Part I: Pops

Much our world today is constructed to convenience us, to help us live our lives more efficiently, to “work smarter, not harder”—and this is a great thing! But in making our lives simpler, we’ve also complicated them. When you’re used to living a certain way, unaccustomed to unreliability, it’s easy to take an inconvenience and sensationalize it. Suddenly, a minor problem becomes mid-grade apocalyptic event, and your day is ruined because of it. I, personally, have been reduced to tears over an ill-timed computer malfunction, and, needless to say, it didn’t help. The disproportionate amount of stress experienced doesn’t solve the problem and just gives you an ulcer in the process. I feel incredibly humbled, then, when I meet individuals for whom this isn’t the case—like my paternal grandfather, for instance. I have never seen a trace of irritation on his brow—patience just seems to come naturally to him. His easy smile, booming voice and ready laugh are the hallmarks of his personality, causing him to aptly fit the affectionate title we refer to him by—Pops.
A Virginia native, Irving Lewis Crockett was born into a close-knit and hard-working black family in May of 1933, the third child of seven, six of whom made it to adulthood. He and his family lived and worked on a 65-acre vegetable farm owned by his grandmother. “It was a hard life, but a good one,” Pops says, “We were a close, happy family, despite the bad things.” In addition to working the farm, both of his parents also worked outside of the home; his mother, Sally, cleaned and did laundry for white families in the area twice a week, while his father, James, worked at a coal plant. His father had no problem holding down the job; bringing his earnings home, on the other hand, was a bit of a struggle, and he frequently chose to spend it on alcohol rather than support his family. This left his mother as the main provider for the household.
For a good portion of his childhood, Pops’ family didn’t have much use for doctors—In fact, when Pops was seven or eight, his older brother, Bill, frustrated at having to do chores, decided to throw Pops his axe after he had finished chopping wood with it. At age ten, his aim wasn’t very good, I guess, and he ended up cutting Pops’ toe clean off. His grandmother reacted by grabbing her sewing kit and reattaching the appendage. It healed perfectly. Things changed, however and not for the better, when Pops was around nine years old. His mother was diagnosed with uterine cancer, while his father and two of his younger siblings all became sick with tuberculosis. With both parents unable to work, and three family members in quarantine, the family was forced to go on welfare. After a year, they were cut off—his two eldest brothers, then teenagers, were deemed old enough to begin providing for the family. At age ten, Pops himself began working at a nearby farm, giving his $3/week salary directly to his mother. In 1944, yet another hardship struck the family; Pearl, the youngest daughter of the family, died from polio at age four. Pops cites his father’s job at the coal plant as the one thing that helped them to pull through. Though James was unable to work for four years after becoming sick, and never fully recovered from his illness, the coal company continued to issue him a paycheck during the entire time he was ill. This income, meager though it was, helped to cover their financial needs.
As the years progressed, things gradually began to get better, though money was still tight. Education was a luxury that Pops had never been able to afford, and school was always secondary to work. When Pops was a sophomore in high school, he dropped out to work full-time. “My father was sick, my mother was up and down, Herbert [youngest brother] wanted to go to college, and Sister [Adelle] was in high school,” Pops says, “I wanted and needed to help out.” Pops got a job with Greyhound, “cleaning and greasing” in the mechanic’s shop. He gave all of his paychecks to his mother, just like he did when he was ten. His mother’s health began to progressively get better, and when his step-grandfather died, his grandmother turned the farm over to Pop’s father, giving him the position of overseer. It made him happy to have something to do, to have a sense of purpose and a way to help his family. Life for the Crockett family was alright.
During the Korean War in 1953, Pops was drafted into the Army as a foot soldier. “I thought that the military was a life that every young man should be required to go through,” says Pops, “It was good training, but it was rugged training. You don’t realize how much punishment a body can take until you go through it.” All of his training, however, never ended up being put to the wartime test—“I never went any further than Kentucky,” says Pops. “I wasn’t interested in going overseas at first, but by the time I was almost done training, I had decided I wanted to go.” Three weeks before the end of his training, however, an armistice was signed—much to my grandmother’s relief. Though Pops may have felt somewhat cheated, his company as a whole breathed a collective sigh of relief at the news; the Army had been planning on sending his entire company to the front line. “Just think, Alex!” Gran Gran pointed out, “If they had been sent overseas, you might not be here right now!”