Reeley's Inn

Not all of us can be rich, or famous, or even notorious. The great majority of the world is comprised of people who go about their daily lives quietly and discreetly. Yet, it is those lives which are most noteworthy. For these are the people who keep things going - the mill workers and carpenters and restaurant owners who serve the rest of the world. My grandparents were just such people. While not completely selfless, they were generous and loving, and managed to keep a whole family together through some rough times.

My grandfather was affectionately known by his grandchildren as "Pappap," was a tall, lanky man of at least 5'10". He worked in the Savage cotton mill as a carpenter, fixing looms. His wife, "Rosie" also worked in the mill in Savage in the 1920s and 1930s. Rosie was fun and rather sassy in her youth - there is apicture of her wearing her brother's uniform (World War I), arms akimbo, hat cocked slightly to one side - whe was brilliant. The two started their life together in Savage, following in the footsteps of their parents and grandparents to had also worked in the mill.

In 1937 Rosie was involved in a loom shuttle accident, which shattered the orbit of her left eye. After several surgeries, doctors were able to reconstruct the eye socket enough that she could wear an artificial eye. The accident resulted in her termination from the factory. She received a compensation check, which she and Clarence used to buy a restaurant and a small plot of land on Rte 1 in Savage. The restaurant, known as "Reeley's Inn" was a bar and restaurant, serving seafood, etc. to the local crowd.

The restaurant closed in the 1950s, at which time Rosie and Clarence moved to Foxwells, Virginia and bought a large white Victorian house on 20 acres on the road to Windmill Point. The house was on an inlet between the Rappahannock Rover and the Chesapeake Bay, and was a wonderful place for fishing, crabbling, and oystering. In the years before the red tide fouled the waters of the Bay, the rivers yielded oysters as long as your thumb, blue crabs 8-10 inches in width. There were flounder, perch, and sugartoads - a sweet toadfish which was as rich a fish as you ever swallowed. The men would go out in the morning and bring in a boatful of fish or crabs, while Rosie and her daughters would prepare the rest of the meal...picking vegetables, cleaning and preparing them, kneading the bread - especially the "pullcakes" for which Rosie was famous in our family. Pullcakes were only made when there were plenty of fresh mashed potatoes which could be used for the dough.

Pappap grew an wonderful garden. Used to work the ground with a huge rotor tiller which he could barely handle in his later years. He let each of us as grandchildren think that we had our own garden there - a little plot which was child sized, which had radishes, carrots, and potatoes - somtimes peas and beans - and always he cared for them while we were away so that they would be ready whenever we came back. The ground near his little boat house grew wild asparagus, which could be cut and steamed and eaten each spring.

The table at the Reeley's house was always filled to the edge with all manner of food - fresh corn and peas and lima beans from the garden - hot bread, fresh fish. Even in the winter, there was plenty of food, as the summers were spent canning vegetables - bread and butter pickles, sweet catsup, succotash. "Pappap's" garden was pure heaven - sweet melons, plum and peach trees, and rows of beans, peas and corn. Dark purple grapes hung from the fence, while mulberry and black cherry trees stained more than one section of the yard. Pappap had added a fertilizer to the black sandy soil, and in the process, created a sweetness which could not be duplicated anywhere in the Tidewater area.

Little things I remember about them... I remember my grandmother's arthritic hands reaching in the pantry for a small jar of home made preserves to put on hot, fresh bread. She made sweet catsup which was blood red and always had the snap of vinegar. Pappap smoked cigars, and always had a bowl of peppermint candies next to his recliner. His little white long-haired dog, Lady, used to walk with him everywhere, and would sit in his recliner next to him - even as he watched Lawrence Welk every Saturday night. When he was happy, he sang - little silly songs, like ,"Yes We Have No Bananas" and "You Say Potato and I say Patata...you say Tomato and I say Tamata..." - songs to make us laugh as children. He was always tinkering in his garage - which had a huge old ShopSmith in it and always smelled of gasoline from the machinery.

I remember my grandmother always seemed to be in the kitchen - cooking or baking or washing - there was so much work to be done. She always had a bag of beans or peas that needed to be dealt with. She kept her cereal in the oven, because the pilot light kept the humidity down. She had aluminum drinking glasses and these amazing mugs that were thick and indestructible. I always thought of her house as kid proof.

While Mamaw's domain was the house, Pappap's was the garden and the water. In the little flat bottomed boat, he and my father taught me how to fish and crab, how to catch minnows, how to bait a crab pot, and how to tong for oysters. They used to pole through shallow waters to get to the deserted island on the Bay, where we would walk for hours looking for driftwood and seashells. On the way back, we would all have to duck really low to get inder the little bridge that spanned the road between the islands. Under that bridge were the most delicate softshell crabs ever eaten, or so I have heard - never having eaten one myself.

The old house was sold in the 1970s - money was needed to pay for hospital bills. Mamaw and Pappap died, and were buried in the family cemetery in Savage, near their parents and grandparents. The house is still in good shape, but the boathouse got painted a shocking shade of pink a few years back. I always imagined my grandfather rolling over in his grave at the thought of that. For me, the farm will always be as it was when my grandfather was alive - and I will see him walking the long stretch between the house and the boathouse, fishing pole in his hand.