MOUNDSVILLE A TOWN WITH SPECIAL PEOPLE-PART 2

It would be an abject failure on my part not to include Moundsville girls in my chronicle of Moundsville people. Moundsville girls are also very special people.

My first grade teacher Doris Hull was also my next-door neighbor on Meighan Ave. She knew how much my mom had taught me way before I ever started school. I could add and subtract, and even read a little. I was quite embarrassed the first day of first grade when she called on me to count. Once I got to one hundred she said” Ok, that enough Tommy”. (Hated being called Tommy). Doris was a real Moundsville girl.

Our grumpy next-door neighbor (other side from Doris) Mrs. Miller always called the cops on us when we played touch football in the street. We got back at her on Halloween. We put dog poop in a sack and lit it, and then knocked on her door. We soaped her windows, and tore out her hedges. She just didn’t have the Moundsville girl attitude.

My sister Barbette (Barbara Etta, my Grandpa Whitworth had a kissing cousin Etta) was a true Moundsville girl. I remember hearing Barbette and her friends singing a song about Terrace Hall a dorm at WVU (non-coed).

There was to be a football game in old Saint Peter’s yard.

Now Christ he was the fullback, and Moses was the guard.

Now Christ he ran a touchdown right through the boys of hell.

The Angels on the sideline jumped up and gave this yell!!!!!!!

We are the Nuns, Nuns, Nuns of Terrace Hall.

There ain’t a man in this damn hall at all.

And every night at seven they bar the doors.

I wonder what the hell we ever came here for.

Well when were on that train and homeward bound.

We’re going to tear that whole town upside down.

We’re gonna booze and snooze and neck, and peck.

Yes by heck, the hell with Terrace hall!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now that’s a real Moundsville girl!!!!!!!!!!

There are just certain qualities that must be present in a Moundsville girl. It’s just an indefinable zest for life, an élan. I believe the maxim once a Moundsville girl always a Moundsville girl. I know for sure my mother and her four sisters were true Moundsville girls until the day of their death. I also know both my dad’s sisters were born and bred Moundsville girls forever. If you ever have the privilege of meeting a Moundsville girl you’ll never forget it.

There’s a funny quality about growing up in Moundsville. I can remember many people saying they just wanted to get out of Moundsville, but they always want to come back. It’s just a feeling that they can’t get out of their hearts. It’s a longing that just won’t ever go away. I’m sure my friend Susie feels that way even though she moved away. The American south just isn’t like being in Moundsville. There’s no swimming in Fish Creek, or skinny dipping out at the Falls. Running around with your gal pals to the Stone House Inn, or the Hill Top Bar. I can just feel that longing in her emails for Moundsville, and for the falling snow on a cold winter’s day. The way it sticks on the trees and wafts in the Moundsville breeze. She’ll always be a Moundsville girl at heart. So many memories of MHS and the pranks played on basketball trips, and band trips. Moundsville girls always draw special attention from adult supervision.

Susie related a funny story to me concerning a snooty, hoity toity woman who came to church every Sunday morning. She was always a little late arriving so she could put on a show wearing a mink coat. This one Sunday morning things were going as usual, but what the hoity toity woman didn’t know was that there was huge cockroach crawling up her coat. As she passed down the aisle towards the front pew the whole congregation noticed that cockroach. She sat down in the first pew and the cockroach started crawling, and jumped up on her hat it then circled her hat a few times, and jumped up on the feather on her hat while the whole congregation waited breathlessly. Then it fell downward on her neck, and she reached up and felt it, then she jumped up screaming, and the whole congregation roared. That’s a Moundsville congregation for ya!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My two daughters are also true Moundsville girls. Even Tra who now lives in Wheeling is still a true Moundsville girl. I know Jen told me a funny story about being a Moundsville girl it seems a friend she works with and went to college with who lives in Wheeling asked Jen how she could be so normal and be a Moundsville girl. Jen’s friend was never allowed to come to Moundsville back in the days of her youth. There’s just a certain fear of Moundsville folks all over the Valley.

Moundsville girls learn right from wrong. That doesn’t mean they never make mistakes. I PERSONALLY KNOW of two Moundsville girls who broke their daddy’s rules. Their fingers got a little sticky in a retail establishment. Their daddy had warned them about such behavior. He had worked hard all year long in 1984 on the County Republican Executive Committee. He worked hard for Ronald Regan and Arch A. Moore Jr. He even spent all night long in Governor Moore’s office in Moundsville awaiting election results. When 4AM came around Governor Moore was victorious. He asked the girls’ daddy where to send the invitation for the Inaugural Ball. Daddy told him to send one to each of his little Moundsville girls. They each received their invitation, but they never got to go because they were grounded due to their sticky fingers. They took their punishment well, because they knew they had made a mistake. They all ended up missing the opportunity to have Chuck Yeager fly them to Washington D.C. to meet President Reagan. This is one time when the old maxim this hurts me more than you was absolutely true.

In part three I will attempt to put being a special Moundsville person in proper context, and explain all ramifications.