By Rosemary B Adams
July 27, 2005

J.D. Burleson, a cousin, has asked me to write about my grandfather. Thanks J.D., you have actually encouraged me to do something I have wanted to do for a long time but somehow kept postponing.

My grandfather on my paternal side was Joseph Samuel Burleyson. Although my grandfather died in 1954 for me he is very much alive in my memories because of his Godly lifestyle. Many people called my grandfather Joe Sam, but our family called him, very lovingly, Papa.

Papa was born in Stanly County on March 7, 1869. His father’s name was David Derrick Burleyson, and his mother’s name was Nancy Mann.

Papa’s father farmed and was in the Civil War. David was conscripted and at the end of the war he was in prison at Point Lookout, Maryland. He had to take the oath of allegiance before he could return home. The war had tremendous impact on the Family. I don’t ever remember Papa talking about the war but I know it was probably the topic of conversation with his generation, and created great hardship for his father. One relative told me that when my great-grandfather, (David Derrick Burleyson), came back from the war he wasn’t the same man. His hand and arm had been injured or burned and we are not sure how much he was able to do after the war but all his children were educated and went on to live productive lives.

Papa had a good sense of humor and enjoyed life. He would try to shock people by saying, “Did you know my mother was a man?” Then he would wait for a reaction. He was always delighted to say his mother was a Mann. Papa also enjoyed music. As a child I remember someone would come and play the autoharp for him. His foot would tap as he listened to the music and the smile on his face and the twinkle in his eyes was a trademark of Papa. Mary Jane, his wife who had passed away years before, and several of her sisters played the autoharp and would sing at different churches in the area. I believe the music helped him remember a happier time when he was a young man surrounded by his wife and children.

Papa married Rosa Lee Hatley and they had a son named Burley Claude Burleyson. Unfortunately she died leaving her husband and young son. However, in 1904 Papa married again this time to Mary Jane Rowland and Mary Jane accepted four year old Claude as her son and showered him with the same affection that she did her biological children. Papa and Mary Jane had seven children together. The first child was Blanche Estelle who lived less than a year. All the other children lived to become adults. The next child was Eva Ardelia, followed by Ora Gerome, Lillie Leona, Louis Franklin, and my father, Hurley Raymond.

Aunt Eva, Papa’s oldest daughter loved to talk to me about the past and the family she grew up with. I have no doubt the home was happy and filled with love. My Dad was the baby and stayed with his mother and father when the family was told that Mary Jane had cancer. My Dad would speak about those times often and with great sadness. Dad would tell me that I looked like his mother and that when she died she still had black hair, no gray. One of my aunts said that Papa loved all his grandchildren but I reminded him of Mary Jane and that made him especially happy.

Papa was educated and knew some Latin and Greek but I do not know where he received his education. He taught at Yadkin Mineral Springs Academy which later became Palmerville Academy. The family considered an education a top priority and I have since found that true of all the Burleyson family. Papa also farmed on the land that he had inherited, the combination of teaching and farming provided the income to raise his family.
When Papa was older he would stay with his children. Each family benefited by having him stay for awhile so that his grandchildren got to know him. He stayed mostly with Aunt Eva his oldest daughter.

Her husband was a wonderful man who told Papa that as long as he lived he would always have a place for him. I always loved for Papa to stay with us but many times I was in the hospital and had limited contact with him.
My memories of Papa I will admit from the start are biased. I loved him so much that I named my own son Joseph in honor of him. Papa was as close to perfection as a human is able to be. My fondest memories are those that have stayed with me and comforted me just as he was able to offer me comfort as a child. At eighteen months I was diagnosed with polio. Papa was my refuge and when he held me in his arms and rocked me in a big

maple rocking chair with cushions my world seemed save and secure. He would hold me close with my head resting on his chest. The ear against his chest could hear his breathing and the other ear his soft, rhythmic voice that could sooth my fears and pain. It was not until years later that someone told me he was always quoting scripture to me.

Aunt Eva would often ask me “Did you know Papa prayed for you before you were ever born”. He prayed for all his children and grandchildren. I did not know. All I knew was this man loved me very much and comforted me in my pain. I believe he was not only quoting scripture when he held me I believe he was praying as well. When I was older and able to walk with a brace Papa would take me out. He seemed so tall and his blue eyes and snow white hair seemed like a peak on a mountain when I would look up. I remember my little arm had to stretch to hold his hand. He would take me to a little café in Badin. He would reach down and lift me up and put me on a bar stool and then take the seat next to me. I remember looking down and feeling a little fearful when I saw how far off the floor the bar stool stood. Then when I would look at Papa the trust was complete and I knew he would not let me fall. He would buy me a Coca-Cola in a bottle and an oatmeal cookie. To me that was a big treat. He would talk to the other people and I would sit patiently just happy to be beside my Papa. After a visit with the other people Papa would take me down off the bar stool and we would walk back home.

If you didn’t know Papa he might seem to be someone you would not easily approach. He always carried himself so erect and dressed in an authoritative manner. I remember he always wore a stiff white shirt and black or navy pants with a gold watch chain dangling at his waist. His outward appearance might seem austere but inside was a heart so filled with love you wondered how he could contain it. I believe Papa loved everybody, in fact he told my cousins that if he had an enemy he never knew it.

Papa worked even when he was elderly. He would go to Charlotte any way he could even if it meant hitchhiking to get Bibles to sell. He also sold little prayer books and I have a little book of blessings from him. One of my cousins recently told me something about Papa that I did not know. He went to the Quarters in Badin, an area where only the blacks lived. Papa went when most people would not associate with blacks. He was a friend and he wanted to tell them about Jesus and how much Jesus loved them. Papa knew the families and their children. He would visit in their homes and have meals with them. He spent a lot of time there and the friendly waves and smiles let me know they cared about Papa just as much as he cared for them.

Papa would spend time in our garage where he kept mementoes from the past. He had several large trunks that he would spend hours going through. Some times people would stop by and ask Papa about a passage in the Bible. They would know part of the verse but have no idea where to find it. Papa always knew where to find the passage and was always happy to help; he never turned down an opportunity to discuss the Bible. I still have one of his Bibles and inside the front cover in my little childish penmanship I had written that every time I read his Bible I would remember him and I do.

Papa was fully human even if in my mind he sometimes seems bigger than life. I don’t ever remember a harsh word from him. In fact, I remember one time when I got into his cereal, eating a bowl or two and putting the box away. Later Papa came and sat down by my side and said “the cereal I eat is for old people and you need to eat your cereal.” He did not scold me but gently reminded me I did not need a high fiber cereal.

I wish I knew if what I am writing about my grandfather would be pleasing to him. I think he would want me to see him not as so wonderful or significant but as the man who pointed me and others to the one he saw as wonderful and significant…Jesus Christ. One of Papas favorite Bible verses was “every good and perfect gift comes from God above” James 1:17. Yes, every good and perfect gift comes from God above and I am especially thankful for the gift of a humble and Godly grandfather.