Livin’ Down South in the Land of the Pines

by Jordan Beck

“It was so safe. You never had to worry about crime, and no one thought about child abductors.” As Gayemell Shepherd’s sweet southern draw serenaded my ears, my mind floated back to the early 1960s when she was growing up in Sanford, North Carolina. An idyllic life of happiness, the American Dream, and strong ties to the South hovered in my consciousness like a honey bee over a magnolia flower. Such was the life of the then Gayemell Campbell, born in 1956 and raised in Lee County. The mother of my best friend since the day I moved to West End, NC, from Freehold, New Jersey, in 2004, no other woman besides my own mother ever took such good care of me. In a life defined by strong southern roots, the end of segregation and subsequent integration of African Americans, as well as the evolution of culture, Gayemell’s life paints a picture of what it means to be a Southerner.

The daughter of a farm-boy turned soldier turned chemical salesman, Gayemell Campbell grew up in a comfortable neighborhood. She recalls always being outside, as “there was more play than now where technology’s screwed up so much.” Whether it was spending a quarter for a cone at an ice cream truck, fishing with cane poles, or riding bicycles through clouds of mosquito-killing DDT, Gayemell described a childhood free from worry. “It was a much simpler, helluva lot easier life,” she said with a smile. Of Scottish descent, the Campbell family has deep ties to the land. The farm Gayemell’s father grew up on remains the family’s today. Recipes were passed down by the women, as were china, crystal, and silver. Gayemell still recalls getting her first Mix Master and learning how to make a pound cake. Food was a key component of life, “with extra salt and butter” she said with a grin. Chicken and dumplings, pound cakes, grits, fried chicken, collard greens, biscuits, and potato salad were staples, yet canning was equally important. Without freezers, picking green beans and preserving them was the norm.

Life, however, did not stay so idyllic, especially as segregation ended as the effects of the Civil Rights Movement reached Lee County. When integration began in 1968, her eighth grade year, Gayemell recalls the rioting of both blacks and whites. “It was a very uneasy time,” she said, “Whites didn’t like blacks, but blacks didn’t like being there either.” She remembers the more volatile students sharpening their belt buckles to use should a fight break out. Graffiti was everywhere. It was “scary as a 13 or 14 year old,” she stated. Yet, over time, things started to change. Athletics paved the way and while “tension was always there, it became the exception rather than the rule [to fight]. There were still groups who were volatile, but with athletics, it was better for victory together than victory apart” (Shepherd). The realization that integration was not going to change also moved things along. “You had to get used to things,” mused Shepherd, “but you always looked over your shoulder for those who had an axe to grind.” In truth, it wasn’t the students who had a problem in Shepherd’s experience, but rather the parents. Gaymelle’s husband Dale, also a native North Carolinian, interjected, “As student body president in high school, my vice president was a good friend of mine and an African American. He was a great baseball player, and while we were friends in school we never saw each other outside. It just wasn’t possible.”

After graduating from Greensboro College and working as an exceptional education teacher in Goldsboro, Gayemell Campbell moved to Moore County and married Dale Shepherd, a Wake Forest alumni. They had their first child, my future best friend, Talmadge, a year later in 1994. The changes to life were drastic, most notably with technology. Yet Shepherd mentioned her sadness at a part of life grown increasingly rare as time’s passed: visiting. “Every Sunday after church you’d get in the car and ride without seat belts to a friend’s house. You visited. You made homemade ice cream and sat on the churn while someone cranked.” Gayemell and her family try to keep a similar tradition going, and the Shepherd household continuously buzzes with other people. More changes to life revolve around the church. “There were fewer churches back then, but fewer conflicting activities too. You’d always get together for lunches and parties there with all your friends,” she reminisced, “now there’s so much that gets in the way.”

While the modern world certainly has its differences from Sanford, North Carolina circa 1960, one thing that won’t change anytime soon: the people. In Gayemell’s words, “It’s the people that make the South the South. The hearts of the people. You know your neighbors and you depend on each other.” That’s what it means to be Southern. You can eat all the collard greens, biscuits, and pound cakes you want, but if your heart lies outside the South you aren’t a Southerner. After all, home is where the heart is.

Work Cited

Shepherd, Gayemell. Personal interview. 6 Feb. 2013.

Note: Jordan Beck, who grew up in New Jersey, is pursuing an associate of arts degree at Sandhills Community College. He plans to transfer in fall 2013 to N.C. State or UNC-Chapel Hill.