Farmer, Grandfather, Architect
Born on October 31, 1899 in Choctaw County, Mississippi, my grandfather began a journey that lasted ninety-nine years and a legacy that endures to this day. His life was fulfilling, yet remained a simple one until his death. William Louis Campbell had a gentle, but driven temperament that provided a stable foundation for my soul. Wallace Stegner in his essay "The Town Dump," describes Mrs. Gustafson as a deeply religious character. The same could be said for my grandfather. Sundays were a day of rest and worship. Going to church was usually an all day affair, complete with praise, singing, laughter, and food. During those lazy afternoons at church, the men would stand around swapping planting tips or catch up on the latest news while the women busied themselves with the food and all the fixings. Always standing within earshot, my young ears strained to hear the wisdom bantered back and forth between the seasoned planters. When the occasional off-colored joke was near completion, he would often give me a sly wink. This was my signal to inch closer to granddaddy Campbell, while keeping in mind children are to be seen and not heard. Whether he knew it or not at that time, he was creating an immense bond between two people that grows to this day. By trade, William Campbell planted seeds of cotton, but he sowed the seeds of hard work, common sense and the love of music and family within the fibers of my soul.
Granddaddy Campbell worked the soil all his life, from sunrise to sunset with the determination of a possessed man. Sun weathered skin and calloused hands were the sign of a hard working farmer and were usually exhibited like a badge of pride or accomplishment. An arduous and continuous undertaking, a farm had plenty of work to complete. When the daily chores were done and bellies were full, music usually filled the night air. Work, worship, music and even strife were always confronted as a family unit.
My grandfather...
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