By Doris
Meridian was a lovely old Southern town with stately homes and large beautiful trees. It was a culture shock, but an interesting one, for someone from New Jersey. The segregated bus station served a delicious “chick steak” sandwich, but only if you were white. The only real restaurant was Dahlkes, a very attractive family restaurant, with good food and a jar of peanut butter on each table. There were no fast food restaurants — McDonald’s and Burger King were founded in 1955 and hadn’t yet arrived in Mississisippi. We were part of a dinner group of young naval officers and their wives, in their mid twenties. The group (without us that night) went to the Chunky River Fish Camp, decked out in their finest outfits with high heels and the occasional fur stole. It was reverse culture shock for the folks at the fish camp. They dined on delicious fried catfish served on paper plates.
The people of Meridian, second largest city in Mississippi, met the outside world when the Navy arrived. It was a provincial place, and since we bought a house in town, we were their window into that world. I learned as much from them as they learned from us. The best way to experience a place is to live locally, not on base.
We bought a small house under construction in a new development, and our very nice realtor set us up in a rental apartment in town. It was immaculate, with one major drawback. Everything was painted maroon, including the floors, the paneling and the kitchen table! We arrived in August, put our window air conditioner in the bedroom, and pretty much lived there. Temperatures there are in the 90s in August. At that point I was eight months pregnant.
Jennifer Louise Lidke was born on September 9, 1961, a day before her due date, a precursor of her lifelong characteristic of always being on time and never keeping anyone waiting!
She was named for my Grandmother who unfortunately passed away the year before. Her first two weeks were spent looking at maroon walls, hence her excellent eye for colors (but not maroon)!
Jennifer was born at Anderson Infirmary in town. There was no military hospital, and the two obstetricians in town did a lot of business when the Navy came to town. Upon entering the hospital at 9PM we were asked “may I help you?” to which Don replied “Yes, she has come to have her tonsils out.” When we left the next day we were sent on our way with a nice Southern sendoff with “Y’all come back now, hear?” I wasn’t in a hurry to return, even though Jennifer was very considerate, arriving in 5 hours at 1:39 AM on Saturday morning. And she has always been considerate, another early trait. When she was two weeks old we moved to our new house and her life as a Navy brat began. The term brat is a fond term to acknowledge the children of military families and the difficulties they face in always being “the new kid” in frequent moves.
Inez, our next door neighbor and Mississippi native, had four boys, and doted on Jennifer. Her husband worked for the railroad and left very early each morning, as did Don, who had 6 AM launches in training flight students. By 9 AM, Inez and I would be sitting in our front yards watching the rest of the world going to work. Inez had never known a northerner, and in those hours we became good friends comparing the differences between us, and also celebrating the ways we were alike.
And then there was Lucy, also someone from whom I learned a lot. She was a 37 year old black woman, (same age as Inez) who worked for us once a week, cleaning, babysitting and ironing sunsuits that Grandma Mae had made for Jennifer. We ironed before permanent press existed.
She did all of this for $3 a day. Local people were not happy with us, the going rate was $2 a day! She came by bus in a white ironed uniform, was a mother of four and lived in a very small unpainted home. The differences between us were extreme. She ironed her uniform on an upturned dresser drawer until I gave her an ironing board. She loved Jennifer. When we left Meridian on our way to Adak, Alaska, I gave her many things, including Jennifer’s small plastic wading pool. I learned years later that Jennifer was not happy about that, when she said indignantly “You gave Lucy my wading pool!” Jennifer was 3 years old, and that may be her first memory.
Lucy was the aunt of James Chaney, a young man who was registering black people to vote, along with two young white northern men. They were killed by local klansmen. Don tells their story. When we left Meridian they were missing. Black people were very weary of saying anything to any white people, so civil rights never came up with Lucy. A navy friend who was stationed in Louisiana at the time was a real idealist and was helping and encouraging a young black girl who worked for her. Someone set their house on fire and they lost a lot. There were many good sides to the people there. Things were not always black and white, many shades in between existed, which I was glad to learn while I lived there among them.
Among friends we made in the military in Meridian, one in particular is historic. JB McKamey was shot down on a mission in Vietnam, flying from a carrier. Others who saw it said there was no way he survived. As it turned out, he did and was a prisoner at the Hanoi Hilton for eight years, but officially he was considered missing in action. The Navy told his wife, but she was not able to tell anyone because they did not want to compromise their intelligence sources in Vietnam. We saw him in the news when they showed the prisoners on the plane following their release.
We left Meridian enroute to Adak, Alaska in the summer of 1964. It turned out I was pregnant in the middle of another move! Lucy predicted it would be a boy, just by looking at me! Jennifer, Chris and I lived in Seattle for two months, waiting for housing to become available at Adak, and so another chapter begins.