peopled my life.  Don't say I didn't warn you.  😉