Salt of the Earth:
Thoughts from the Editor
July 15, 2020
Sheila Harris
“Salt of the earth,” my dad calls them, people who go quietly about their business, and in so doing, make the world a better place for those around them.
Three such people in my hometown of Purdy passed away recently.
Last week, I was brought up short when I learned of the death of Shirley Darby. Her name may not sound familiar to you, but I’m sure you’ve seen her. For years, until her health failed, she could be seen walking through town, soda in hand, pulling a red wagon of laundry behind her.
I first got to know Shirley when I worked at Ramey’s for a time when we were both much younger. She regularly stopped in the store to buy a can of pop. I was initially intimidated by her. Her speech pattern was unique, and I had a great fear that I wouldn’t be able to understand her if she spoke to me. My fear made me reticent to engage with her. I discovered, though, that when I began to talk to her, the more easily I understood her speech… and the more rapidly she talked.
I learned that Shirley was a hero within her realm. She ventured bravely forth on foot to take care of her family’s needs. Nothing stopped her. Her family could count on her until she became too unsteady to be out on her own. To learn that she was 80 years old at her passing took me by surprise. In my mind, she was ever-young and spry.
If you’ve lived in Purdy long enough, the name Bill Roller comes to mind in connection with the town. His passing, too, on April 22, left a rift. He was a founder of G&R (later, R.M.) Industries, a partner with Catch-A-Dream Foundation, and one of the Purdy Eagles’ biggest fans. Although I didn’t know Bill well, I’ve always known of him.
Not long after I moved to Purdy and married a native, I heard Bill Roller’s name used in the context of fish-gigging. Apparently, he was one of the gigging buddies of my then-husband and his father. I’d never heard of gigging for fish until then. It was a primitive-sounding endeavor, certainly not one practiced by my father and brother in the urban environs of Des Moines when I was growing up.
It turns out that gigging for fish is a uniquely Ozarkian sport, one which probably evolved from a time when it was a necessity. To give me credit, I did try it once, but once was enough. Whether Bill Roller often gigged for fish, I don’t know, but his name and the sport are linked together in my mind for whatever reason these types of associations are formed.
The passing of Francisca Perez Salas on February 19 was a shock to all of us, and a great loss to our community. Francisca – known as “Nanny” in the Hispanic community - lived a quiet life, but one of great courage. Francisca left Mexico with her husband, Pedro Perez, in order to provide a better life for their children in the United States. There are many stories similar to hers, but hers had a unique twist. Shortly after they settled in Purdy in 1994, a car accident left Pedro a quadriplegic. Francisca picked up the reins and became the sole breadwinner for their family of four children. I never heard her complain.
Francisca was one month older than me, a fact I discovered early in our friendship, a fact which made her feel like a sister to me. We labored together for many years at George’s in positions which I often felt stifled by. For Francisca, though, with little English at her command, the work at George’s represented bread on the table for her children. I practiced my Spanish on her and taught her a little English, until I left for employment elsewhere and the years slipped away.
I was shocked and saddened when I learned that her car was hit by the train that rolled through Purdy on February 19. She died instantly.
In my estimation, Francisca was a hero. Speaking little or no English, she carved out a life for her family in a community where I’m sure at times she felt as foreign as she may have been perceived.
You may have seen her, too. She usually took time to slip out for a walk around the school in the evenings, often with a grandchild in tow. Kudos to you, Nanny! You left your mark on the world, but you left too soon. May your example stand for multiple generations. Those who knew her have certainly risen up to salute her. Count me among them.
Those who aren’t out for personal glory sometimes leave the deepest impressions on the world, I’ve discovered.
They’re the salt of the earth.
Sheila Harris
“Salt of the earth,” my dad calls them, people who go quietly about their business, and in so doing, make the world a better place for those around them.
Three such people in my hometown of Purdy passed away recently.
Last week, I was brought up short when I learned of the death of Shirley Darby. Her name may not sound familiar to you, but I’m sure you’ve seen her. For years, until her health failed, she could be seen walking through town, soda in hand, pulling a red wagon of laundry behind her.
I first got to know Shirley when I worked at Ramey’s for a time when we were both much younger. She regularly stopped in the store to buy a can of pop. I was initially intimidated by her. Her speech pattern was unique, and I had a great fear that I wouldn’t be able to understand her if she spoke to me. My fear made me reticent to engage with her. I discovered, though, that when I began to talk to her, the more easily I understood her speech… and the more rapidly she talked.
I learned that Shirley was a hero within her realm. She ventured bravely forth on foot to take care of her family’s needs. Nothing stopped her. Her family could count on her until she became too unsteady to be out on her own. To learn that she was 80 years old at her passing took me by surprise. In my mind, she was ever-young and spry.
If you’ve lived in Purdy long enough, the name Bill Roller comes to mind in connection with the town. His passing, too, on April 22, left a rift. He was a founder of G&R (later, R.M.) Industries, a partner with Catch-A-Dream Foundation, and one of the Purdy Eagles’ biggest fans. Although I didn’t know Bill well, I’ve always known of him.
Not long after I moved to Purdy and married a native, I heard Bill Roller’s name used in the context of fish-gigging. Apparently, he was one of the gigging buddies of my then-husband and his father. I’d never heard of gigging for fish until then. It was a primitive-sounding endeavor, certainly not one practiced by my father and brother in the urban environs of Des Moines when I was growing up.
It turns out that gigging for fish is a uniquely Ozarkian sport, one which probably evolved from a time when it was a necessity. To give me credit, I did try it once, but once was enough. Whether Bill Roller often gigged for fish, I don’t know, but his name and the sport are linked together in my mind for whatever reason these types of associations are formed.
The passing of Francisca Perez Salas on February 19 was a shock to all of us, and a great loss to our community. Francisca – known as “Nanny” in the Hispanic community - lived a quiet life, but one of great courage. Francisca left Mexico with her husband, Pedro Perez, in order to provide a better life for their children in the United States. There are many stories similar to hers, but hers had a unique twist. Shortly after they settled in Purdy in 1994, a car accident left Pedro a quadriplegic. Francisca picked up the reins and became the sole breadwinner for their family of four children. I never heard her complain.
Francisca was one month older than me, a fact I discovered early in our friendship, a fact which made her feel like a sister to me. We labored together for many years at George’s in positions which I often felt stifled by. For Francisca, though, with little English at her command, the work at George’s represented bread on the table for her children. I practiced my Spanish on her and taught her a little English, until I left for employment elsewhere and the years slipped away.
I was shocked and saddened when I learned that her car was hit by the train that rolled through Purdy on February 19. She died instantly.
In my estimation, Francisca was a hero. Speaking little or no English, she carved out a life for her family in a community where I’m sure at times she felt as foreign as she may have been perceived.
You may have seen her, too. She usually took time to slip out for a walk around the school in the evenings, often with a grandchild in tow. Kudos to you, Nanny! You left your mark on the world, but you left too soon. May your example stand for multiple generations. Those who knew her have certainly risen up to salute her. Count me among them.
Those who aren’t out for personal glory sometimes leave the deepest impressions on the world, I’ve discovered.
They’re the salt of the earth.
Bill Roller
2/10/1938 - 4/22/2020
|
Shirley Darby
12/10/1939 - 7/05/2020
|
Francisca Perez Salas
9/17/1960 - 2/19/2020